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Message-ID: <30948asstr$992866202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "alancmcd" <alancmcd@lineone.net>
Subject: {ASSM} Different Strokes (mf, ff, mm, transform)
Date: Mon, 18 Jun 2001 08:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

A lighter story than "Hot Blood", with some absolutely unswallowable
(story context word) "science." Sorry. But I think it was Heinlein who
said that you should make your readership suspend disbelief for a
sci-lie, though only once a story. This sci-lie is a doozy.

This extremely weird world is now in the public domain, should anyone
want to use it (which I doubt). Characters and story are mine. Don't
repost or use, please, without my go ahead. Thanks for reading, if you
do. Adults only.

Comments very welcome at alancmcd@lineone.net. Stories archived on asstr
and storiesonline.net.

Oh, and let's be careful out there....


"A man's a man for a' that."

 ROBERT BURNS



DIFFERENT STROKES

by Alan C. McDonald



He looked at her. Him. Whatever. And shrugged. He wanted the experience
just as badly. There was no doubting it. But things were not,
unfortunately, as simple as Janice seemed determined to have him
believe. He tried to explain why.

"We don't know if it's all okay", he said. "It might not be as simple as
we think it is. I mean - yours might not do what mine used to do and
mine - well, it might not work like yours did".

She - yes, for simplicity's sake he would call her she - grinned back at
him. "Sometimes", she said, "you make do with what you've got".

Garvey could sympathise with that. But he had some problems. "There's
too much we don't know", he pointed out. "I mean, do I have a womb?
Ovaries? All that sort of stuff? Can I get pregnant? And what happens if
I do? We haven't been told to keep control for a day or two just because
the government wants to kill our fun, you know".

Janice cocked her head to one side, looking for all the world like a
quizzical parrot. "As recently as last Friday", she reminded, "you
fucked me over that desk. And I don't recall objecting. Nor do I recall
you worrying overmuch about whether you left me up the duff. You just
dumped. Like you always do. Always, Jack. Am I wrong?"

He flushed a little. "No", he admitted. "Although I don't remember you
being too anxious for me to pull out either. But anyway, that's not the
point. It isn't that I'm worried about getting pregnant, as a concept.
In fact, pregnancy would be an experience".

"An experience", Janice mused. "Well, yes. I suppose you could call it
that. If you were particularly insensitive".

Garvey cringed. He remembered that Janice was the mother of a two year
old little boy, and had suffered a particularly difficult delivery. Even
though the child hadn't been his, he'd still had to live through the
story at least fifty times since. "Bad choice of words", he allowed, but
he wasn't going to be diverted and he ploughed on, "Nevertheless, like I
said, pregnancy's a side issue here. I'm talking about injury. We don't
know if it's safe. And the scientists aren't going to take that long. We
should wait".

"If it hurts, we'll stop", Louise said, then chuckled, adding, "I was
told that once. It was a lie, of course, because it did hurt. I was a
virgin. And he didn't stop. The bastard."

"I'm a virgin", Garvey pointed out. "Well, I suppose I am".

Janice considered this, then allowed it. "Yes, I suppose you are. So
fine. I'll be gentle".

Garvey studied her and couldn't help but laugh. She was grinning, and he
loved it when she did that. Her teeth were even and white, the tip of
her pink tongue poking experimentally between them. He'd come in that
mouth, many times. Once whilst running a sales meeting, with Janice on
her knees, working on him urgently beneath the desk. Her hot, wet tongue
circling him down there, caressing him, fattening against the length of
him.

When he'd come, it had been with such power that she'd almost choked.
He'd felt his body strain upward, had been forced to close his eyes as
the orgasm swirled through his hips. Perhaps he'd even moaned. When he'd
been able to concentrate again, he'd found two of his local agents on
their feet, questioning his health.

Oh, yes. He loved that mouth. And watching it now, he knew that he
should under normal circumstances have been struggling with an erection.
That was what ordinarily happened when he paid such close attention to
her. Unfortunately, he realised with a great sadness, such pleasure
would never be his again.

In that morbid state, he let his gaze wander more freely over Janice's
body, recalling that it wasn't only her mouth that sent him into a
frenzy of excitement. Everything about her was gorgeous. Which was
exactly why he had fallen in love with her.

She was a tall girl, dark haired and willowy with a smooth, full figure,
a flat, fit stomach and long, slim legs. Her eyes were big and brown,
her eyebrows trim and arched beneath bobbed brown hair. An expressive,
oval face with a broad mouth, making her seem continually amused.

She'd been his secretary for two years and his lover for eighteen
months. The second had simply - well, happened. And the strength of his
feeling was such that he had expected he would one day leave his wife
for her. Now, though, the relationship, like all sexual relationships of
any nature throughout the entire world, was open to question.

"I really would rather wait", he stressed. Then, seeing the disappointed
flicker in her eyes, he added hastily, "Jan, if I'm going to explore
this, and I want to, then it'll be with you. But this is too big for
games, you know. Can't you see that?"

She shrugged. "I can see where you're coming from. But I don't feel I
can wait. Because of this thing, mainly". She nodded briefly downwards.
"Between my legs. Sometimes I think it controls my every move".

Garvey grinned. "I know exactly what you mean", he assured. And
suddenly, now that she'd drawn his attention to her new body part, he
found that he was looking at her in a different way.

Beneath her cream silk blouse, as usual, her lovely breasts were ready
for him to weigh and fondle and caress, the big brown nipples waiting to
be teased into hard, swollen buds. But now those breasts were all that
allowed her to proclaim without contest her femininity. Her succulent,
tight vagina, a luscious furrow which he had ploughed and erupted within
more times than he could remember, was no longer there to be claimed.
Instead, hanging between her firm thighs, flattened against her knickers
by the tight span of her black pleated skirt, was a penis. A big one,
maybe, or a small one. Perhaps, judging by what she'd said, a semi-erect
one. But a penis nonetheless.

It was the oddest of thoughts, both obscene and erotic. Garvey was
enticed by her. Even though he had never had a homosexual fantasy in his
life, he wanted to suck that erection, feel it spurt in his mouth. He
wanted to hear her feminine groans of pleasure as her hips jerked
against him in the most masculine way.

And there, he realised, lay the answer.

He could do that. He could risk that.

As he considered the thought, he felt a wave of pleasure in the muscles
of his stomach, a fluttering sensation that he had never previously
experienced. Added to this, there was a strange, sticky wetness between
his legs, so noticeable that he wondered whether that wetness would soak
through the material of his pants.

He touched the area gently. The pressure felt good, made him slightly
weak at the knees. "I think I'm on heat", he suggested.

Janice looked a little jealous, reminding him that she would doubtless
be suffering a sense of loss. Nonetheless, she was eager to help. "What
are you feeling?"

"Itchy", he disclosed. "And a little bit light headed."

"You are, as you say, on heat", she confirmed with a smile.

"What about you?", he wondered, letting his eyes stray once again to the
front of her skirt. There did seem to be a slight bulge there, but he
couldn't be sure. "How do you feel?"

"Uncomfortable", she said. "And very, very needy. I wish you'd
reconsider, Mr. Garvey. Otherwise, I might have to look after the
problem myself."

Garvey smirked, as he always did when she played the employee and
employer game. "I have a compromise", he told her, "which might remove
the need for that. Come here."

Garvey, as usual, was by his desk, and Louise was standing by the door,
shorthand notepad in hand. It was, the real world being as it had been,
a standard  male/female business setup, and Garvey wondered idly, as he
watched her secure the lock to prevent interruption, whether that too
would soon change.

She sashayed over towards him, still every inch a woman in her
movements. He offered her his chair. She sat obediently, letting her
legs drift open as she settled. It was a common posture for her when sex
was even a remote possibility, but he decided not to tell her that there
was no longer any need for it.

He stood before her. Through the office window, he could see the city of
Liverpool yawning at the start of a long day, a carpet woven of greys
and browns, with the dark Mersey River curling a distinct thread across
it.

The view from the eighth floor of the Thompson Building was always
spectacular. Every day, his clients would have their conveyances and
divorces delayed whilst he took time to study it. But today, it looked a
little different than usual. Today, the streets were all but deserted.
More deserted even than on a winter Sunday afternoon.

Everyone, of course, had known that this day was coming, and most had
decided to deal with the change in the privacy of their own homes. Some,
like Garvey, viewed that change as disturbing but interesting. Others
were looking forward to it. Many were horrified, and extreme reactions,
even suicides, were expected.

Garvey had agreed with his staff, including Louise, and also with his
wife Emily, that the day would as far as possible be treated like a
normal one. He sincerely believed that this was the best way, the safest
way, to handle things. Busy people had less time for thought and more
time for adjustment.

He didn't understand what was happening, of course. Only scientists and
he suspected precious few of them had any inkling.

But he'd read the newspapers like everyone else, and he had a grasp of
the basic idea.

The space opera scribes had been right, The universe was a place of infi
nite possibilities. Because of that, by some lamebrained scientific
principle which obviously happened to be true, it seemed that there were
infinite earths. There would be, for example, an earth where he had not
been persuaded by his father to go into law and had instead achieved his
ambition of becoming the front man of a heavy rock band whilst still
retaining his own teeth. There would be an earth where he'd married
Louise instead of Emily.

Recently, a joint space mission between the USA, the Russians and the
European Community had cocked up the testing of a new propulsion method
referred to in the best Star Trek tradition as a hyperlight drive. This
had, in the phrase beloved by Tony Blair. who almost certainly hadn't a
clue either, "ruptured the fabric of space." The "rupture" had opened
the way to a parallel universe and a parallel earth, an earth where,
apparently, exactly the same kind of testing had been going on.

None of this would necessarily have been a problem if the rupture had
stayed where it was. Or rather, if it hadn't stayed where it was.
Unfortunately, whilst the earth continued its inexorable journey around
the sun, the rupture defied even Star Trek's laws of physics and waited
exactly where it had been opened. It was solemnly announced that the
planet would enter the rupture, or as Blair christened the event would
"cross the probability horizon", within days.

To their credit, governments mobilised and co-operated enough to get a
manned space flight organised, and three lucky astronauts got the chance
to see what the rest of us were in for. Communication across the horizon
was known to be possible, because limited radio transmissions had been
picked up, and there was even a hope that the alternate earth might be
sufficiently technologically advanced to help avert the disaster.

Jack Steele, Anthony Rozhenko and Victoria Albert bravely went where no
man or woman had ever gone before.

Within minutes Jackie Steele, Antonia Rozhenko and Albert Victoria
reported back.

It seemed that the newly discovered world was an exact duplicate of the
familiar one with, as far as could be established at such short notice,
inhabitants all present and correct, living the same lives, married to
the same people, holding down the same jobs. Macdonalds and Coca Cola
operated profitably. Irish fought English. Tiger Woods wasn't poor. More
generally, women were still regarded as women, and men as men. Women
still had breasts, and men still, more often than not, had hairy chests.

But below the waist, it was a somewhat different matter. Men had the
plumbing, and ladies the rod. Early indications were that men carried
the babies, although contact had been lost with the astronauts before
any real detail could be confirmed.

One thing which had been clear was that the parallel earth had
comparable rather than superior technological status. Not only that, but
it was heading for its own version of the probability trap. There was
going to be, in one of Tony Blair's few understandable pronouncements,
"a swap."

There was still confusion as to why the physical change had occurred,
why the astronauts had not crossed the border but remained just as they
were as far as bodily construction went. The party line was "adaption to
conform", and was supported by some paper by Stephen Hawking. That part
of the overall theory, in truth, had always seemed a bit thin to Garvey,
who preferred a more metaphysical explanation, but he was prepared in
company to go with the flow.

As the terrible day approached, the government started to give pep
talks. It would be a bearable change. Really. Piece of cake. Just a
little adjustment. Even for the old. Might be a good thing. As long as
everyone stayed calm, helped out. Crap, Garvey knew, but he also knew
that there was nothing of value to be said.

Ten minutes ago, at eleven AM on this wet Thursday morning, the planet
had entered the crossover zone.

Garvey had been dictating. Louise had been scribbling away. Both of them
had been nervous, glancing occasionally at their watches. Both had been
trying to pretend otherwise.

The trandslation had, as promised, been painless, which was a relief
because, until it happened, Garvey hadn't been able to believe that it
would be. In truth, there was no sensation of note. Only the odd
looseness in his pants implied that anything had happened at all.

Louise had gaped at him, had almost immediately, though
self-consciously, squeezed her groin. "That", she said, breaking the
ice, "is not very comfortable."

"You didn't bring Y-fronts", he teased.

She shook her head mournfully. "Should have thought of that", she
admitted.

"It's easy after the event", he told her, with mock seriousness.

She'd suggested a coffee then. To celebrate. And he'd agreed, expecting
that the loo, rather than the coffee machine, was her intended
destination. It was likely that she'd want to study her new toy.

He'd misread her. It soon became obvious that it was he who she wanted
to study it. Briefly. Then she wanted to use it.

At the door, she'd stopped, turned. She'd reddened slightly, and when
she spoke she seemed to be having difficulty with her breathing.

"Let me, Jack", she'd proposed tightly. "Oh, go on. Now. Please. Don't
say no."

It was the start of the conversation which had led him to his big idea.
The start of the conversation which had placed her on his chair, legs
slightly apart, while he stood surveying the empty city, his buttocks
resting on the lip of his mahogany desk.

Now, he returned his gaze to her.

She still, he was delighted to note, looked achingly feminine. Her
calves and knees were as shapely as ever, and for once they were not
protected by tights. At least she'd thought ahead in that regard. Her
eyes were heavy with passion and her hair was slightly in disarray. Her
lips were parted as she waited for instruction.

He was happy to be still in charge. But, as with office status, he
wondered how long that would last. A cock was a powerful instrument. It
didn't like to take orders.

"Get undressed", he hissed.

Her breathing quickened, the order seeming to shock her. "The lady
bit?", she challenged tautly. "Or the man bit?"

"Downwards", he suggested.

She started to work on the buttons of her blouse. Nimbly. He watched her
hands, and she watched his eyes. The garment opened, revealing a flimsy
and lacy white bra, barely enough to keep the weight of her breasts from
popping free. She pulled the blouse down her smooth, creamy arms, then
reached behind her back, popped the catch, making the breasts jerk
forward. With a sigh of pleasure, she worked the bra off, tossed it at
the side of the chair.

He had never seen her nipples quite so engorged. High and proud on her
flushed breasts, they looked like cherries on strawberry ice cream. The
slickness between his legs became uncomfortable, and he felt weak at the
knees. He wanted her. Desperately. In just the same way, as far as the
lust was concerned, as he often had in the past. But also in new ways.
The emotional content of the need, particularly, seemed stronger than
ever before. And the warmth in his hips and lower back was wonderfully
new. He found himself lifting his left foot slightly, rubbing his knees
together to trap the increasing tension.

No doubt because she knew what he was going through, Louise apparently
resolved to tease him. "I'm having second thoughts", she said, her
marvellous leer taking a familiar lopsided appearance.

He reached forward, let his hands settle beneath the bulk of her
breasts. With the pads of his thumbs, he gently circled her nipples,
feeling the rock solid flesh give, but only slightly, under the pressure
he was exerting. Her back lifted, pushing her forward in the chair, and
her eyes fluttered momentarily closed. She began to breathe more deeply,
more slowly. Occasionally, she sighed.

He allowed her to relax into the pleasure, watched her head loll, her
tongue start to trace a path between her teeth. Then he teased her back.
"So am I", he told her.

"So are you what?", she asked dreamily.

"Having second thoughts", he clarified playfully. "Don't take anything
else off until I've decided."

"Bastard", she judged, and immediately started to lever off her shoes,
using her toes for purchase.

He watched her, thinking only of the thing that she would soon reveal.
His hand was at his groin now, caressing his pubic mound through the
material of his trousers. To find no lump there was odd, but the action
nonetheless created pleasure, a deep hot pressure in his stomach which
made him feel like his blood was about to boil.

He thought of hauling his trousers off. If only to discover his own
modification. To caress it himself. But he resisted. He knew where it
would lead. Within minutes, the erection which Louise was about to
reveal would be inside him. He was that weak willed.

Louise was wriggling free of her skirt. As usual his eyes followed it
down her strong thighs and sleek calves, over her dainty feet. Then,
retracing the way back, he saw for the first time her cock outlined
against her black knickers. And despite the fact that he had known it
would be there, he swallowed in surprise.

"Doesn't look like you were short changed", he said tightly.

She was fully erect, the member bulging fat and long at an angle towards
her left hip. The material of her thin nylon panties was stretched to
breaking point as the brand new addition twitched in her excitement
against the unwelcome restraint. The head seemed bulbous. The crotch of
the garment bulged too, even though her testicles were tightly drawn up.

He envied what he knew she would be feeling. The tingling in her glans.
The readiness. The randiness. The want.

She looked up at him. Her eyes were wide and bright, dancing with lust.
Her expression had a predatory nature which he had never seen before. It
was an expression which made his insides turn to liquid.

The temptation to undress himself was growing all the time.

"I feel..." Louise struggled to describe it. "Wild. Out of control."

He nodded sagely. "Get 'em off", he suggested. "Touch it. Play with it.
Familiarise yourself."

For a moment, she hesitated. He didn't know why. She'd played with
herself in front of him before, when things were in other places. And he
really wanted her to do this. He wanted to see the joy on her face when
her cool fingers touched her prick. He knew how good they felt on the
times they'd touched his.

He noted, as she finally started to wriggle her knickers free, that his
nipples were throbbing. It was the oddest thing.

The panties caught, and she had to pull the elastic forward over her
glans before slithering the garment off. Then, and at last, she was
completely naked.

"You look... incredible", he complimented her.

Her cock was even bigger than he had thought when he had seen it covered
and entrapped. Bigger than his had ever been in its fullest glory. Seven
inches in length at a conservative estimate and half a wrist thick, it
reached to her ribcage and seemed out of proportion with her waist. The
glans bulged above her bunched foreskin, a long, bright pink bulb
splitting wetly at the crown. A thick blue vein drove up the stalk, with
a trail of capillaries tensing from it. It wavered and vibrated,
sniffing the air.Louise's thatch of pubic hair had become a forest, and
beneath it her testicles were as big as plums.

His cunt twitched in excitement, shocking him with the thrill which
squirmed through his spine.

Nervously, Louise reached down towards her unfamiliar appendage, and he
nodded encouragement. Her fist closed, but her fingers failed to meet
the heel of her hand. The cock was just too big. Nonetheless, as soon as
skin touched skin, she moaned with delight, and her buttocks lifted, her
knees coming together. He thought that she might close her eyes again,
but she didn't. She kept them firmly fixed on him, seeking instruction,
doe like. He made a wanking motion, and she followed his lead, jerking
the tight skin up, down, up and down. She breathed in sharply, and her
thighs started to tremble.

"No", he said quickly. "Stop."

"I don't know if I can", she pleaded, slowing the motion only a little.
Already her cock was oozing precome.

"Wouldn't you rather use my mouth?", he offered slyly.

She let her hand drift downwards to caress her balls. "Would you let
me?", she wondered, with equal stealth. Ten minutes with a penis and she
was already manipulating.

He took a mock serious air. "You don't have a choice", he assured her.
And he knelt before her.

For a moment, he made her wait. Made himself wait. Because he was
conscious that he was about to suck a cock. Something he had never
dreamed he would do. She males had always turned him off, and in a way,
she male was what she was.

But in other ways, she was most of what she had always been. In
particular, she was still a woman, and in that context, the cock was
irrelevant. What he was about to do, he would do to a woman. And that
made all the difference. That made it exciting.

Before he bent to her, he loosened his belt, opened the waistband of his
pants, pulled the zip slightly down and pushed his fingers into the
space to caress his pubic mound. In counterpoint to Louise's newly
sprung region, his growth seemed sparser than before.

The fingers found sticky wetness, then warmth, then a tough, swollen
button which he knew to be his clitoris. Sliding a finger experimentally
across it, he felt pleasure explode in his pelvis, forcing his legs to
close around his wrist. Moving one finger backwards, his brain hissing
encouragement, he found the valley which led to his vagina.
Unfortunately, he couldn't reach much further than that. He moved the
investigation back, started to stroke the clitoris lengthways. Again the
electric sensation made him rigid, but after a few passes it moderated,
resolving into a luscious, building tension in his lower body.

He looked up at Louise again. Were those tears of frustration forming in
the corners of her eyes? Yes, they probably were. Deciding to finally
play fair, he placed the hand that was unoccupied on her knee and,
bending from the waist, he ran his tongue slowly from the base of her
erection up to the lip of the glans.

She stiffened as though she'd been shot. "Oh, Jack", she begged. "Oh,
Jack, please."

Playing fair meant no teasing. Whilst he knew many of the things which
would keep her on the edge, having had them done to him, he could play
those games later. She wanted to come quickly. She wanted to know what
it was like. And he could certainly oblige her, because he knew a few
tricks in that area too.

He realised that he too might come quickly, by his own efforts alone,
because the build up of sensation in his shoulders, back and buttocks as
he continued to masturbate was, whilst unfamiliar, identifiable as a
prelude to resolution. He disciplined himself to slow his caresses,
deciding that he needed all of his concentration to do the thing which
he intended to for Louise.

Carefully, avoiding contacting her skin with his teeth, he took her
glans into his mouth and started to suck, using his tongue to sweep
slowly around the rim. Her body went rigid again, just as he'd expected
it to.

"Ohhh, Jack", she moaned, "how did you ever stand this without
screaming?"

Of course, he didn't reply. His mouth was full of stiff, thick cock. He
could taste the maleness of her, but what he was doing still seemed
fine, because the sinuous movements of her body as he pleased it
screamed of femininity. The moans were soft, not gruff.

He decided to give her the best part of the tour, started to piston his
lips up and down her throbbing erection. Best intentions discarded, his
fingers went back to worked within his cunt, their activity occasionally
sending messages thrilling up his spine. He tried to insert his
forefinger into himself, digging deeper, but found an odd obstruction.
Elastic, and tense.

A hymen, he realised with shock. Of course. A hymen.

Now she was straining, near to the edge. Her fingers curled into his
hair.

He dropped his free hand to her cute, hairy testicles, massaging them
gently, rubbing the balls one against the other. He registered again how
big they were, bigger, he was sure, than his own had been.

"Don't stop", she pleaded. "Oh, please don't stop. I think I'm going to
come."

And yes, she was. Definitely. He recognised the signs. Buttocks
grinding, forcing her prick against the roof of his mouth. Knees
vibrating.

He moved the hand from her balls, used it to deliver long and sensuous
strokes along the underside of her sleek, hairless thighs.

The gentleness did the trick. She gave a howl of delight and lifted, her
body vibrating, her cock still and throbbing against his tongue. He
waited for the pulse, wanting it, wanting to taste the gush of her
semen, knowing that it would be a part of her, that it would be the
juice of a girl, of his girl.

"Don't stop, Jack", she begged again. "Don't stop don't stop don't stop
don't stop."

The prick in his mouth jerked, firmly and vitally, with force, a gun
going off. He felt the thrum as the first slop of semen barreled out of
her.

The discharge thwacked against the back of his throat with thick
potency. Suddenly his mouth was full of a swill of gelatinous liquid
which moiled and sluiced around his tongue. He tried to swallow but it
was impossible. The stuff coated and adhered, almost making him gag.
Louise was still squirming, and she released a second rush, as
voluminous as the first. Her spunk filled his cheeks, dribbled down his
chin. The poor girl was in such abandon that her body danced beneath
him, rolling and pushing. A third ejaculation erupted, and then a
fourth. The juice of life bubbled between his teeth.

He had never been so excited. His own climax ambushed him, splintering
his connection to reality with such savagery that he almost passed out.

It seemed to go on forever. Less direct and sharp, perhaps, than he was
used to, but more satisfying, all embracing, awe inspiring. As he rode
it, Louise stroked his hair, watching him pleasure himself with an
understanding but, he thought, vaguely annoying indulgence.

When it was over, when his stomach and groin had ceased to throb, he sat
back on his heels.

Louise's cock lay across her slim stomach, slackening now, semen
dribbling occasionally into her navel. He beamed up at her.

"Well?", he asked.

"Well", she said, "if you've lived with this all these years, I can't
stress highly enough what a lucky bastard you've been. And I know why
you were always so keen on blow jobs."

"You had the multiple orgasms", he reminded her. "I get those now."

She considered. "With me", he said. "Not with Emily."

"You know how things are with Emily", he replied easily. "Let's not
revisit."

"That was then", she judged. "And this is now."

"No", he told her. "No way. That's one thing that will stay the same.
You will be the first, Louise. And the only."

"It won't stay the same, Jack", she disagreed. "Like everything else,
it's going to change. I think today's the day to tell her."

"That's a little cruel", he countered. "Today of all days."

"Yes, it is, isn't it?", she agreed. Then she gave her softening cock a
little squeeze and added, "Roles are reversed, love. And cruelty comes
with the equipment."

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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