A Different Kind Of Therapist, Chapter 3 free porn video

I woke up smiling. I battled through the hangover that was pressing against my brain, but nothing, nothing at all, could make my mood darken. I had a new life, one that was a blank slate, minus the life that she had constructed before hand. I had tried to start over many times in my life. The unknown and unforeseen circumstances had conspired to press against my dreams in numerous ways, always leaving me with a little less drive, a little less energy for life. Now, however, that was different. I had a fresh start, and while I might have cringed at the thought of it being within a woman's body, I couldn't believe the power I felt in this body, the sense of control over my surroundings. I loved being the center of someone's attention. On top of that, this body was amazing. Here I am not talking about its outward appearances. The feelings that this body generated when touched, the emotions that surged through me when he touched me. Nothing in my male life could have prepared me for it. I found myself thinking about James when I went to the bathroom, when I went to the kitchen to get something to eat, when I showered. None of it was sexual, and it surely wasn't a "love" or relationship feeling. Instead it was simply the longing one has for a connection that was made in the recent past. I got dressed in a skirt and top, tried to some heels on and learned quickly that that was going to have to take some practice. I settled for some cute blue ballet style shoes, and did my best to dry my hair and apply my make up. It was much more involved than it was when I was a man, but it seemed worth it. I felt like I was gift-wrapping myself, preparing myself to be met by the world. I decided to spend some time looking around and figuring out just what I was suppose to me doing in my life. I searched through drawers and cabinets, emptied my closet and emptied the contents of my purse on the table. Eventually I put together through my planner and the various envelopes filled with mail that I was to start school in two weeks, that my biological father had left me a hefty amount of money when he passed away that I was receiving in the form of checks on a monthly basis (I was later to learn that the balance would be paid out to me upon the completion of my degree), that I had been withdrawing large amounts of cash over the past five months, and that I was now a senior English Education major. I also learned that I had a small fortune in my checking account. I marveled at how easy I had it, how set I was if I played my cards right. I didn't have to depend on anyone, didn't have to struggled with student loans and debt. By the time I was finished with my search and assessment of the life I had been given, I sat down at my kitchen table with a couple of pieces of paper and a pen. I made a list of the ways in which I was set in my life, the town house that was paid for, the checking account with a large balance, and the large amount of money that was coming to me. I noted how I was an attractive woman, clearly intelligent, I had friends (I thought at the moment), and that I was on my way to a stable career. I also made a list of the drawbacks in my current life. I was an attractive female (thus making me a target), I had no family I could make out, and there was an unknown factor. I knew the reasons in her chart that she had come and seen me: the foster homes, the partying, the academic probation. I could turn around the academics. The problem would be if any psychological damage transferred, or should I say remained, when I occupied her body. Even if that was the case, I felt with my background I could figure out how to deal with it. If the damage had been sexual, it clearly didn't manifest last night. I also made a list of things I wanted to accomplish, a to do list for the mid-term and long-term. I made a note to call the stock broker that I had had in my old life, dedicating myself to placing one third of the money I received every month in the market for future growth. I started thinking about other investments, but my mind kept wondering. I started thinking about my physical future goals. I wanted to get fucked again. I wanted to know what it was like to suck a dick and have it explode in my mouth, to put his cock between my tits and I wanted to squeeze it and use my chest to make him cum on my face, to kneel before a man and jack him off, looking his cock head on and seeing his cum shoot all over me, to bend over and have him force his cock in my ass, to see a truly huge cock and deal with it, to fuck a couple, to have multiple men fuck me, to be air tight (suck one with a man in my pussy and ass), to lay down on a table and have men jack off on me, to.... I stopped. I realized what was happening. I was her. I was addicted to the attention. Sex was a way I was getting not only gratification, but acceptance. It was how I was controlling the world. I was scared. I knew the power sex had. From the feelings I had last night, I knew I loved both the feeling and attention. I picked up my phone to call an old associate. I figured that I should go ahead and preempt the problems that might arise. The rest of my goals could wait, but I had to make sure that I didn't endanger my life any further and get help. When I picked up my phone I saw that I had five missed calls. I hit voicemail and listened to the messages. The first two were from Allison, asking me how the night went. The third was from James checking in, and the forth and fifth calls were from guys I did not know that asked what I was doing tonight. I was a whore. That was clear. I just knew I had probably fucked half the college, and that scared me. They were coming out of the woodwork to come and get an easy thing, and what's worse is that even though I knew it, there was an excitement in the fact that three men had already called before noon presenting themselves on the buffet line for me to choose from for tonight. I made two calls. First, I called the health center at school asking if I could get in. The second was to a therapist that I knew that dealt specifically with sex addiction. The health center was the first stop, something I was mostly concerned about as far as the possible results, drastically overlooking the experience that was the examination. I was made to strip down, and sat on a cold bench until the doctor came in. As soon as he entered, he left, returning with a female nurse whose only job it seemed was to observe. He asked me what the problem was, and through some embarassement and hesitation, I told him that I wanted to have a general check up to make sure everything was alright with me as well as check for STDs. He nodded, surprisingly with little judgment and started the exam. He asked several questions, none of which I knew. Some were concerning my sexual activity, my period, any problems, etc. I lied on all of them. He then put his stethascope on rubbed it against his palm a few times and placed it on my back several places. I straightened up, freezing. I never remembered being this cold as a man. He made some notes and asked if I did regular breast exams. I said no. He told me it was best to do them in the shower, asked if I knew how, and when I said no, he asked me to stand and face the opposite wall. He stood directly behind me and explained that he would show me how to perform a self exam. He took my hand in his, told me to use two fingers, place them underneath my nipple and work around in circles until the entire breast is checked. "You have very large breasts so it might take you some time, but it's worth it. If you do it on a regular basis, you will notice any abnormalities." The experience was strange to say the least. After a few seconds, he released my hand and allowed me to continue. I worked around, and the nurse comments that I was doing it right, until I felt something that was strange. "I think I found something." The nurse came over. "I don't normally perform exams but I can see if it's something to be concerned with." "Wait, I want the doctor to tell me if this is alright." "Well, we normally allow the nurses to touch female patients. It just makes them feel more comfortable." "Listen doctor. I'm sorry, but I really don't know what is what and I want to make sure everything is ok." "So you consent to me touching your breast." "Yes of course. It's just a breast. Please tell me if this is normal." He got right behind me and reached around, I took his hand this time and with his two fingers tried to find the small knot I had felt. It took a minute, but when I did, I raised my left arm like he showed and asked him to feel that. "Is it normal? Is that Ok?" He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. I felt him. From the force of his hand, I was pushed back against him, and his cock, now hard, was pushing into my back. "I think it is ok." He stepped back slightly and quickly sat down on his stool to cover his erection. The most important thing is to notice if it hurts or if it moves. I turned to face him. I was being evil, showing him my breasts, showing him that I had felt his cock on my back, and despite everything that I knew about this situation, I was turned on. I made sure to raise my arms and act like I was discussing possible indications of breasts cancer, but we were both in a daze, nodding at each other until there was no possibility of taking it any further. I pulled the cover back on, and the doctor, regaining his composure asked the nurse to take a couple of vials of blood for the STD tests and he would return when everything was ready. I sat down and she withdrew my blood, telling me to get dressed when she was done and that the doctor would be back in shortly. I sat back down on the chair, still in my gown, and waited for the doctor. He entered through a different door, one that seemed to open to an office rather than the hallway, looking at my chart. He was reading something or other, walking slowly towards me, but when our eyes met, he stopped cold. "Did the nurse tell you it was alright to go ahead and get dressed?" Something was pushing me I couldn't control. Something inside me was driving while I was a passenger. I was there, making decisions, but not the ones that I would have a few days ago or thought possible even a few hours ago. "She told me, but I had a couple questions." "Oh," he sat down in his chair and positioned it in front of me. "Well what do you need to ask?" I stood up, and if he had the control at the beginning of our encounter, I most certainly had it now. He sat transfixed. He might have thought he was the professional, that he might never do anything like what was about to happen, but then again no one does. It didn't matter that he was married, that he had two small children, or that he sincerely loved his wife. Standing in front of him was a young beautiful woman that had taken control of the room, whose body was clearly on the offering plate, for him, and that was all it took to control him. He might not act, but he clearly wasn't able to resist, and that's all it took to loose total control of the situation. I pulled off my gown, standing in only my black thong. "Do you think I have nice breasts? Are they too large?" He didn't respond quickly. He was shocked, dumbfounded. "Um, you really should get dressed." He stumbled around in his chair and started to stand up. I got right next to him and grabbed his hand, put it flat on my breast and pulled it tight so my breast pancaked against me. "I just wanted to know if you thought they were nice. You made the comment that they were large." I released my hand, but he didn't. "They are beautiful, perfect," and as if he suddenly knew what he was doing, he released my breast and tried to back away from me. "My second question." "Ok, but then you must get dressed. I can't be in here with you like this." I was only inches away from him, looking slightly up into his eyes, "do you normally press your cock into the back of your patient when you have your hand on her chest?" He was silent. He tried to move but half his body didn't want to leave, so he hesitated. I grabbed both his arms just below his elbows, and he didn't resist. I used my grip to guide his hands towards my tits, and once his hands were there, he took hold of them, squeezing them tight, without my assistance. I closed my eyes and my head leaned back with the sensation of his touch. I released his arms and let him feel me up. While he squeezed my breasts I asked him once again, "do you normally press your cock against a patient's back?" He released my chest. "No." He was defeated. "So I am special." It was a statement more than a question. "I am sorry about all of this, I should leave." "No. Not yet." I dropped to my knees and pulled his white coat to the side, unzipped his dress pants and heard him utter an "oh god" just before he sat down on his chair. I didn't have to search long for his cock. It was hard and ready for me. I took him into my mouth and easily handled his size. I didn't try to play around with him. I had a goal, and I was clearly in a time crunch. Between his moans he asked me to hurry, completely surrendering to my power. I worked him hard and fast, taking him all the way and sucking hard as I withdrew. I used my lips on his head like I knew I liked and licked the under side of his cock with my tongue. My head bobbed up and down on his dick until I felt his thighs stiffen and his ass lift a little off the chair. "I'm going to cum." He paused a minute. "Really I'm going to cum." He was clearly telling me so I could stop sucking him, but instead I looked up at him, his cock all the way in my mouth and I moaned a little. That's all it took. As I was pulling back on his cock, he released. I felt the surge of his cum just as my lips reached the head of his dick. It was overwhelming. The taste surged through my body. The feeling of the release was greater than I thought it would be, and the feeling of his entire body thrashing from the orgasm provided by my mouth was spectactular. I didn't take him all the way back in my mouth. I moved half way down on him and back quickly so as to milk his cock. I didn't swallow. I held it all in my mouth and I started to feel the pool of cum in the back of my throat. It was coating my teeth and gathering under my tongue. As the thickness faded, it because more loose and watery, but the taste was still something that seemed to get stronger and more intense. Eventually he stopped cumming and softened. I released him from my mouth carefully, trying to keep my lips around his cock and his cum within my mouth. A small drip of his cum escaped my mouth and landed on my left boob. "You can use the sink if you need to." I looked up at him and swallowed. "Who wants a sink?" I got up and sat down on the patient table and smiled at him. He didn't say a word, just got up and went into his office. I leaned back and closed my eyes, the taste of his cum still in the mouth and the feeling of it still coating my teeth. It was amazing. I was in love with it, and at the same time I began to wonder why in the world any woman had ever told me they didn't like giving head. I took of the gown and got dressed. I didn't wait for the nurse or the doctor to come back in the room. Instead I went to the front desk and told them I was done. The lady behind the counter handed me a form to sign and then asked for the twenty dollar co-pay, then asked if everything went ok. "Everything was done in fine taste." I smiled at the double meaning, something I only understood and then heard her instructions as to how long it would take to get the results and that the doctor would call me when they came back. I thanked her and left, got in my car and sat there thinking of how what I did was absolutely crazy. It was everyman's wet dream, and every woman's pass straight to whoredom. It was what brought a smile to my face, one less thing to do on my list, and panties that desperately needed to be changed. *********** I didn't go to the therapist. I was too scared. I stopped by the liquor store and got a fifth of vodka and picked up some OJ. I needed a drink, alone. I got home just before 3pm and made me a drink. I had to control this. I knew what I was doing; it wasn't like I was a robot and doing something against my will, but the desire was so strong and the sensation was so amazing that I just wanted to do it, even though I knew I shouldn't be wanting to or doing it. I drank my drink in silence and thought long and hard about everything. I couldn't taste him anymore, but I could still feel him in my mouth. I couldn't get the feeling out of my mind. The feeling of the soft skin of his cock on my tongue, the way it felt to drag my lips on the head of his dick, feel it push back into my mouth and feel his public hair on my face, knowing the entire length of his cock was in my mouth. I shook my head. It was like I couldn't stop thinking about it. I couldn't control it. Allison called and asked how last night went, but I blew her off and told her I'd have to talk to her later. I did ask her if we had any plans for the weekend. When I hung up, I went to the computer in the bedroom, took of my bra (that has to be the best feeling ever) and got online. Before I knew what I was doing, I had logged into my old email account, and to my horror and shock, it was clear that "I" had been active in my email. It never had occurred to me that "I" might actually still exist, that someone was in my old body living my life. Was it Tiffany? I had to know. I ran to the living room (reminded myself never to do that again without a bra on) and got my cell. I dialed the number and right away "I" answered. "This is Stephen." I froze. It was my voice. It was me, but it wasn't. I felt caught, exposed. I felt like I had suddenly stolen someone and done something very wrong. "Hello? Is anyone there?" I cleared my throat, "Um, this is Tiffany." There was a long pause on his end. "I wondered when you might call." "So you knew. And you are Tiffany." He laughed. "No, like you said, you are Tiffany." I pleaded, "We need to meet." "No we really don't." "But I woke up and I was you. What do you mean you don't want to meet?" "What good would it do? I don't want to go back. Do you?" I thought about how to answer that. I had the feeling that this was a cycle for me, that I would be someone else one day. I had the epiphone that I was Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, except I was a different person every lifetime. It was like reincarnation, except I was living the same time period over and over. "I guess I wouldn't, but still. I know nothing about your life. I need to know things." "Don't you think I'm in the same boat? Listen. It's your life, do whatever. I was sick of living in that body. I'll think about meeting with you, but for not for right now. You got school starting soon. Look under the bed in a red Tupperware container, find the black diary behind the drawer in the bedside table. Also, you might want get familiar with your Bob in that drawer. That should help you. Oh yeah, one last thing. Stay away from Alex. Bye. I'll call you if I change my mind." And then there was silence. I looked at my phone. "What the fuck is a bob?" More than helping, I was more confused. I walked into the kitchen and made another drink. Leaning against the fridge, I became acutely aware of my body. I loved the way I felt. The center of gravity being lower, the weight on my chest, the smoothness of my legs. I felt delicate, graceful. I felt attractive, something I had never felt before. I broke my meditation and made my way to the bedroom. I put my drink on the bedside table and got down on my knees and looked under the bed. I tried to look, but my boobs distracted me. They shifted when I shifter, something I was going to have to get use to, and I could feel them hanging, pulling as I shifted position. I used my right arm to hold them in place and then put my head directly on the carpet and with my left arm pulled the red Tupperware container out from under the bed. As soon as I started to open it, I knew what was inside. Anyone who has smelled pot before could not escape the overpowering smell. I had smoked pot in college, and just a few days ago as a very large man, but the idea of smoking now intrigued me. I knew that it had different affects on different people. While I was in college, it steadied my mind, allowing me to concentrate and actually spend time writing. When I had fucked Lisa, it seemed like it had little to no affect on me. I took the container to the living room, ignoring the black book that would have given me so much more information about myself, and searched for something to smoke it with. In a series of a few days, I was searching, again. Initially my search provided nothing, but then I opened up the container and saw a small pipe. I took two buds and packed the bowl, took out the lighter and took a small hit. It was smooth, but strong, really strong. I took hit after hit until it was cashed, set it on the table, and leaned back on the couch allowing the feeling to overtake me. In no time, I felt different, but a high that made me question whether I was high until the point came when I knew without a doubt that I was soaring. My mind couldn't hold a thought, my attention was all over the place. I laughed out loud at my situation and then started exploring my body (not in a sexual way). I pulled my shirt up and struggled with my bra. I held one of my breasts up and just studied it. I marveled at how strange boobs were, the absurdity that fatty flesh protruding from a body can provide that much pleasure for someone, but also at how soft and nice they felt both to feel and have felt. It was strange that I had an erogenous zone right underneath my chin just sitting there. For at least thirty minutes this is how I spent my time. I struggled for a good five minutes trying to look at my ass, never quite figuring out that I couldn't look in the mirror, looking more like a dog chasing her tail than a woman inspecting herself. I wound up in a tank top and panties, looking like a crazy person. Once I was done I decide (in all my high wisdom) that another drink was in order as well as another bowl. The pot made the drink go down easy, and the drink made the pot less harsh, relieving my dry mouth. I was so high by the end of the second bowl that I struggled just to stand up, but somewhere along the line, I decided that I would try and figure out what she had meant by "bob." I stumbled to the bedroom only to fall on the bed. I remained there for a few minutes, enjoying the sensation of being high, a feeling I had never really felt before even though I had smoked too many times to count. Eventually however, I remembered why I had come back to the bedroom. I rolled over to the bedside table, opened the drawer, which came completely out and dumped everything out on the floor, and there it was. On the floor, among letters, an address book, some papers of some sort and pens, finger nail polish, a few tampons and pads, was a large pink vibrator shaped like a penis. It was large, very large. It had a head like a penis, balls, and the shaft even had veins. It had to be 10-12 inches and thick, not like a coke can or anything, but still impressive and intimidating. It was bigger than James, bigger than my black dick, and definitely bigger than the doctor's. I picked it up and felt the weight as well as the softness of the plastic cock. At the base was the cap that held the batteries that rotated to provide the rate of vibration, which I tested out for a second and laughed at the feeling of it. I shook the thing to see if it would move like a real dick, but even though it gave with pressure, it wasn't limp in the least bit. I laughed at the size of it, the feel of it, and then when I got the joke she told me, Bob, "battery operated boyfriend," I couldn't stop laughing. Somewhere along the lines, I stopped laughing and decided that it needed to be tried out. The decision was made in the vein of exploring all possibilities of this body, I told myself, rather than any sexual need, which of course as soon as the thought came to mind, I started laughing again. I tried to pull my panties to the side and push it into me, but my panties kept pulling on my labia, so frustrated, I threw my legs into the air and pulled them off. I spread my legs wide, scooting my feet towards my butt, and then tried to get the right angle where I could hold the vibrator in a good position to enter me. I never would have thought it would be so difficult, difficult to some measure certainly because of my condition. I tried to push it into me, but I was so dry that it basically stuck on my lips. Instead, I turned the knob slightly and placed the head on my clit and immediately my body started small convulsions as if I was having a seizure. When I removed it, they stopped, when I reapplied they came back. It was like an instant "on" switch. I felt myself get wet. I figured it was time to get the thing in me, so I turned off the vibration and pushed it in. Immediately I felt the difference in size. I felt myself pushed open. It was a good feeling, but extremely strange, but I eventually reaching a point where it was just so tight to push anymore and the pressure was so great that I stopped and just let it stay there for a minute. I leaned back, my hands to my side as if I was Jesus, except my legs were up and a giant vibrator was half inside me. I sat there catching my breath, the room spinning around, and tried my best to concentrate on how it felt to have that thing just sitting inside me. I could feel the stretch and the pressure, but I was amazed that I couldn't make out every inch of it inside me. I propped myself up to look at it and was surprised that only half the thing was actually inside. I was determined to get it all in. If the girls in porn could take a big cock, then it had to be possible. I pulled it out a few inches and then pulled it back into me, reaching the tightness and the increased pressure but trying to go past it. I continued to pull it into me, using the balls as a handle, until I thought I would throw up. I felt like it was in my stomach. I took it out and pulled it back into me, each time getting a little further in and feeling a little less overwhelming pressure. I leaned my head back and imagined I was Lisa when she was getting fucked and could instantly relate to how she reacted. How someone could compose themselves or fake any feeling with something like this inside you was beyond me. In the process of my high imagination, I didn't notice that I had worked myself open enough to get the vibrator in me all the way to the balls. Again I was amazed that I couldn't feel the length of the vibrator in me, just the pressure. I felt the stretch of its girth and the balls resting against my clit. Then suddenly I got the wonderful idea that only a high can provide. I wanted to see if I could walk around with it in me. I rolled to the edge of the bed and tried to stand. Being as high as I was it was a struggle, but then as soon as I stood it slowly started to slide out of me. I bent over and pushed it back into me and found if I clinched really hard I could hold it in. After two stepps I simply fell on the floor and started laughing at the entire situation. I pulled it out of me and felt the void. If I couldn't feel the length inside me, I certainly could feel how open I was, but my attention had moved on. I needed something to drink. I didn't even think to make another liquor drink. I simply got some water and drank, leaning back against the fridge and thinking out loud how wonderful life was. I sat on the couch just as I was and turned on the television. It was mid afternoon, so I knew nothing would be on, but there were many days that I would simply turn on Sport Center and watch the same thing hour after hour. I sat there and watched reports of scores of games that I had no interest in, enjoying my high until I started to feel a bit more normal. That was the signal to smoke more. I was determined to spend the day indulging. After I had smoked two more bowls, I went to the bathroom and peed, and when I walked back into the living room there was a knock at the door. I asked who it was through the door. The reply came "Alex." I knew that name from somewhere, but I didn't know where. I opened the door not even thinking about my present state. He walked in looked me up and down and started laughing, and instinctively I hugged him and told him how great it was to have someone with me. I ignored any response of his and asked him if he wanted to smoke some pot. We found ourselves on the couch, him packing a bowl and smoking it while I leaned back and looked at the ceiling. "You know you don't have any panties on right?" I laughed. I was out of my mind high. "Yeah I took em off to try my bob." "Your bob?" I laughed again, "you know I so didn't know what that meant at first either." I hit his shoulder in the drunken teenager way a girl flirts with a guy. "Battery operated boyfriend." "Your vibrator?" "Yeah. It's pink. And oh my god, the damn thing is huge, and it has these balls..." I paused. "You so don't want to know that." I leaned back and laughed. "So you just got done masterbating and you didn't remember to put any panties back on?" He took a puff. "No, I wasn't really masterbating. I just wanted to see if I could get the thing inside me. Then I was trying to see if I could walk with it inside me." "And how did that go for ya?" Another puff. "I fell down." I started laughing so much that I leaned against him. It was almost as if that was the first moment that I noticed that he was there, that it was a man. "Hey, you let me suck your dick?" "You want to suck my dick?" He sounded shocked. "Yeah, it will be nice. Come on. It's no big deal. Can I?" "Shit, if you want to, be my guest. Guys dream. BJ, Sport Center, and weed." I crawled at great effort to his crotch and struggled to get his jeans open. I failed. He decided to help, unbuttoning his pants and lowering his zipper, then pulling his soft dick out. I took him on my mouth laying on the couch, resting on his thigh, but the position was just too difficult. I almost fell off the couch trying to get between his legs, and once there, I tried to suck him, but his jeans just kept getting in my way, his zipper rubbing my chin. "Let me take em all the way off. I want to feel your balls too." "Who are you?" He half stood, pulling his jeans and boxers down to his ankle where I helped him get his feet out. I started sucking to the point where his dick was hard and then I started rubbing his balls with my hand. He had leaned over me and put the pipe on the table, and then started holding my head as I sucked him. I knew it was a sloppy blow job I was so high, but I kept at it. I knew he was close when his grip on my head was harder, and eventually, he let go of my head, let out a grunt, and I felt him cum in my mouth. It wasn't a forceful shot, but I felt the thickness of his cum in my mouth and the throbbing of his cock against my lips. I sucked him as best I could until he started getting soft, and then I simply stood up and laid down on the couch, putting my legs up on his lap. "You can fuck me when you get hard again." I didn't look at him. I just closed my eyes and laid my head back on the arm of the couch and felt myself spin. I think I passed out for a bit, because when I opened my eyes, he had moved toward me, my thighs on his, and he had one of his hands under my shirt squeezing my tit. Slurring my words, I asked, "You think I got nice tits?" "You know you got nice tits." I didn't hear it, but someone knocked at the door. "Hey you gonna answer that?" "Answer what?" "The door." "I can't move. You get it." I laid there with my eyes closed, my shirt up around my neck, my tits out, but my panties on. I heard some arguing, but I didn't know or care what was going on, and eventually he came back and sat down on the couch next to me. "So your just hanging out are you?" I recognized the voice, but I struggled to open my eyes. I felt a hand on my thigh. "I told you to watch out for him." I opened my eyes. "Hey, your me." I was excited, not noticing still that my breasts were out. "Why are you here?" For the moment I forgot Alex had even been there. "I'm here to check up on you, and its clear now that its good that I did. At least you still have your panties on." I half sat up, leaning against the back of the couch and smiled at him. He wasn't smiling back. "What's wrong?" I was struggling to keep my eyes open. "Look at you." I ignored what he said. "Hey, you want to fuck? It might be fun to fuck myself." I started to laugh. He just starred at me. I leaned forward and tried to get to his crotch. I knew what he had in his pants, and I was curious to see what it was like from the woman's point of view. I tried to unzip his pants, but he just pushed me away. "You've turned into a real whore." I looked up at myself. "But you were the whore first. I just took over your body." I started laughing, and put my head on his thigh, rubbing his hardening cock. "I was never into sex. Alex was the only person I had ever had sex with and that was only because he raped me." I looked up at him, my face still on his thigh. "I hated that my body reeked of sex and Allison and all the rest of them pushed me to have sex. But if you are into sex, then I guess its about time to try it out as a man." I couldn't thing straight. I tried to process the whole thing. If she wasn't into sex, why was I like this? Before I could really think about it, he had taken off his pants. "So you like sex do ya?" I tried to turn over, but he grabbed my leg and pushed me back on my back. He grabbed my panties and pulled them off, and then used my legs to pull me to the edge of the couch. Before I knew what he was doing, he pulled my legs up and pushed his dick in me. He began fucking me as if he was a teenager, not pausing, not going slow. He pushed my legs back and hammered down in me. There was no pleasure, just pounding, and in no time he had dropped his load and pulled out of me. He pulled up his pants and went to the door and looked back at me. "You gotta face it. What your doing is all you, not my body, not me. Your doing what you want to do. Face it. Deal with it. Bye." He closed the door and was gone. I was left on the couch, his cum dripping out of me onto the couch, still high, and I drifted off to sleep. And so the Book of Tiffany Begins