Sabbatical For The Soul -- Day 3: Santorini Scramble free porn video

"I'm doing fine. You don't have to be here." "I know. I want to be here though." It was the same hospital room. The same sterile green walls. The familiar drone of the pale fluorescent light. The IV pumped whirred, providing another small infusion of morphine. It was the only thing keeping her pain at bay. A second IV pump chimed in, serving another dose of anti-nauseant to combat the side effects from her narcotic. Every time he came it killed him. The once rosy cheeks of his fianc?e were now gaunt and frail. Her beautiful blonde hair robbed by the chemotherapy that the doctors said would buy her a few precious months. Only now he wasn't sure whether the months were filled with life, or with suffering. If seeing his fianc?e killed him, it was when he left the hospital every night that he died. Opening the door to the apartment they once shared, only darkness and silence greeted him. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving her, so near the end he borrowed a cot from the hospital and stayed in her room. Sharon was a fighter. She told him she wanted to look at him for as long as she could, that she hoped to etch his image into her memory, something to take with her. That was enough. There was one thing the cancer did not touch: her brilliant sky-blue eyes. While her entire body was sapped, her eyes still danced and sparkled. But as she continued to decline, she spent more time sleeping, and longer and longer those lively eyes stayed closed. She eventually confessed that she was tired; that she's memorized his face; that she was now content. "But...you.... You need to take care...of yourself. Promise me. Find someone. You deserve someone...who can walk with you.... And when your time...is up...you can come...tell me...all about...who you've found." "You're the one I love, dear." "Just...promise me." "...OK." With that, her eyes drifted shut, forever covering those vivacious azure pools. ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ The dainty damsel grumbled inwardly to himself, as he struggled to keep his massive sunhat from taking flight into the passing ocean breeze. Beside him, Tamara was seated beside him, busy snapping away on her camera as their ferry approached the island of Santorini. On the one hand, he was not happy that Tamara insisted he wore the hat. "You'll burn!" She exclaimed. "Didn't you bring a hat or something?" "I'm...not sure I packed one," he muttered. ~Because I didn't pack any of this!~ "A ha! I found one!" She pulled out the wide-brimmed hat from his closet, wrapped with a pretty pink ribbon that tied into a bow on the side. But on the other hand, he was begrudgingly thankful for the shade that the hat was now offering him. Even at ten o'clock in the morning, the Greek sun was out in full force, set against a cloudless blue sky. "And look! It matches your dress!" And that's why he resented the hat. The Compulsion had pushed him towards another one of Vivian's maxi dresses, this time a clingier cotton number. The ship, however, foretold another sweltering day in paradise, so he fought the compulsions and forced his hands towards the something that he felt was more practical for the weather. To his astonishment, like a light switch his Compulsion vanished the moment his hand touched the ivory sun-dress. Pulling it over his head, he felt his ample bust slide into place. The bodice clung to his body by thick bands of lace that hung over each shoulder. The square neckline was modest but still exposed enough to keep him cool. The silky bodice hugged his body before flaring out to a cotton skirt that just stopped at his knees. Pink ballet flats completed his look. ~So it seems I have a bit of free will in the matter?~ Only now his free will was a big karmic joke. He wanted to escape the girly-girl as best he can, but fate had decided accessorize his outfit. He turned to Tamara, dressed in capris-length skinny jeans and a midriff-baring tank-top. She shot him a sidelong glance with a Cheshire-cat grin, before turning away to drink in more the scenery. If he didn't know better, he reckoned she forced the hat on him, knowing full well too that he didn't want to look the damsel again. Ahead of them, the gleaming island of Santorini invited them forth. Brilliant white walls of various shops, restaurants, and lodgings were perched high on the hillside, with smaller specks of people milling around. In fact, all the buildings on the island were white, looking exactly like the posters of the island he's seen at travel agencies. The ferry pulled up to the dock, and one by one they disembarked. The dock was a large concrete structure, jutting out into the ocean, a stark contrast with the idyllic stores and stalls that peppered the shoreline. He looked up at the hill, and saw a long walled path, a series of switchbacks that carved up the hill. At its base, there were group of donkeys leashed to the bottom of the path. "I've been to Santorini once before but it was by airplane, so I never had to do the climb." Tamara remarked. "You can walk up too but it tends to be a bit nasty from the donkey droppings, so they really recommend riding the donkeys." ~How am I going to do this in a dress? ~ "I'm not entirely comfortable with riding a donkey. Let's just walk." "Nonsense!" Tamara grabbed his hands and pulled him along, "C'mon this looks so fun!" They were met with a pair of elderly handlers. With his new shorter stature, even the donkeys towered above him. In front, Tamara nimbly hopped on to her donkey, and waited for him. The diminutive girl, on the other hand, struggled to mount the animal. After a few failed attempts the handler reached out his hand and reluctantly, the redhead accepted his assistance. Placing one hand on the saddle and firmly grabbing the handler's in the other, he was finally able slip one feet into the stirrup as he pulled himself onto the animal...only to flopped his belly onto the donkey, with his legs dangling out the other side. A crimson glow peaked as he realized he was at a real risk of flashing everyone on the island. ~I have to be on this boat for the rest of the trip...and I'm a girl already. I do NOT want to be known as the girl that flashed the island!~ So, reluctantly, he flipped back onto his bum, and settled on side- mounting the animal. He realized just how feminine he must've looked. There he was, a maiden with fiery locks peaking from her wide-brimmed hat, sitting demurely on the animal, smoothing out the skirt of her smock. The donkey cared for none of this. It neighed, glad that its passenger had finally settled in, and set off. Gradually, it trudged up the long hill, as he hung precariously to the animal, trying desperately not to slip off. A third of the way up, he lost his balance and with an inadvertently girly yelp, slid off the animal. He scrambled back on, only to slip off again ten yards down the path. Speaking impatiently in Greek, the handler helped him back onto the animal, but gestured that the girl really should straddle the animal properly. Up ahead Tamara and shouted, "C'mon stop being such a girl! We're burning daylight here!" He really had no choice. Leaning back, he swung his left leg forward over the donkey's head, keeping his skirt down with his left hand to keep his modesty intact. Thankfully, his swivel ensured that his panty-clad buttock was insulated from the bare saddle by the thin cloth of his skirt. Onward they trudged, the petite lass mounted squarely on her steed, her slender legs barely reaching the stirrups. As he gained his balance on the animal, he gazed towards the ocean. The view was magnificent - stretched out before him was miles and miles of the glistening Mediterranean sea. Off in the distance he could see a few smaller boats, undoubtedly fishermen casting their nets. A soft breeze gently caressed his angelic face. Which began to feel flushed as the animal rocked rhythmical up and down with each step. Forward...backward...up...down. Slowly the repeated motion had pushed the front of his skirt up and to the side, and before he knew it the insides of his creamy thighs were pressed onto the cloth saddle, warmed by the body heat of the animal. He slowly became aware of the rubbing on the inside of his thighs, a region that he discovered to be quite erogenous from his ministrations the previous evening. Forward...backward...up...down.... "Oh...my...!" he panted, as a warm bubble formed from the pits of his belly. It didn't help that the hunger he had been feeling last night was never sated, only stifled and distracted by the view before him. But now that his attention was drawn squarely to his lady bits, he was struggling to maintain his composure. ~Damn this body! Vivian wasn't kidding when she said this body had needs!~ Forward...backward...up...down.... He realized that whereas before he was at risk of giving the island a free peep show, he was now at risk of giving them a show on a whole other level! He pushed his legs against the stirrup, which was barely within the reach of his legs. Standing on them tippy-toe, he was able to alleviate some of the stimulation on his loins. But in this position, the cloth on the saddle started to slide over his thighs, changing the sensations that were now bubbling through him. His nethers felt warm, moist, engorged. Slide...slide...slide...slide.... "Mm. Mmm. Mm!" Little urgent peeps escaped as he bit his lower lip, desperately trying to keep his voice low, straining to keep the rising titillation at bay. "Isn't it beautiful?!" Tamara cried out. Turning around, she saw the fair lady clad in white, her skirt gently drifting in the wind. Under the hat, she was eagerly nibbling her bottom lip, eyes half-winced, straining on her stirrup as if she was trying to stand as high as possible to take in all the beautiful scenery. "I'm glad you agree!" "Y...yeah!" he managed to reply. ~Play it cool...play it cool. Think of baseball...taxes...just anything else!~ Abruptly, he felt a little jolt as the animal's hoof slipped briefly on the cobblestone. What would have felt like a punch to his groin had he been sitting down, became a gentle nudge over his mound. The shock from the stirrups transmitted up from his legs, to his chest, where his womanly flesh jiggled ever so slightly, rubbing his now hardened nipples against the lacy confines of his bra. A wave of pleasure shot through him. "Ungh!" A strained squeal escaped his lips. The handler turned briefly, giving him a passing glance. "Hooookay...ooookay...breath...breath," he muttered to himself. By the time they'd reached the summit, he was a frazzled mess. With the singular objective of dismounting the animal as soon as he can, he unceremoniously swung his leg off the animal and hopped off. He was sure that his panties were visible, but he just rejoiced the fact that his legs were on terra firma. "Pink." Tamara grinned, having caught a glimpse of his panties. "Shut up..." he said, panting from the lingering jolts of arousal radiating from his lower lips. "Do you need some water? You look kind of flushed. We don't want you to get a heat stroke." "No...it's fine...I just need...to...walk it off." ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ Santorini is an island in the middle of the Aegean sea, itself part of a small circular archipelago. The central lagoon is shielded from the currents of the sea, making it a popular port for cruise ships to offload their passengers. The island itself is a narrow crescent with rugged terrain. Through the years, its inhabitants built on either side of this strip. The area facing the lagoon - known as the Caldera - is prime real estate as it faces west, and is a popular place to stay for the sunset. The two girls spent most of their time on this side of the island, perusing the many small boutiques, art galleries, and souvenir shops. While Tamara flitted from store to store, the young ginger distractedly followed, lost in thought. The dream he had about his fianc?e was unexpected. It took nearly a year after her death for him to reach this tenuous-but-comfortable status quo, before it all fell apart last night. It was still unclear to him why he'd felt comfortable opening up to Tamara, but part of him wonders what role the Exchange had played. For one thing, he was sure it was not due to a Compulsion - he did not feel the tell-tale push. No, he gathered, it goes much deeper. Staring down at his womanly figure, he realized that his change of body has also forced him to examine his own identity. When he first met Sharon in college, he was still an individual person, trying to find his place in the world. When he and Sharon started dating, he saw himself as Sharon's boyfriend. When he finally worked up the courage to propose to her, he saw himself as her husband. When she got sick, he became her caregiver. And when she died, he was marooned. Amidst the chaotic flotsam that remained of their life, he found comfort in his devotion to her, and clung on to the piece that identified him as her widower. At first, it kept him from drowning in the overwhelming grief. And for the longest time, he'd told himself that he was hers; that even considering moving on would be the ultimate betrayal to her and all that they've endured. But, he now recognized, that it was just as much his own fears that kept him in place. He'd clung on for so long he's forgotten how to let go, and navigate the desires and aspirations that define him as an individual. And somehow, being in this strange curvy body, it sharply delineated the borders between his identity, and his burdens. The need to maintain his identity, and his very soul, inside this foreign frame, has never been more important. Even with the Compulsions, at the end of it all, he was the one that directs where this all goes. The prospect of searching for his niche among the sea of people ahead of him was daunting, but at this point he really did not have a choice. ~Sink or swim.~ "Oh Isabelle, look at those all the cute sandals they have here! I really love that one right over there!" Tamara grabbed her hand and dragged her into the next boutique. ~OK...I might not know what I want yet, but I'm definitely it isn't shoe-shopping! ~ ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ The girls sat at the caf?, matching ankle sandals encasing their feet. "See? I told you it'd look good on you. When in Greek, do as the Greeks do!" "I'm sure you mean 'Rome' and 'Romans', Tamara." The ginger jabbed back, "but credit where it's due, it's not bad! I'm sorry I left my wallet on the ship!" He twisted his ankle backwards to look; the leather strappy sandal was very Greek, and was indeed quite flattering on his now dainty feet. "I already said that's fine! It was such a good deal anyways - buy one get one free!" They spent a considerable amount of time in the last boutique, much to his initial chagrin. After all, shoe-shopping was the domain of women. But not only did Tamara's infectious enthusiasm had eventually pulled him from his introspective funk, he also could not help but enjoy seeing his reflection posing gleefully with Tamara as the two girls played dress-up with shoes. He did feel a pang of guilt that Tamara was buying the sandals as a "token of our time on Santorini!" He'll never have any token of this shared moment, he realized, because the Exchange was destined to expire, and he was destined to return to his own body, in his cluttered New York apartment. ~At least I'll have the memories.~ he reflected. And at the present, the server appeared with their order - two Greek salads. "Thank you kindly Cynthia. It's great to be back." Tamara chirped. This was one of her favorite restaurants on the island, she had explained to him, with the best Greek salad she'd ever tasted. "It's been too long Tammy. And you're looking wonderful. I hope you and your friend enjoy your meal!" And he most certainly enjoyed it. Tamara was right - it was indeed one of the best he'd ever tasted, the fresh scent of olive oil and the creamy feta cheese lingering in his mouth. Leaning back as he sipped his wine, he inhaled the fresh Aegean scenery before him. For the first time since his forced vacation, he felt at ease. And as the cool midday breeze caressed his strawberry-blonde locks and batted it about playfully, he gracefully tucked it back behind his ear. He gave a contented sigh. It sounded girly, but he didn't mind. ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ The cool midday breeze slowed to a warm sluggish puff as the sun lumbered across the afternoon sky. With it, the island's rhythm slackened. Full bellies and warm weather pushed some tourists into caf?s, choosing an iced-coffee and a lazy cat nap to escape the afternoon heat. Even the caf? staff moved sluggishly, not even bothering to evict their snoring loiterers. This was island culture. Other tourists flocked to the air-conditioned reprieve of local museums and galleries, trying to make the most of their short stay in the idyllic island. This was where the two girls were, as they inspected some of the historical artwork and artifacts on display. Eventually, his feet tired and he sat down in front of a statue depicting what looked to be fairly steamy scene. There was a young baby-faced man, lying down, feet entwined by a nubile maiden. She was on top, her arms around his torso, head arched forward, looking at him with pleading eyes. His head was turned away in aversion, with one hand placed over his forehead, and his face cast with despair. The other was outstretched, on the ground, as if he was trying to pull himself away. The more he inspected the sculpture, the more puzzled he became. "Interesting piece," Tamara commented, joining him on the bench. "According to the brochure, this is a modern piece, interpreting the meeting between Salmacis and Hermaphroditus." "Hermaphroditus?" The curious lass, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah. Apparently, his name is a combination of his father and mother, Hermes and Aphrodite. He loved to wander the wooded hills when one day he came across a crystal clear pool." She continued to read from the brochure. "In it, lived the nymph Salmacis. Unlike her sisters, she was unskilled with the bow and unlearned in the way of the hunt. Instead, she enjoyed bathing in her pool, combing out her hair, and collecting the flowers that grew on her hillside." "Wow," he yawned. "Girly girl much?" "It gets better," Tamara replies. "When Hermaphroditus gazed into her pool, Salmacis immediately fell in love. Overcome with lust, she sprung forth from the pool and embraced him. Stunned, he jumped back, pushing her away. "They continued their struggle, tumbling about in the woods. Mad with passion, she wraps her legs around and clings onto his chest. Declaring her desire for him, she beseeched the Gods to make them forever inseparable. "The Gods heard her prayer and granted her wish. Her flesh melded unto him and his unto her. Together they merged until one body remained. One body with both sexes. The boy, now lost in the woman, marvels at his supple body and new bosom. "Well, what do you think of that?" Tamara shuts the brochure and looks to her companion, only to find a sleeping girl, leaned up against her own larger frame, fast asleep. Some of her tresses fell forward, partially obscuring her fair features. "You...." Tamara smiles, "are such a girly girl." ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ He stirred first, awoken by small pool of drool that'd soaked his face and whatever surface he'd been rested on. Looking up, he realized he had been resting on Tamara, who was fast asleep herself, head tilted forward. Up until now, Tamara had been incessantly animated, so it was the first time he'd seen her quiet. He noticed her soft features. She was a tomboy, but she was mindful of her appearance. Her eyebrows were well-defined, undoubtedly with a little help from makeup. She had flirty eyelashes, long and soft. Her nose was small but pointed, and led down to a pair of soft, pale lips. Simple diamond studs adorned her earlobes, while a simple silver chain was wrapped around her slender neck, meeting in the middle to hold a jade pendant in place. ~She's a tomboy...but she looks kind of nice from this angle.~ He gingerly stood up, careful not to wake her, and stretched his arms and legs. Staring at the entranceway of the now empty gallery room, he noticed a fiery orange glow emanating in that direction, suggesting that it was sunset outside. Time to get back to the ship. "Hey Tamara," he whispered, tapping on her shoulders. "It's getting late. We should head back." "Huh wha...ughh....yeah OK." They made their way back to the bag checkout. He had placed his small purse into Tamara's larger beach bag and checked it in as one article. Tamara hoisted the bag on her shoulder as they exited the building. The sky was now ablaze with vibrant shades of reds and oranges. All around them, the island was bathed in the neon orange glow of the setting sun as it began its descent into the horizon. "Santorini is famous for having the best sunset in the world. I think our cruise company had reserved a private area for the passengers to assemble and see the sunset before we leave. We better head there bef...!" She was interrupted mid-sentence as a man, dressed in a T-shirt and khaki shorts, bumped roughly into the sisterly couple. As he passed, he gruffly snatched Tamara's beach bag, and bolted into a side alley! "Oh crap!" Tamara exclaimed. The two gave chase, dashing after the purse-snatcher. The three dove in between the cluttered buildings, darting haphazardly from alley to alley while dodging occasional debris. All their identifications were in that bag - if they don't get it back, they won't be able to board the ship! As the chase continued, he found it increasingly difficult to maintain the pace. The strides of his smaller frame were shorter, so he was simply covering less ground with each step. His wider hips and the incessant jiggling up top was throwing him off, forcing him to hold his forearms outwards to simply keep his balance. Unbeknownst to him, the effect was a petite redhead, elbows tucked but hands girlishly outstretched to keep balance, the skirt of her white sun-dress fluttering about her as she scurried along the other two, who have now built a considerable lead. As they rounded another corner, he cursed under his breath. Furiously pumping his arms, he redoubled his efforts. It seems that Vivian's body had impressive stamina for him to be able to sprint this long - even longer than in his old body, he realized. Ignoring the mild ache over his bouncing chest as his bra struggled to keep its fleshy contents in check, he gritted his teeth and tore around the next corner. Nothing. "Shit!" he exclaimed. He lost both of them now. Slowing to a jog, he strained his senses to pick up anything beyond the sound of his wheezing breath and the heavy thumping of his heartbeat. CRASH! And a cry. Whipping his head rightward, hair flying, he noted the clamors of a struggle in an alley off to his right. Picking up a large straw basket sitting on the side of the street, he snuck around the corner. Tamara was on the ground, with one hand still clutching her bag, while the thief was pulling on the other handle. Despite having caught up and having a handhold on the bag, she was clearly disadvantaged in this tug of war as she kicked and pulled. Seeing that he had the upper hand, the thief cocked his leg back, poised to deliver a forceful kick.... He chose this time to dive into the fray, managing to reach over the thief's head as he slammed the basket over him. Pulling down with the weight of his tiny figure as he landed, he yanked the thief off- balance. Seizing this opportunity, he threw all his weight into his heel as he kicked the thief, causing him to release the bag as he stumble sideways into a nearby archway. Relieved that his ambush was successful, he snaps the bag over his shoulder as he grabs Tamara's hand with his own and pulls her up. "C'mon! Before he gets back up!" he yells, and dashes away, Tamara in tow. The pair rushes away, making their way back to the main road. Tamara limped along behind, having twisted her ankle in her confrontation. Ahead, she saw the girl ahead, a curtain of light cherry curls bouncing behind her with each step, afire with the soft orange glow of the setting sun. One petite hand was clutching onto the bag that was now slung over her shoulder, while the other was reaching back, slender fingers intertwining with her own larger hand as she dragged her along. Her body was encased in the silky sundress that accentuated her slender waist while the skirt billowed modestly about her. Tamara found herself transfixed by the beauty before her as they scurried their way back, finally slowing their pace as they reached the designated rendez-vous. Despite having reached the cruise security staff, he was still bursting from the cocktail of adrenaline and endorphins that now coursed through him. "Did you see that?!" He gushed, "I can't believe I pulled it off." "Yeah..." Tamara panted, clearly the less fit of the two, "I'm actually glad you were able to sneak up and take him down. And we got our stuff back." "I KNOW!!!" he squealed. "Hooo man...ooh wow...hahaha." He started laughing, elated at his victory. Tamara joined in. As they walked along the path back to the ship, his heart fluttered as he realized he was still holding onto her hand. As they drank in the beautiful sunset scenery before them, he decided to surrender himself to the moment; after all, he deserved it after his heroic rescue. Tamara however, had noticed a long time ago. Her flushed cheeks were not, in fact, from their earlier escapade. So the two girls strolled back to the dock, hand in hand, giggling uncontrollably, as the orange sunset bathed the Caldera, signaling the end of their day, and of their adventure in Santorini. ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ *** ~~~ As the ship set sail into the night ocean, the pair decided to dine al-fresco on the top deck. Stopping by the dining hall, they grabbed some food before finding a table under the stars. "I was kicking him away and then out of the corner of my eye, you FLY in all slow motion, with a basket! You looked like the tiniest, cutest demon, with your hair flying all over the place, slam-dunking the basket over him." She chuckled. "I can't wait to write about THIS adventure." "Well I'm not the tallest if you haven't noticed!" He huffed back. "And don't forget, this 'cute demon' kicked ass!" He could barely believe he just called himself cute, but he was absolutely delighted by the pot-shots they took at each other. Each time he jabbed back, her reaction made his heart skip a beat and each time she rebutted, his heart rate quickened. Were they flirting? Ever since they had returned, his heart had been pitter-patter. Here under the whispering moonlight, Tamara's soft features was absolutely enchanting, framed by her short pixie cut that wavered gently in the passing ocean breeze. It's been far too long since he's even allowed himself to have a flirtatious conversation, to feel the thrilling tension of this romantic chess game as each side offered just enough to evoke a response from the opponent, but not go so far as to appear desperate. The back and forth continued, building on a delicate meniscus of innuendo that was easy enough to pierce, but neither had the courage to make the first move. It was a teetering see-saw that hovered tantalizing between "she likes me," and "she likes me not"; between "I think that's what she meant," and "I'm not quite sure that's what she meant." Part of him was surprised how effortlessly he'd fallen into this easy banter. His earlier dream snuck into his mind, but so did Sharon's final wishes. Here, under the crisp Mediterranean evening, the salty draft carried away the weight that he had shouldered for so long. He felt content, at ease, and permitted to desire, to flirt, to pursue. And like goddess Diana who's celestial body now watched over them: to capture. "But what I really want to say, Tamara, was I had a wonderful time." Not that he was still entirely comfortable in his new skin; he had intended to sound suave and sophisticated, but the voice that reached his ear instead sounded sweet and enraptured. Trying to regain the upper hand, he gruffly smooth his hand over his scalp, drawing his hand back over his hair to keep them out of his face, as he stiffed his posture. Like he would as a guy. Which came across from Tamara's viewpoint as a scarlet vixen, framed by moonlight, arching her neck and back as she runs her hand through her luxurious locks before draping them over her right shoulder, just covering her curvy bosom. She gulped, replaying the seductive scene in slow motion in her mind's eye. "I...had a fun time with you too. Although, I can't say I've ever ended a date with getting mugged." Date...he thought to himself. This time it was his turn to blush. Thinking back to all they've done, one really could call it a date; one that he didn't want to end. But as they sat there speechlessly, each lost in their thoughts, he found that he'd run out of moves in this chess game. Checkmate. "It's...getting late. We should probably head back," he remarks, nervously rubbing his arm with his slender hand. "Yes...we...probably should." They silently made their way back to their quarters at the stern of the ship, each not brave enough to voice their reluctance to call it a night, but each too scared to display the desires that was palpably present. Nervously, he wrung his hands in front of him, looking unbelievably feminine. This only served to further drive Tamara's longing. As they reached their neighboring suites, Tamara turns to him. "I want to thank you again, Isabelle, for saving me today. I would not be here if it weren't or you." She hugs him, and he embraces back. They linger as he felt her larger figure envelope him, warming him with a deep, comforting pleasure. He starts to feel the tell-tale bubbling in the pits of his stomach. As they separated, his hands fidgeted with the hem of his skirt. Gazing bashfully from under her bangs with his new hazel eyes, he decides to go for it. "You know, if this is a date, then this is our second date." "Oh?" "So..." He steps in closer, peering into her crystalline eyes. "That means..." he arches his head back. Being a full head taller than him, he did the only thing he could with his arms to bridge the gap - he wraps it around her neck. "...it's alright..." he whispers, his heart beating furiously in his throat and his breath quickening in trembling gasps. He gently pulls down her face. She complies, wrapping her arms around him. "...to...." He closes his eyes, and tilts his head slightly. She does the same. "...do this." With the gentlest of touches, their lips come in contact. He feels his pillowy, girly lips land delicately upon hers, like a butterfly landing on a flower. He sinks into her, feeling her warmth, and feeling his own warmth build in his own core. Little sparks of pleasure emanates from his skin as she slides her hands slowly down his back. He sighs. They slowly drift apart, breathing heavily as they lock gazes. Tamara blindly fumbles in her bag for the keycard while the redhead maiden clings on, worked up from the kiss they had just shared. Clumsily inserting the keycard into the lock behind her, they lean into the door to swing it open, unwilling to break their embrace. As the door closes behind them, so does the distance between their lips. Wordlessly, they continued their kiss while their hands conversed, sliding across each other's bodies. He sighs again as Tamara's hands make their way across his sultry hips. Sneaking under his skirt, she gave his buttocks a playful squeeze. He yelped from the erogenous tickle, and an uncontrolled giggle escaped his lips. There was definitely an advantage to skirts, he decided. Pulling her closer, he yearned for further contact, feeling the warmth of her body flow into his, feeding the need that's been simmering since he awoken in this new sensuous vessel. Eyes closed, they continued to make their way through Tamara's room. Her hands found the zipper of his dress and slowly, she unzipped it. As the dress's bodice released its pressure on his chest, he felt the full weight of breast rest into his bra. His now-erect nipples slid faintly against the confines of the cups, sending another shock of warmth through his lithe figure. Hearing the small girl mewing in pleasure, Tamara continues, gently sliding the straps of the sundress down. The bewitchingly cool air caresses his now uncovered skin as his frock flutters to his feet. He shudders as he leans into her further. "I want to feel you," he purrs, lost in a fog of arousal. Tamara obliges as, panting heavily herself, she whips the tank-top over her head and slithers out of her skinny jeans. He drinks in her Amazonian figure - rosy dark areolas barely visible under her white bra, holding her taut breasts in place. Tracing his gaze downwards, he is greeted by her toned tummy, athletic hips and thighs. Oh my! By this time, Tamara has closed the distance again as she caressed the slender body before her, feeling its smoothness. Reaching behind the frail frame, she unclasps the bra. He gasps, feeling the fleeting moments of the cool night air in between the gentle brushes of his nipples against her body. The gap between his thighs moistened as smoldering waves of passion rush throughout his body. He reaches behind Tamara and unhooks her bra, freeing her globes from their confinement. The room was filled with the sounds of erotic moans as two women swayed in their erotic waltz, nymph-like figures glistening in the pale glow of the Mediterranean evening. Hands and lips brush over skin as they continued their ministrations on one another. His entire body was abuzz as he felt Tamara hand encircle his fingers. Letting her gently guide him onto the bed, he sits down and leans back, propping himself on his elbows. He closes his eyes to savor the sensations as Tamara crawls on top, sliding over his smooth skin. A long soprano moan escapes his lips as she slowly exhales onto his areola. Gingerly, Tamara's tongue glides slowly over his rosy nipple. "Hunnhhh!" Another cry escapes his lips as the waves of arousal now rushed to his head. Discombobulated, he feels his elbows give out from underneath him as he flops onto the bed. Lustful gasps escape his lips from the sultry assault; he can barely make out Tamara's form, as shadows of the night dance across her starlit face. His loins convulse, urging its master to sate its lustful hunger. Tamara looks down to savor the moonlit image of the demure maiden, cheeks flushed, mouth half open, red hair strewn about her face as her chest heaved. The maiden tugs at her with pleading eyes, as if her body was aflame and she was begging for it to be doused. It was, and he was. Tamara lowers herself onto him. He relished the warm weight of her body, completely smothering his smaller frame, simultaneously feeding his hunger but magnifying it. He felt her hands roam his creamy body and breast as fireworks engulfed his mind. She kneads his fleshy orbs, drawing another long "ooooh" from his lips. He squirms, now a merely passenger in his new skin. Out of the corner of his consciousness, he feels her labored breathing approach his loins. He finds himself opening his legs in earnest, as he feels her kisses rain down over his thighs. Tantalizingly they approach, inching closer to his moist entrance. A brief searing flash washed over him as she breathed over his bud, and he lets out a cry. "Unnggghh!" The high-pitched squeal registered as foreign to his ears, but it did not matter - most of his consciousness was already halfway to heaven. She continues to gently blow on his mound, and occasionally flicked at it with her tongue. His inner lips responded to the teasing as it convulsed in anticipation. Desperate to crest the ever-mounting pleasure, he grabs handfuls of his breasts in his tiny hands, madly squeezing, pinching, tickling. Higher and higher he builds, and he finds himself pressed against the precipice of his arousal. But still, like yesterday, no release comes. "Mmm...mm. Hm! Ungh!" Small desperate whimpers escaped his lips as she looked up to see the red-haired beauty writhing in carnal need, hands clawing voraciously at her own globes, hips bucking into the air. They lock gazes. He was trapped. Pressed from behind by the punishing waves of pleasure, against the wall in front that blocked him from his salvation. Try as he might, he was unable to crack that wall. Pinned between the sheets below and Tamara above, he realized just how helpless he was now, in his tiny frame, imprisoned by the shackles of his pleasure. In a remote corner of his mind, he embraced this helplessness. "P...please," he pleaded. Tamara looked back down at the milky slit before her. Gently, she reaches up and massages the mons, as he meets her hand with undulations of his hips. She starts to massage his clitoris in small, sensual circles. "Hnn..unggh..ohhh..huhhnhhgg!" He arches his back and neck, feeling the wall beginning to crumble. So close! "Hnn...yeah...Ple...please!" Tamara reaches forward with her hand and gently, inserts a finger into his canal. Ravenously it clenched around her finger, pulling. Convulsing. Climaxing. "Hyyyeahhhhh!" He screamed, the wall finally toppling before him as the raw orgasmic force slammed into him. His sensations meld into a singularity of pure energy as it mixed and intermingled, from the ring of his erotic screams that exploded from his lips, to the crashing waves of erotic power that completely consumed him. He floated in that delicious state for the briefest of moments, as the momentum from his upward ascent finally slackened. Gently, he began his descent from that glorious apogee, panting hungrily as his consciousness finally returned to the atmosphere. Through the haze, he saw Tamara crawl back up towards her on top, as zaps of sexual aftershocks sizzled through his body. "Wow..." she said. "My turn." "Mmmm..." he cooed, still too deep in the afterglow to form words. He answered with his hands, one reaching for her nipples and the other down to her lower lips. Tamara sunk over him as they shared another passionate kiss. Having found her moist slit, he started to massage it, replicating what he had felt from Tamara's movements earlier. Over top of him, Tamara's breath became ragged as she squirmed under his stimulation. With each stroke of his finger, he drew another moan from her voice. Gradually he increased his pacing, and in response Tamara's slow moans became more urgent, she started pushing her hips into his hands. He yelped in surprise, as the pressure pushed the back of his hand into his own, moist snatch. His residual afterglow that had bathed his entire body, refocused to his womb. "Hmmmm..." he moaned in response, feeling his arousal mount once again. The fragments of his male mind, which had been slowly re- assembling itself after the orgasm, were stunned. ~Am...I...about to...cum again?!~ Driven now by Tamara's moans and his own mounting pleasure, he works his hands furiously, pushing it into her mound while they rocked their hips against each other, working into a fervent pace. Being taller than him, Tamara's breast was within his lips reach and, leaning forward, he began suckling on it. Fireworks erupted as Tamara's climax swept over her, her entire body tensing from the orgasm. As her pelvis arched forward, he felt it push the back of his own hand into his clitoris. Already on the brink of another climax, he felt his entire being burst with energy as another massive orgasm pulsed through him. His male mind, unable to keep up with concept or experience of multiple orgasms, simply shut down. Slowly he felt his consciousness fade into a pink sea of feminine pleasure, engulfing all of his faculties as their shared screams faded into silence.