The Mouse's Tail free porn video

The Mouse's Tail By: Anonymous (as told to "The Narrator") Steven hunched his shoulders against the biting cold that seemed to cut through his long wool coat. Wayward snowflakes had dotted the coat in the twenty minutes since he'd been standing in the doorway outside the Pony Lounge, a place he looked about as classy as he was warm. Harry, another delegate at the conference he was attending, had gone in to meet someone and promised he'd be gone no longer than ten minutes. It was now pushing twenty-five. The two of them had been doing the rounds of the nightclubs and "gentlemen's clubs" of the city since eight that evening. The conference had ended with a dinner which they had both skipped in the pursuit of a little more fun than you could have talking shop over Cornish Game Hen. By ten-thirty, it had hit Steven that he wasn't going to pick up some hot young thing at a nightclub. The girls weren't just young - twenty-two to his thirty-five - they were hard eyed. His dancing was awkward and behind the times and his "buy you a drink" had cost him money, but earned him not even a phone number. A half-hour later he and Harry had been inside a strip club, eyeing naked thighs and over-developed breasts. It was ironic that his own wife, Amy, was as sexy looking as any of the girls on the stage bumping and grinding, but that she just didn't turn him on anymore. They had sex two or three times a month, but their whole relationship had lost its spark. Amy was a tall, trim blonde. People always said that they made an ideal couple. He was blonde too, six feet two inches, and over two hundred pounds. They had joked, early on, about how angelic any children of theirs would look, with the blonde hair and blue eyes they both had, but now Amy insisted that she didn't want children, or at least "wasn't ready yet." He didn't think she'd ever be ready. She was too wrapped up in herself. She wouldn't have had any time or attention left over for a child, even if they were to have one. Steven had never cheated on his wife, but part of the disappointment of the evening came from the fact that at its onset he had fully intended to do just that. He had hoped, for the first time in four years, to strip some other woman naked and fuck the living daylights out of her, the whole time imagining that Amy was watching and he was describing the whole thing to her. Instead, he was standing alone outside a sleazy strip club in a neighborhood that looked like it has seen better days, waiting for a guy he'd known for less than a week. Steven looked at his watch. It was 12:36. He was cold and tired and the flight he had to catch at 9:00 in the morning meant that he really had to get to bed soon. He looked up at the marquee: XXX Hot Nude Girls Private Lap Dances XXX. Steven sighed. At least he'd get to see some flesh while he was getting Harry. The inside of the club was warm and dark. It was a pretty small room with a bar on one side and group of tables scatter all around. The room was packed with men and loud music that sounded like a cross between jazz and seventies porno music, and blared so loudly he could hardly hear his own thoughts. On the stage, wearing a thong and a miniscule bikini top, stood a skinny redhead. She had great legs and, though the lighting was poor, what looked like a whole lot of creamy smooth skin, like fresh milk. The effect was spoiled by a pair of ridiculous fake tits that looked like bunched up water balloons. Steven could see the ripples the bag made under her skin from halfway across the room. As she continued to bump and grind, Steven turned his attention to finding Harry. Harry was a short man who looked a bit like he's hit sixteen, liked it, and decided to stay there for a while. He was going to be hard to find in a room this tightly packed and noisy. Steven pushed through the crowd toward the bar, noting that it was a little higher than the rest of the floor. He spotted Harry sitting at the bar near where it met the stage in a little "V". His eyes were glued to the redhead, who Steven saw, turning, was now topless and bent forward with her back to them. As he watched, she reached up from underneath, and pulled the crotch of her thong up from underneath to reveal a very nice pussy indeed. It was shaved completely smooth. It reminded him of when Amy used to do that for him, but she had long since stopped. The redhead's pose presented a pretty picture, and inverted "V", gorgeous legs and at the top. So near heaven, a succulent pussy that she was now holding open with two fingers. Steven felt a stirring in his pants. No wonder Harry couldn't tear his eyes away. "Harry," Steven said, startling the other man. Harry jumped, swallowed and then straightened his glasses. "Oh, ah, Steve, yeah," he said, glancing briefly at Steven's face and then fastening his eyes once again on the redhead's gyrating, glistening folds. "This is King Love." Steven looked behind him, and wondered how on Earth he had not noticed the huge black man sitting on the stool next to Harry. Steven was tall, but this guy was taller, at least 6'4" and 260 pounds of muscle. He was also one of the blackest people Steven had ever seen, so black the only part of him Steven could see clearly in the dim light were the whites of his eyes. He smiled slightly and Steven caught a quick flash of white. "King," Steven said, uncertainly, sticking out his hand. There was no way to know whether the name was real or some moniker, in his limited experience with black people. The black man took it. "Cha'm'd," the man said. He had a strange accent that Steven couldn't put his finger on, something like the people had down in New Orleans, but harsher. Something about King Love's tone made Steven feel mocked. Steven took the stool on the other side of Harry and addressed him. "We need to go, Harry," he said. The redhead was now collecting all of her tips. They watched her finish up and leave the stage just a few feet from where they sat. "Next up," the announcer was saying - "Just one more, Steve," Harry said. "What's the harm?" "Well -" The music came on just then, a haunting, sexy pulse of sound, not unlike a racing heartbeat, with a rhythm that started deep and low and stayed there. A soft piano came in, a few soft notes and then over it a trumpet that seemed to moan. Steven looked up to see a stunning black woman step onto the stage a mere five feet in front of him. She was small, perhaps five feet tall, but perfectly built. Her legs were long and slim, the line from hip to ankle almost perfectly straight. Her stomach was flat, her arms slim and her slim shoulders delicate. Her breasts were as obscenely huge as the redhead's, but they stuck out impressively from her torso. Where the redhead's breasts were the definition of a bad boob job, it was easy to tell that somebody had spent a lot of money on the black girl's breasts. They were perfect, natural-looking, and perhaps a full C cup, or even a D. Her ass was round and firm, offering perfect balance to her breasts. She had the body of a fuck-doll, but it wasn't the body that did it for Steven, it was the face. She had big brown eyes that dominated her face, perfectly shaped and fringed with long lashes. Her brow was delicate and her nose was flatish, small and cute. Her mouth was small and pouty, like a glossy invitation to be kissed a jaunty begging of the question, "How would it looked wrapped around my cock?" Long dreadlocks that went halfway down her back framed the whole enchanting package. She had the kind of face that should have been on magazine covers, the kind of face you didn't want to look away from. She was angelic and dirty all at the same time. Steven looked away long enough to notice that she was wearing a short cocktail dress that belled out around her hips, long white gloves and knee-high white platform boots. Her long dreadlocks were tied into two ponytails high on the sides of her head. She looked like a dark-skinned version of a Japanese hentai girl, complete with the flawless skin and the ability to pass for fourteen. Steven felt like a pervert looking at her silky white panties. He also couldn't wait to see her take them off. A singer chimed in with the music, the female voice husky, singing in French about sultry nights. The girl on stage moved her hips subtly from side to side, then ran to the pole, swinging from it by her arms. She glided into the splits, her pussy pressed flat against the floor and back arched so that her white satin covered breasts strained against the fabric. Steven knew it was too dark, but he swore he could see the outline of her wide aureole. She rose up off of the floor and did cheerleader standing splits with one leg held straight up in front of her and her mound, covered by what looked like satin cheerleader panties, jutting forward. The music picked up speed and she danced around the stage, gliding and twisting. She looked gorgeous, overflowing with sexuality, like a cross between some goddess of lust and a ballerina, or a little girl. She looked too good for the Pony Lounge, and Steven wondered why she didn't find a better place to work at. He stopped thinking though, when she turned her back to the audience, bent over and gracefully removed her cheerleader panties. Steven felt blood start to boil as he stared at her bare flesh, and caught his breath when she spun around to reveal that she had been wearing a white satin thong underneath. She flashed a teasing smile. She must have felt that doing that was enough teasing, though, because a minute later she stripped off the rest of her clothes and stood in the center of the stage wearing nothing but the white thong and a matching bikini top. Like the redhead before her, she wore a top whose size was hopelessly inadequate to cover her breasts. Her breasts looked even bigger bared, and Steven would have bet money that they were fake. It was the work of an artist. All visible flesh was smooth and blemishless. It wasn't until she danced up to him and bent so he could stick money in her G- string that Steven realized that he was standing right in front of the stage. He noticed too that his dick was as hard as it had ever been and that her skin, when he brushed it with the back of his hand, was as soft as black velvet. Returning to the center of the stage she lashed her head in a circle and began to slowly circle her hips like they were on a spring. Every time they jerked, Steven felt his dick jump. In a minute the bra came off and she was hanging upside down from the pole. She had big nipples that stuck out from her breasts, and, as he had surmised, wide aureole. They were incredibly black, even against her dark skin. Steven felt his mouth watering. She lifted her breasts as if offering them to the men that watched her and squeezed them, each breast much to large for her to cover much of with her small hands. Saucily, she tugged on the nipples till they seemed to get even bigger. Her hands slid down over her flat stomach and under the satin triangle. She seemed unmistakably to be playing with herself, but her facial expression was the same half-smile she had worn when she first got on stage. Unlike the redhead, the petite black girl didn't bare her pussy, but grabbed both sides of her thong and pulled the fabric tight into her crotch to reveal, through white satin, a charming camel toe. Then, shimmying, she slid onto her knees, arched her back and pushed her delectable breasts into the air before going still. When Steven made his way back to the bar, Harry and King Love were smirking. "Wanted to leave, huh?" Harry teased. Steven shrugged. "She something, eh?" said King Love, nodding toward the retreating round buttocks. "You bet," Steven said. "Maybe you like to meet her?" King Love asked, too casually. "Hell, yeah," Steven said before he could stop himself. He didn't even think he wanted to stop himself. "Do a little lap dance - come in your pants." King Love laughed uproariously. Harry's smirk went away. Steven reached for his coat. He was getting a little angry. The fact that he was horny and unlikely to get relief any time soon didn't help. "She name," King Love said, "is Shauni. She do a little t'ing on the side d'you know." "A little thing?" Steven asked. "She do magic." "Magic?" Steven was confused. "She make big cock disappear!" King Love laughed loudly. "Nasty girl." His white teeth gleamed in the colored lights from the stage. He threw his head back and Steven watched his thick chest bounce up and down. Steven looked King Love in the eye. He couldn't tell whether the other man was joking or not. He had an image again of Shauni's dark lips wrapped tightly around his cock. What Amy didn't know wouldn't hurt her, and damn it, it would feel good knowing what he'd done. The danger of the circumstances was completely intoxicating. He'd never tell her, but once he fucked another woman he'd be free. Free from the constraints of rules that bound him. "Man-" Steven started. "No worries, Ami," King Love said. "You wait; I get her. Harry, I get yours too, eh." ***** An hour later, Steven found himself alone in his hotel room with Shauni. She had changed into a pair of leather pants, mesh top, and platform boots. Over them she wore a long faux fur coat, that she took off and draped over the room's only chair, as Steven hopped nervously from foot to foot. She had not spoken in his presence. He and Harry had bargained with king Love for the girls and paid him. Calmly, Shauni and the redhead, whose name has slipped Steven, had gotten into their car and rode back to the hotel with them. The redhead had babbled on about her dancing career and a calendar she was doing, interspersing that with chessily transparent compliments to Harry. Shauni, on the other hand, had done nothing more than slide close to Steven and massage his thigh with one child-like hand. Now that she was up close he could see that she had a small diamond stud in her pierced nose. That only made her more exotic-looking. He's returned the favor by getting to know her very firm breasts in the darkness of the cab. Now, in the light of his room, he was starting to feel a little awkward. "Why don't you, ahm, get more comfortable," Steven said, indicating the bed. The girl arched a beautifully shaped eyebrow. Steven shrugged out of his coat and removed his tie. Her silence was making him nervous. "So, what is your name?" she asked sitting on the edge of the bed and bending to undo her lace up boots. Her voice was surprising husky for someone who looked so young and innocent. She had an accent that Steven couldn't immediately place, but it was similar to that of King Love. "Steven," he told her. He watched her delicate movements. She had a way about her that reminded him of a dancer, not the kind of dancer he saw a lot of, the kind that took their clothes off, but real dancers like he'd seen when his wife drug him to the ballet. "You're Shauni, right?" "Oui... I mean yes," she said. Her exotic accent was more delicate and sensual than the one that King Love had. "How old are you?" Steven asked, unbuttoning his shirt. She had one boot off, and a tiny foot tapped the carpet as she worked the boot off of the other foot. "Dix-" she started, and then cut herself off. "Nineteen. I still learning English, you know. When I get tired, I forget the English." "Where are you from?" Shirtless, Steven sat next to her on the bed and slid his hands up under her shirt. His flesh looked pale and fishy against her more vibrant black. He pulled the shirt over her head and threw it aside. "Aiti," she said, on a puff of exhaled air. Steven was surprised at how fast her nipples were hardening under his fingers. He had not slept with a prostitute in a long time, but he could not remember the others he'd been with being so responsive. Or so young. It took him a minute, while he fondled her perfect breasts, to realize she had said Haiti. Not that it mattered, when a second later she unbuckled his belt and slid her hands into his pants. Her grip was firm on his stiff cock. "Who did your breasts," asked Steven, as he mustered all of his powers of concentration under her expert hands. "King Love. Dey go true my belly button," Shauni confirmed what Steven had already guessed. There was no doubt in his mind that the money he'd paid to King Love would, in some part, go toward repaying the debt. The girl obviously knew what she was doing, as she pulled his cock out of his pants and began to stroke it. Steven bent over and took one of her stiff nipples into his mouth. She made some little sound in the back of her throat. Her hand did not break its rhythm. Steven worked the zipper of her pants down. When she stood up, his mouth fastened on her nipple as he helped her out of the tight pants. The whole process felt surreal, as if he was dreaming it. He ran his hands over her bare sides and hips. She was naked, now, but the taste of her was too good to relinquish, even for long enough to look at her. He licked at the stiff black peaks and she gave his cock a little squeeze that made it jump. He pulled her down onto his lap. Steven lifted his head and looked at her. Their faces were inches apart. He had not kissed her. He didn't think he wanted to kiss a prostitute, even as one as beautiful as Shauni. "What do you like," he asked her. "I like," she said softly, "a lot of tings." "We'll do a lot of things," he said, laughing. "What's your favorite?" "I like to suck cock, it make me feel like woman," she said, stroking him and stroking him, "I like to get fuck in the butt." Steven almost jumped out of his skin. Here was a girl who liked nothing more than to be treated like a girl. His dreams were about to come true. He had never fucked a girl in the ass. His wife had refused him point blank, and he had never paid for it because he didn't really like being with whores. This girl was different, though. He wanted to fuck her in the ass. He wanted to hang her upside-down off of the bed and force his cock between her rounded ass-cheeks and into her tight asshole. He wanted to look at that innocent looking little face as he defiled her body in the worst way. "Suck my cock," he demanded. She started to kneel in front of him, but Steven got an even better idea. He rearranged her on the bed so that she laid on her stomach and he kneeled above her, her little buttocks black and glossy, and her face right in front of his cock. She wrapped one little hand around his rigid cock and cupped his balls with the other. Her mouth opened over the head of his cock, and he felt her tongue flick against the tip. Her large soft lips encased the glans and she sucked lightly. Steven felt like his spine was melting inwards towards her gently sucking mouth. She slid forward on her belly, sensually taking more of the shaft between her lips. Her tongue was making delicate passes over the underside of his cock, drawing his essence to one spot, to his cock, in her mouth. Over her beautiful naked back he could see the open blinds and the still twinkling lights of the city. As she released his cock from her mouth with a wet slurp and pushed one big testicle into her small mouth, the lights seemed to blur into a swirling fog. Steven's eyes floated to the cheap hotel lamp that cast a gold light over her slim legs and a shadow where her high buttocks met her girlish thigh. She was so black! Steven pressed one palm against her shoulder. It was beyond silky - smooth as a baby. The tips of her dreadlocks were brushing back and forth against his thigh. She made a moaning sound as she put his cock back into her mouth. She was really enjoying this - it wasn't an act. Steven felt pleasure burning along his spine. She was very good, one small hand constantly pumping as she intensified the suction. If she didn't stop soon... "Shauni," he gasped, pulling her away by her hair, "let's fuck!" She released his cock a little reluctantly and reached for her coat. He was confused for a moment before she turned back, holding a condom. Once she'd gotten it on him she flipped onto her back, and looked at him expectantly. Steven slid his hand down her soft belly to her smooth-shaven snatch. Her clit was tiny, but her opening was slick with her juices. "You like this don't you?" Steven asked, absently, pushing two fingers into her. "Oui," she said, breathing harshly. Steven pushed her knees up to her shoulders, slid her small body into position and sank into her wet cunt. For a second he felt a weird doubling of sensation, as if he was feeling two kinds of pleasure, one warm and wet, the other hard and piercing. He pulled back and felt it again, a sensation of surrounding and being surrounded. When he pushed in again, she gasped and moaned, "Sa se bon! Oh, Mwen dye!" Steven felt her legs wrap around him and her small hands began to knead his shoulders. He could barely think. Her hips bucked and twisted under him, and he felt as if he was being lifted out of his body, taking nothing with him but the pleasure she was giving him. As he pumped into her, her cries grew shriller and shriller, his hear pounding loudly. He grabbed her buttocks and pressed himself as deeply into her as he could go before a splintering orgasm ripped the top of his head off and he passed out. ***** Four hours, two quick naps and one mind-bending butt-fuck later, Steven jarred awake at the sound of someone opening the hotel room door. The sound of the lock springing was accompanied by the low humming of a woman's voice. Steven opened his eyes. He looked towards the door expecting, in the confusion of first waking, to see Shauni. Instead, a matronly Mexican woman stood in the doorway holding a can of disinfectant spray, a roll of paper towels and a trash bag. "Dios mio!" she said when she saw Steven, almost dropping the objects she carried. "Sorry, senorita, you frighten me. I think you already check out. Please forgive." The door clunked closed behind her. 'Senorita?' wondered Steven, as he became fully awake. What is she talking about? Steven flipped onto his back in the darkness and frowned. His body felt very strange, sore in places he didn't think had ever been sore before. He felt something ticklish, yet rough, rubbing against his shoulders and back. He shook his head, but it as still there. He reached up and touched it. It felt a lot like Shauni's dreads. Had she been wearing a wig and left it behind as a memento? It didn't seem likely. Curious, Steven reached for the lamp and turned it on. He blinked when he saw the outline of the outstretched arm. It was very dark. It was slim and female and very dark. His hand was almost childlike. Steven leapt out of the bed and ran into the bathroom. The girl in the mirror was Shauni. He looked behind him. He wasn't there. He leaned closer. That was definitely him looking out of the dark feminine face, complete all of the way down to the pierced nose. He touched the small stud in his nose just to make sure he wasn't dreaming this. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes then reopened them to look into the mirror again. Shauni's face was still there. "Boo," Steven said. Shauni's thicker lips moved and the voice came out that was feminine and husky, and slightly accented. He even had her accent. Jesus Christ! He had to be dreaming. He brought his hand up to his unlined face again. It was strange to feel that soft hand touch that soft cheek. He'd had hair on his face since he was sixteen. His eyes were drawn lower to her - no his! - breasts. He put one small hand under the right breast and lifted it. It had a pleasant weight, but didn't have any real sensation. He couldn't resist moving the hand up a little, and then a little more, until he was touching the nipple, his own buttery, sensitive nipple. It was surreal. It felt incredible. As he squeezed it with his little hand, the nipple got hard, and a sweet piercing sensation knifed through his entire body. Was this how it felt to a woman when he played with her tits? What about being sucked on? He brought the other hand to the left tit. How could a woman ever stop touching herself if it felt this good? He felt himself getting aroused, but the most amazing of all he wasn't getting hard, he was getting wet. He could feel it. He looked at the face in the mirror, then, the dark eyes that were half- closed in pleasure, and he wondered how it could be his soul that was looking out of them. They looked like Shauni's, looked completely like... where was Shauni? Where was his body, to be more specific? He stopped touching himself and looked around the bathroom. The night before his toiletry bag had been by the sink. Now it was gone. He turned and walked into the other room. There was no sign of his suitcase, his attach? case, or his laptop. Everything was gone. That bitch! What a scam. Go back to some sucker's room, fuck him into a stupor and then take off with all of his stuff. The one problem was that she'd left her body behind and taken his. At least, Steven thought, looking at the floor near the bed, she'd left her clothes. He walked over and picked them up. The leather pants of the night before were revealed to be pleather. Steven tossed them on the bed. The shirt was a light color. In the light of the lamp it looked pink, with some kind of shiny thread running through it. The coat she had worn was draped over the chair. Steven hefted it. It was heavier on one side than the other. There was something inside. He patted at it until he found the pockets. It was a wallet. Steven frowned. Why had she left her wallet with him? Sitting on the edge of the bed he opened it. Inside was the usual array of items: a driver's license, some pictures, a few dollars in cash and a condom pocket. Her name was Shaunette Deparge. She was, as she had told him, 19. In the driver's license photo she looked younger, and her hair was short and close to her head (although in nascent dreadlocks). She wasn't smiling. The pictures were mostly of other women. Shauni's height was listed as 4'11," weight as 90 lbs. The pictures were mostly of other women. One showed a younger Shauni with another girl the same age in uniforms, both barefoot and grinning. They were standing on hard-packed dirt and a few chickens wandered in the background. That one must have been taken in Haiti. One picture stood out. It showed Shauni holding a baby. The child was a toddler, wearing a pink dress with ribbons in her hair. She was lighter skinned than Shauni, but they had the same dark eyes and heart-shaped faces. There was no doubt that Shauni was the girl's mother. Shauni was so petite that it seemed incredible that she'd had a baby. Her body didn't show any signs of child bearing. Steven looked down at the body he now wore. No stretch marks, nothing. It was flawless. The picture of the baby gave him two contradictory ideas. If Shauni had a child then it explained why she did what she did for a living, and why she might have robbed him. It also meant, however, that she had left a picture of her baby in her wallet in the room with him. Why would she do that? It didn't make any sense. What did Steven know was that he needed to find her as soon as possible. The address on the driver's license might not be current, but it was a place to start. He looked at the clock on the bedside table. It read 6:06 a.m. His flight was leaving in just under an hour. That didn't give him much time to find Shauni, get his body and property back, and catch the plane, but he had to try. What choice did he have? He certainly wasn't going to spend any more time then he had to as a black, teenage, single mother, stripper, prostitute. ***** It took Steven half an hour to find a cab that would pick him up the way he looked, and even then the driver didn't want to take him to the address on Shauni's driver's license. The driver, a black guy, kept calling him "Sister" and begged him to give up his life of sin, and join the church. "Cain't nothin' be worse than the life you livin'," the guy said. "The way you goin' you won' live too long." Steven kept his head down and tried to avoid the man's eyes. It wasn't his real life, but the man made him feel as if it were. The last thing he needed at this point was to embroil some decent human being in the whole thing. The cab left him off in front of a tenement building, in the heart of a block of tenement buildings. A group of teenaged boys, who didn't look much younger than he did now, were sitting on a stoop, apparently doing nothing. They all looked taller tham he was now. "Hey Shauni," one of them said in a heavy accent, "me mother is going to kill you. You was supposed to pick up Tasha already. She have to leave her with Mrs. Bowski so she could go to work." "Sorry," Steven said, glad that he seemed to know how to talk like Shauni did. "I been a work." "I know your kind of work," the boy said disdainfully, and stepped back so Steven could go past, "why don' you through some of that pussy my way?" The group of boys laughed, and slapped their hands in a "high-five" gesture. Steven ignored their jeers, stepped past, and continued onto through the tenement. He glimpsed the mailboxes down the hallway, figuring that was the best way to find where this Miss Bowski's apartment was. Then he got another idea. "Bwoy," he said, turning back, "you see a white man come here before? Big, tall man?" "My name is Ronald for the six millionth time, and no. What white man doing here unless is a skin and bones crackhead?" Steven shrugged. It only made him consciously aware of the anatomy on his chest that shifted with the shrug. It had been worth a try, but he would have to figure something else out. He found Shauni's mailbox that thankfully had both her name and apartment number on it. Inside was a thin letter from the Department of Social Services. He could guess what was in there. There was no Bowski on any of the mailboxes, but he found a Dubowski and only figure that the boy had shortened her name. She lived in apartment 45, four doors down from Shauni. If Shauni had come to puck up the child this woman would know, and if she hadn't, then keeping the child would be a good way for him to make sure that Shauni eventually come to find him. Steven climbed to the fourth floor, noting that Shauni's little body was in better shape than his own. Normally, he would have been exhausted by the time he got to the top, but he wasn't now. It wasn't hard to find apartment 45. He knocked on the door. "Who is?" he heard from inside. "Shauni," he shouted back, hating to have to use a name that wasn't his. "You take your time," the old woman said when she opened the door. She was around Shauni's height and hunched over, her skin mottled with age spots and hair white. She was dressed in a housecoat and her thin white hair was pinned up neatly. The apartment was small, but nicely furnished. Steven wondered why a white woman with any kind of property would stay in a run-down place like this, be he figured it wasn't time to ask. "You owe me five dollars. And five dollars from the last time. Pay me." Steven reached into Shuani's wallet and extracted a ten dollar bill. The old woman nodded and yelled, "Tasha. You mother here." It had taken Steven a moment to place the woman's accent, but it seemed Italian. An elderly Italian woman with a Slavic last name living in a run- down black neighborhood. Go figure. The child came running out. She was tiny, undersized for her age, which appeared to be about two and a half. Steven figured her size was courtesy of her mother's genes. "Mama!" she squealed, and ran into Steven's arms. "I watch TV and eat goldfish and Ms. Bowski tell me story about 'taly and I miss you. What you bring me home?" "Sorry, Baby," Steven said, picking up the girl, the words just naturally coming out of his mouth, "I don't bring nothing." The child's face fell, but she wound her arms around Steven's neck anyway. She had a sweet milky smell of a baby, and her tiny arms were so smooth that it was all Steven could do not to squeeze her. A warm and fuzzy feeling, that he did not recognize, appeared suddenly in the pit of his stomach. He examined her face, and noted that even though she was lighter- skinned than Shauni, her features were very African, her lips full and her nose flat. Nevertheless, he found her face very engaging. He smiled at her, and she kissed him on the cheek. The warm and fuzzy feeling spread from his stomach to the rest of his body. It confused Steven. How could a little black girl, that he didn't even know, make him feel this way? "Thank-you Ms. Dubowski," he told the old lady, making a conscious effort to pronounce her name correctly. He turned to leave. "Well, after all this time you get it right. What a thing!" ***** After he fixed Tasha a snack of sliced apple and milk, Steven opened the letter that he had taken out of Shauni's mailbox. Inside was a welfare check. Disappointed, he put in on the clean kitchen counter. At least Shauni kept a neat apartment. There wasn't much in it. It had only one bedroom with a narrow bed and a crib. It was quite obvious that she didn't "entertain" here, which was a relief considering the presence of the baby, but also a little surprising. Maybe it was just that not many "johns" would follow her into a building that looked a decrepit as this one. The living room contained a beat-up couch and table, but no TV. This frustrated Steven because his own experiences with baby watching was that you parked the child in front of a screen of some kind and waited until the parents returned. Here there was no screen, added to which there didn't seem to be any parents rather, unless he counted himself as such. He was wearing the body of Tasha's mother, but he wasn't really Shauni. He liked children, but had never spent that much time around them. So why did Tasha make him feel this way? Looking through the cupboard he discovered something else about Shauni. She apparently ate like a mouse. It would explain her petite form. Most of the food was prepackaged in toddler-sized portions, with the exception of something called ble which he didn't feel brave enough to try. There were bills and receipts in one of the drawers for utilities and clothes, but didn't provide much information (other than Shauni wore size 0). Most of the rest of the apartment contained toys, children's books and cleaning supplies. Even the clothes in the bedroom were mostly Tasha's. But, then again, the clothes that Shauni wore weren't exactly "bulky". Steven looked through the closet for something more comfortable to wear, but all he found were skintight pants and dresses, some very old baby tees, and one pair of old pink sweatpants. Steven always thought that women looked sexy wearing tight clothes, but as he tried to wrangle with Tasha, get her fed, and figure out what she wanted, he didn't feel sexy at all. Instead, he only felt restricted in movement, and longed to be wearing the kind of loose, baggy clothing that he always thought made women look like cows. He put on one of the baby tees (black), exposing Shauni's flat stomach and the pink sweatpants. The black baby tee had the words "Haitian Sensation" imprinted on the front. It was comfortable, at any rate and was happy to be wearing something old when Tasha spilled half of her lunch on him. Around one o'clock, after changing into a plain white baby tee, he thought of calling the airline to see if Shauni, looking like him, of course, got on the plane. He immediately realized that it was unlikely that there would be anyone he could call that would give him that information. He'd dismissed calling Amy at her office hours a few hours earlier. Who would believe that he had switched bodies with a black stripper with a little girl? He certainly would have dismissed anybody who's told him that, though they looked and sounded like a teenage girl from Haiti, they were really a thirty-six year old white man. He didn't sound like "himself", and it was unlikely that Amy, or anybody else, would stay on the phone long enough to confirm the details of things that only Steven would know. Anyway, if Shauni gained some of the same knowledge about him that he gained about her as a result of the switch, there was always that matter of his word against hers. Who were people more likely to believe: the prostitute or the respectable business man? It was almost four o'clock when the phone rang, and an angry male voice yelled, "Where are you?" It took Steven a moment to realize that the man had not spoken in English, but in Haitian Patois. The voice had actually said, "Kikote ou ye?" "A lakay," at home, Steven heard himself reply in Shauni's voice. "You were supposed to have a customer at 3:30," the man said, angrily. "Why didn't you come?" "I forgot," Steven said, looking over at Tasha. She was happily playing with some blocks he found in the entry closet. She was mostly knocking them together and making abortive tries to say the alphabet in a combination of English and French. "Is there something wrong with your head? You owe me my share of the money?" "What money?" Steven asked, confused. "The money I would have made if you'd been where I told you. Those tits on your chest weren't free you know!" Steven was beginning to recognize the voice. It belonged to King Love, Shauni's pimp. And, judging by what he said, he had a substantial financial hold upon her to pay for the physical assets that lured men, like Steven, to her. King Love had taken a thing of beauty, and improved upon nature many times over, to make her an object of lust by men. Obviously Shauni was supposed to work that afternoon, no doubt providing the same kind of service to some man that she had provided to him the night before. "All right," Steven said without thinking, not realizing that his words may have just committed him to Shauni's lifestyle. "You okay, Mouse?" the booming voice asked. The tome was not the least bit gentle. Steven wondered how Shauni came to earn the nickname "Mouse" or "Souris" which is the French word he actually used. It brought to mind the image of a small, gray creature hiding and shivering in the corner. "I'm fine," Steven said, although he felt like a poor little mouse right now. "Fine, heh?" the man said, "I'm coming over there." "Why?" Steven asked. He looked down at Shauni's sweatpants clad body. Somehow, the threat of Shauni's pimp visiting didn't sound like such great news. "I'm fine." "Look, Bitch," King Love said, "you cost me money. I want to make sure that you make it to all your engagements today. I'm going to escort you to the Pony Lounge and I'm going to escort you to your customers after. You hear me?" "Yes," Steven said, strangely afraid, and not knowing why, except for the implicit threat in King Love's voice. "If you cost me money again, Souris, you had better forget seeing that child grow." The threat against little Tasha made him feel like throwing up. Steven suddenly felt very protective of this little black baby that he barely knew. For some reason, which he could not explain, doing whatever he had to, to protect the child, became secondary to his own situation. "I be ready," Steven said softly, before hanging up the phone, fully aware that he'd just agreed to have sex with other men! After he hung up the phone, Steven found himself shaking from head to toe. He figured that it was this female body, and its own weakness that made his heart pound and his palms sweat, but he'd never had his life threatened before. Even when he had his real body he found King Love's impressive size intimidating. Now that he was less than five feet tall and barely 95 lbs., he was truly scared of what the name could do to him or Tasha. Steven couldn't really tell whether the threat made by the pimp was against him or the little girl that was now singing an almost unrecognizable version of, "Row, row, row your boat... ." The long day stretched on for Steven and his anxiety grew greater. He fixed an early dinner of scrambled eggs and toast for himself and Tasha, then read her a story in French. Amazingly, he understood the language, although he'd never spoken a word of it in his life. More amazingly, Tasha understood every word he said, as if he'd been speaking the language all of his life. Not once did Tasha ask what was wrong with her mama's voice! Steven had always been told that small children needed lots of sleep, but Tasha stayed at a high level of energy all day, draining him. He was exhausted from staying up all night and this body being fucked by his own body, but the child kept bouncing from one desire to another - feed me, play with me, change me, read me a story. Nevertheless, Steven gained a certain amount of satisfaction from taking care of her. She was sweet and patient, and had not thrown a fit all day. It created an uncontrollable urge within Steven to hug and kiss the little girl. Feeling her little body against him made him feel emotions that he now only identify as "maternal". He wished, more than ever, that he had been able to convince Amy to have children. Finally, around five, Tasha dozed off on the sofa, and Steven was able to move her into the crib without waking her. Exhausted, he sat on the small bed, feeling as if he would melt onto the cotton coverlet. As he laid back, he realized he needed to pee. He realized that he hadn't peed all day, no doubt due to the fact that he'd been so on edge that he hadn't eaten or drunk anything until he made dinner. What was even more surprising is that his mind hadn't registered that sensation, or the sensation of him animating Shauni's body as alien or unusual. It all felt incredibly natural. The bathroom, which he'd found earlier, was a tiny closet to one side of the bedroom. It had an old, chipped sink, toilet, and ancient bathtub, without a shower. Luckily, someone, probably Shauni, had attached one of those hose and shower-nozzle contraptions to the tap and it hung from the ceiling directly over the bath by a nail and some string. The shower curtain was held up by what looked like fishing line. Gingerly, Steven sat on the toilet and relaxed. Nothing happened. He tried to remember what felt like peeing as a man, and, after a moment of concentration, a slow but steady stream of piss flowed out of him. Steven almost laughed aloud. He couldn't even pee. He looked down at himself for the first time this morning. Firm, bra-less breasts pressed up against the thin fabric of the T-shirt. The shape of Shauni's nipples were plainly visible on the shirt. Yet Steven hadn't noticed anything amiss as they had jiggled around all day, and the nipples excited by rubbing against the fabric of the shirt. The pink sweatpants were pooled around his ankles, and the smooth skin of Shauni's legs gleamed back at him. At the joining of her thighs was the hairless pussy he had enjoyed so much the night before. Steven shook his head as he realized that he hadn't experienced one second of distraction from the absence of his familiar organ between his legs. In fact, it was getting hard to remember exactly what it did feel like. Grabbing some toilet paper, Steven wiped it clean of piss and stood up. He bent down to pull his pants up, Shauni's long dreadlocks flopping over his brow. Then he got a better idea. He'd take a shower. He'd felt sticky and nasty all day, but hadn't been able to leave Tasha all by herself. Now that she was sleeping.... ***** In the shower, Steven soaped the firm contours of the body he now wore with sweet-scented body wash. At least Shauni didn't skimp on the toiletries. He'd never used anything that spelled like flowers before, but he didn't suppose that he had a choice now that he had the body of a woman. His hands slipped over the slick curves of hip and thigh, arm and shoulder. When he soaped the large breasts, the nipples hardened almost instantly like they had that morning. It occurred to Steven that Shauni's body was extremely sensitive. What he didn't take time to consider is what stimuli to that body would compel him to do. Steven almost absently began to caress them, letting the hot melting sensation flow over him like water. Quickly, without even thinking, he developed a rhythm of using both hands to alternatively squeeze the whole breast and then the nipple. Shauni's thin legs were weakening under him, and with no wall to lean against, he sat in the tub. The water beat a steady rhythm against his shoulders. One hand seemed to naturally find his cunt, and rubbed against it. His hands were automatically following a pattern that was familiar to them. Steven took a good look at his pussy through the separation of the breasts. The little clit, barely a bump, and the red-pink inside gleamed from its frame of dark flesh. Steven pressed his index finger against the clit and gasped. It felt good. He made a circle over it, not sure what the body would like and found that even better sensations than the ones he'd felt earlier were spreading through his arms and legs, making his eyes drift closed. "Mama!" a frightened scream came from the other room, and Steven jerked. "It's okay," he called back. The baby was beginning to cry, obviously confused. Hurriedly, Steven withdrew his hands, jumped out of the tub, wrapped himself in a towel (the way that a woman would do without thinking), and ran out to see the child. Shauni's pussy throbbed. Unfulfilled. ***** Around eight-thirty someone knocked on the door. Immediately, Steven felt his heart speed up. He was already edgy and fidgety because he couldn't finish in the bathroom. Shauni's body was horny. He walked to the door and looked through the peephole, but there was no one there. The knock came again and he looked down. At slightly above his own eye level there was a rounded black woman who bore something of a resemblance to the Jamaican boy he had met on the steps that morning. "Yes?" Steven said through the door. If anything, the accent to his own voice was getting thicker, even with only one word. "Is me," the woman said, "Miss Ruth. I came to see if you still want me to look after Tasha tonight." Steven almost collapsed with relief. He had been worried that King Love would show up and he'd have to stash the child in a closet or something, but thank heavens someone, in this case Miss Ruth, was thinking. In fact, it worried him that he hadn't thought of the Jamaican boy's mother, or even Ms. Dubowski earlier. Steven wondered if he wasn't as smart as he used to be in Shauni's body? "Come in," Steven said, opening the door. The woman who stepped through the threshold was in her late thirties and looked bowed down by life. Her mouth smiled, but there was more tiredness than joy in her eyes. Her chubby legs were encased in an ugly pair of green leggings that she wore a hideous pink sweater over. Steven stepped back so she could come into the room. "You don't put on you close yet?" Miss Ruth asked, looking T-shirt and sweatpants clad body up and down. "You no usually go a work nine o'clock?" Steven shrugged, but didn't answer. The less he had to talk with Shauni's voice the better. The sound of her mangled English in his ears only served to remind him of his spiraling situation. He hadn't even thought about the need to get ready for the evening. He'd been too worried about King Love's impending arrival. Tasha came over to the door, saving him from having to explain. "You ready, darlin'?" Miss Ruth asked the little girl. "Yes, ma'am," Tasha said, smiling coyly. "Make sure you come for her by six-thirty a mornin', you hear?" Miss Ruth said, on her way out. "I have to go to work, and you know how Mrs. Da'bowski stay." Steven nodded absently, and watched the woman lead Tasha down the hallway. Tasha looked back only once. She was obviously used to spending the night away from her mother, even at a young age. Her tiny feet barely made a sound against the wood floorboards. The sight made Steven want to run to the little girl, and just take her into his arms. Closing the door, Steven went into the bedroom and looked through the clothes Shauni had stashed in her closet. They were all tiny. There was no way they would ever fit on his real body. There was everything from latex pants to skin-tight Lycra dresses. On a rack he spotted fishnet stockings, long gloves, and feather boas. There were even hot pants and transparent halters, though this obviously wasn't the season for it. Steven picked out a sequined micro mini-skirt and a fuzzy hot pink sweater (the kind that high school boys dream about) with only one button that fastened between the breasts. For his feet he chosed thigh high boots. Steven slipped on a thong (the only underwear that Shauni even owned) and the items he picked out. He felt very sexy, showing a lot of smooth, flawless skin, knowing what anyone would see if he bent over. That perfect, ripe bubble-butt and the suggestion of what lay between his legs. The idea that strange men would find him attractive made him feel strange. It only made his urge for release that much worse. The effect of the top was even more striking. The firm breasts strained against the thin fabric of the sweater, and the solitary button holding them in place. There was just the hint of the nipples through the thin, furry fabric. Anyone who saw him would want to fondle those breasts and suck on the nipples. The thought of this made him feel dirty, like a.... bad girl. Her nipples began to swell and harden rapidly. Steven realized that he'd thought of himself as a girl for the first time. Just when he would have touched himself, there sounded a loud knock on the door. From the power of the vibrations alone, he could tell who it was. He felt his knees weaken. When Steven opened the door, King Love was leaning casually against one side of it, his right arm raised and touching the top of the frame. Once again, Steven was struck by his sheer size, and now, by the smell of him, which was fresh and earthy, as if he'd just taken a shower. Despite himself, Steven found that he could not tear his eyes away from King Love's face. Something about the sight of King Love made him feel even more fidgety than before. "Put on your coat," King Love said in Patois. Almost on automatic, Steven opened the closet by the door, and pulled out the first thing that came to hand. It was the coat that Shauni had worn the night before. "Not that," King Love said, impatiently. "Something big, short." As Steven stepped closer to the closet to look at what he had to work with, a surprising thing happened. The phone rang. The only other time it had rung all day was when King Love called and threatened him. King love stalked into the room and picked up the receiver before Steven could even move. "Allo," King Love barked into the telephone, then pulled it away from his ear, and looked at it strangely before hanging up. When King Love's eyes flew to his, Steven turned back to the closet and quickly grabbed a short white faux-fur that was inside. "Who was that? King Love almost roared. "I don't know," Steven said, backing through the door, deciding he was safer in the hallway that alone with King Love in the apartment. His triumph didn't last long. "Get in here," the large man demanded. Steven had no choice but to comply. King Love walked up to him until their bodies touched and closed the door behind Steven's back. The smell of him was overpoweringly strong. Brutally, King Love grabbed Steven's chin and forced his eyes up. "Look at me. Who was that?" "I tell you," Steven said, finding in Creole the words sounded more helpless than in English, "I don't know." "I am the only," King Love said, "man you will see. I am the only pimp who will sell you. Those tits of yours are mine. If I say jump, you better jump. You hear?" "Yes," Steven hissed out, softly. "I find out you doing anything behind my back, I kill you." And then Steven found his thick lips mashed up against the black man's, his mouth open and a wet tongue pressed against his lips. Within seconds, the large man's hands had undone the tenuously fastened sweater and Steven's two tits, for that's what they were now, were being squeezed and stroked. Steven couldn't believe it, but the same sensations he had felt earlier when he touched himself, only infinitely stronger, were knifing through his body. Instead of gagging on the fat tongue, he found himself sucking on it. It was if he couldn't help himself. The roughness of King Love's caresses only made him feel dirtier, badder, and hotter. It made him press Shauni's body up against the hard muscles of King Love's body, instinctively seeking the release that had been denied him. Her. What she felt was all woman. "Whore," King Love breathed into her mouth, before he disentangled himself. He released Steven and opened the door. "Fix yourself and come." ***** In Shauni's body, Steven nervously stepped onto the stage at the Pony Lounge. He had recovered enough that he again though of himself as a he. He finally understood why Amy had always been reluctant to wear thongs. He felt like he had a wire lacerating his butt-crack. He was wearing the same costume that last night's redhead, Gina, wore. The brush of the cheap mesh fabric against his skin was both irritating and stimulating. The lighting was sufficient in the bar so that Steven could clearly see the faces of the men watching him. Of course, they didn't see him; they saw Shauni in all of her glory. The thought made him smile. He was an insanely desirable woman. He could see some of the men in the audience respond to the smile. He jumped as the music started. It was "Hit Me With Your Best Shot," by Pat Benatar, as song from his generation that he liked. And to think the night before he thought that Shauni had good taste in music. Steven tried to sway to the music as best he could, and strode out into the middle of the stage. He had never been the best dancer in the world, but the goodness of Shuani's muscle memory helped him out a lot. He found himself gripping the pole and grinding against it like the stripper whore he saw on stage last night. That he was now. His skill at it made his head spin and the audience cheer. Throwing the ropey dreadlocks on his head from side to side, he ripped his top open and threw it to the side of the stage. A yell went up form the audience. It made him feel good, that he could have this effect on people. Better than he'd felt since waking up in the hotel room this morning. Steven realized that he loved it, he loved their adoring gazes, the obvious lust in their eyes. It was quite intoxicating for a person who never had others look at them with nothing but pure desire. He'd never been attracted to men, and had assumed the response to King Love's fondling had been a fluke, a side-effect of the body's familiarity with those big black hands, but here he was, wanting nothing more than to make very man in the place drool with desire. In the process, it made his own desire start to rise again. Making the best use of the body he had, Steven stripped with enthusiasm, getting as bare as he'd seen Gina do the night before. Naked, he watched the hungry faces and ground against the empty air. What could be hotter than this, he thought, being the beautiful naked woman with all the sexual power and control in the world. Teasingly, he ran his hand over his pert nipples. They hardened even further, but he couldn't tell whether it was from the touch or the way the men's gazes heated when he did it. Encouraged, he continued to fondle himself, then reached to cup his pussy like he'd seen a few of the raunchier strippers do back home. He brought both of his hands to his crotch, peeling back the lips of the pussy to reveal the fat clit to everyone in the room. Money was being wadded up and thrown at him. Turning his back to the audience, Steven bent over so that his tits hung down from his torso. He knew Shauni's ass and legs presented the same kind of picture he's seen Gina display the night before. From the standing position he bents his knees then kneeled, his perfect ass facing the audience. He knew the display was crude, nasty, but also very sexy. It was the body of the girl that stunned him with her raw carnality last night, and now he was wearing that same body. He was acting just like her. He didn't know the rules of the club, didn't know how far they'd let him go, but he was willing to push the envelope. He felt reckless. He felt bad. He just didn't care anymore, except for this rush that the men's eyes made him feel inside. He reached around with one small hand and forced a finger into the mildly aroused pussy. He couldn't help brushing one of his fingers over the clit. His body jerked in pleasure. For a dot of flesh so absolutely tint, the clit was fantastically sensitive. Forcing another finger into the hole, he rubbed his finger over the clit again. The men closest to him cheered fanatically. Steven could even feel a hand stroking his ankle. Losing control of himself a little, he started to fuck two fingers in an out of the hole. He felt a wave of heat pass over his body, as his pussy started to dew. With each stroke, his fingers had an easier and easier job of furrowing the slick cunt. He heard someone gasp nearby, and then rough hands grabbed him, and dragged him off stage. Steven was too disoriented for a moment to process what had happened, but then realized that he must have gone too far and broken the rules. "Why the Hell can't you control yourself! If you don't watch it, you'll get fired," some bouncer was saying. This sounded like it wasn't the first time Shauni had gone too far. 'Maybe it's not my fault,' Steven thought, 'maybe it's just the body.' The man spoke to Steven with a tone of contempt, as if Steven was stupid, just a piece of ass. While he stood, just off-stage, the other bouncer, an overly muscled Italian, brought his clothes and tips, and threw them through the curtain. The next girl up, a curvy blonde, threw Steven a contemptuous look and sauntered past to wait for her entrance. Still naked, he gathered his things and headed back to the dressing room. At least he still had a job. Or Shauni's anyway. If only his pussy wasn't throbbing with no outlet in sight. Clothes in hand, Steven walked slowly down the hallway to the dressing room. He used his shoulders to open the door. Gina was the only one inside, smoking a cigarette in the nude. Steven couldn't help admiring her creamy smooth skin. She was as pale as Steven was dark. Her red hair fell in a tangle over her white shoulders and hid most of her large, fake tits from view. She turned when he entered and smiled. "You fucked up again, didn't you?" Gina said. Still another person treated him as if he was stupid. He wondered how smart Shauni really was, because he wasn't thinking as fast as he did in his real body. He suddenly felt like he was making dumb choices, following wherever the urges of the body led him, instead of reasoning his way out of things. Gina blew a smoke ring at her reflection in the mirror. "Yah," Steven admitted, dumping the clothes on one of the plastic chairs and sorting out the money. There were a surprising number of twenty dollar bills. He heard Gina come closer. The day before he had been half a foot taller than the redhead. Now she towered over him, her large breasts exactly at the level of his mouth when he turned towards her. He glanced up at her face to see her smirking. "I bet you're horny right now," she said, taking a slow drag. Her thing lips formed a perfect "O" around the tube. "I, ah..." Steven started, not sure what he should do. Also resolved to use his mind instead of the body evaporated into Gina's could of smoke. If he were a man, he would not have hesitated for a second to jump on Gina, but he was confused. He found her very attractive in a purely physical way, even though her personality set his teeth on edge, but he couldn't tell whether it was the Steven part of him that found her attractive or the residue of Shauni that drove his flesh. Gina rested a hand lightly on his shoulder. Steven felt his nipples harden. Gina's eyes fell to his breasts, and the tips got even firmer. "Let's help each other out," Gina said, sliding the slim hand down his velvety arm, sending pleasant warmth through his body. Before Steven could decide, the redhead bent her head to his and planted a hot kiss on his lips, forcing his lips apart. Her hot tongue stabbed into his mouth, and he could taste her, a combination of the tobacco and the chocolate she'd been eating when he arrived at work. It wasn't an unpleasant taste, and the taste was much less interesting than the way she alternately sucked and stroked with her tongue. Not to mention the way her soft hands were tugging rhythmically on his nipples. Steven let his hands move to her breasts. His hands felt pathetically dwarfed by the impressive mass. Though they felt nothing like real breasts, he didn't find them repulsive. His nipples responded immediately to the stroking oh his small fingers, growing hard. Pulling away from Gina's kiss, he moved his lips to her left breast and took the raspberry colored point into his mouth. Steven really was a slave to the urges of the body, and all coherent thoughts just left his mind. She tasted great: sweet and warm. It was a new experience for Steven, having a mouth so small that he couldn't cover the whole aureole, but he made up for it by licking the whole area with his cat-like tongue and biting with Shauni's perfect little teeth. Overhead, Gina was breathing quickly, and her hand that was still on one of his tits squeezed hard. It hurt a little, but Steven was finding out that this female body responded to rough stimulation as much as his male one had. He found his female lovers too gentle on many occasions, and as much as he was enjoying himself, he wished he had gotten to experience what Gina was like when she fucked men. Gina finally pushed him away, and laughed. "And all this time you wouldn't even give me the time of day," Gina said. "This sure ain't the first time you've sucked tit." Steven realized through the fog of sexual stimulation that he may have made a mistake. Gina's strong come-on had given him the impression that she and Shauni were lovers, but obviously that wasn't the case. Having started it, however, Steven didn't see how he could back out, especially not with his pussy dripping and the taste of Gina already in his mouth. He was about to make another stupid decision given his circumstances. That didn't really seem to matter right now. "Let's jus say I'm po'fessional," Steven said by way of excuse. Gina laughed, "That's just fine with me. Let's go into the ladies room before one of the girls catches us, and tells the manager." Only too happy to comply, Steven followed her into the next room. It was a tiny washroom with just enough room for the toilet and a sink. Gina locked it, and told him to sit on top of the sink. Steven obediently did as he was told. He pushed the long dreadlocks from his face, and over his shoulder. He could feel the longest ones tickling the small of his back when he leaned his head back. Once he was seated, Gina pushed his small, slender legs apart, and kneeled between them. "I love the smell of pussy," she said, pressing her face into his crotch. Steven's little hands fell to her white shoulders. Enthusiastically, she licked his pussy from bottom to top, flattening out her tongue to as much territory as she could. She hummed in pleasure as she lapped up a good serving of pussy cream. Returning to her meal, she used her tongue as a spoon to scoop in and out of his hole. Steven was surprised at how little he felt when she did this. Even though the very idea of what she was doing turned him on. The sensation of her tongue in his hole was only mildly pleasurable. That changed, however, the instant her tongue made contact with his clit. It felt like an electric shock was passing through his body. Steven's eye