Learning To Love From India

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I paced the room in my high heeled boots and found withpractice and walking in heels was not so terrible after all. I began tonotice the feelings of the clothing on my body. I felt the way theboots forced me to stand on the balls of my feet, I felt the heavinessof my breasts, the silkiness of the pantyhose on my legs and the tightconstriction of the leather skirt. I began to enjoy these feelings andsearched the apartment for clues that would get me my body back. Isearched the place for hours and could find nothing. Making my way backto the lab, I noticed there was an e-mail waiting for me at thecentralcomputer. It said:Simone, I hope you're enjoying your new body and all the potentialpleasures it can give you. Just remember, don't ever try to find me orI will have you killed. I suppose being a woman is not so bad,especially one as attractive as you. You will have no problemattracting a man, and getting him to do whatever you want as long asyou stay as pretty as you are today. I. "You will need to beg before I claim that part of you." I'm not going to beg," she reminded me as she worked my pants open.Surprisingly, I was only half-hard as she pulled my cock out. She moaned and purred as she teased me to full hardness.I slid my hand down and tried to push it into the back of her pants. After a couple of tugs, she helped by unbuttoning them, and I was able to slide my hand in. She clenched her butt cheeks as my hand slid by, but then she relaxed as my fingers reached through and found her wet slit. We both settled in to enjoy a slow tease as the miles slid by.Suddenly, my Bluetooth system announced that I had an incoming call from my wife."Answer," I instructed and then waited for the telltale beeps.Christine tried to sit up, but I was quick to slide my hand back up and push her back down onto my cock. She gasped, but trembled as she realized my naughty intentions."Hello dear," I said as the line connected."Hey love," my wife replied. "Um, how are, um, things?".
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“I can come back later.”“Tony. We were waiting for you. Here, sit with me.”She slid over on the bench to make room and I sat face-to-face with a middle-aged woman. She had coal black hair with a streak of white through it that reminded me of that late-night horror movie lady on television. She was wearing way too much makeup for any normal person and her eyebrows had been plucked or waxed and then drawn back on with a pencil. She was dressed simply, but her blouse was unbuttoned one button too far—make that two buttons—so her bra and cleavage were exposed. I suppose that if I thought less critically, the look might have been sexy on a woman half her age. But it looked kind of sad on her.“Sharon Reeves, I’d like to introduce you to Tony Ames. Tony, Sharon would like you to paint her portrait.”I recognized the name before the woman. She had sent me a picture. I was pretty sure now that the picture wasn’t recent. The woman snaked her hand across the table and I took it. At least she had.

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