Layers Ch. 04

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The smell is intoxicating. My smell. I should be getting a boner but there’s nothing there. I can’t even say that I’m feeling a ghost of one because, I’m not. Instead, I feel this pressure building – this tiny ache below my belly button and my pulse speeds up. There’s a … shit, what do I call it? The inside of my – my pussy, it’s… no… hmmm… I want to touch myself and dip my fingers inside but I’m going to wait and take my time. The inside reminds me of my mouth. It’s there. There’s stuff there but it’s not like stuff rubbing together constantly. The only thing is, I can feel the liquid pooling inside. Like drooling – I can feel it against the inside of my mouth and it’s similar here. My pussy is engorged. The, shit, outer lips? I laugh and it’s an odd laugh. I feel almost like I’m high on something. Endorphins, maybe? My heart is racing and I just feel incredibly amazing. I want to run and wrestle and – my laugh bubbles up and it sounds rich. Not at all like my voice. I’m going to have to record myself talking later just to hear what I sound like. But, the pussy. I want to wriggle my legs together and feel how the lips rub against me. I want to taste the liquid shining on my lips. No. I’ll take my time. It’s just really damn hard to not do something. My breasts have stopped growing. I think. They’re full against my chest, flattened out somewhat with the nipples lower and mostly straight. I can feel the weight of them against my chest. The aureole is slightly puckered and big. The nipples are definitely… I’m rocking my hips side to side, feeling my ass against the heels of my feet. Oh. Oh, yes. The motion is rubbing my pussy lips together slightly and it’s delicious. The – damn. Yes. Damn. The lips are preesssssss… pressing against the c…clit… fuck. My hands go to my thighs, the inside of them and I’m kneading at the skin, taut and smooth. I have decent fingernails and they’re digging into the flesh. I can almost feel the heat radiating from my wet cunt. I’m pulling my thighs open and closed and rocking with my hips. The smell from my pussy is getting stronger and stronger. The pressure below my belly button is building even more. Like a thunderstorm brewing in the distance. It takes every ounce of willpower to stop myself. I want it. I want the release. I want to touch my cunt to feel it against my fingers, to know what I feel like. But, I’ll do it when I’m ready. I just… the feeling of need is hard to resist. I can feel it in my teeth nearly – they itch slightly. I want to bite into something. Riled up from the smell of me and the need to cum. My faint moan turns into a growl as I stop and settle down. A very small growl. When I sit back on my heels again, they pull at my ass cheeks which in turn opens my pussy and I nearly lose it right there. Nearly give into this crazy lust. My mind is in a fog. Fuck. Fuck. So, I stand. And stagger slightly – I’m off centered. My tits pull at me enough to notice. At least enough after living as a guy for as long as I have. Hell, my ass feels heavy. That I can even FEEL my ass is different. Oh. And the pussy. Yeah. I can feel that. My thighs are apart if I stand with my feet in line with my shoulders but if I put them together? Fucking-a, yeah. I can feel them rubbing and… I make that little “Haaaaahnnn!” noise and catch myself on the edge of my end table. My breasts swing forward a bit. That’s… that’s really different. “Camera! Where’s my fucking camera?!” And why am I talking out loud to myself? It takes a moment for me to remember where I left my camera but I find it and then make my way to my bedroom. If this goes away, you can be damn sure I’m going to have photos to remember it. And videos. Also, I hate to admit it but I want to see them after. In case I’m imagining all of this. I’m taller and my arms and legs are different. I know my arms are longer because I keep hitting things with them. I’m used to where everything is in the house and can almost find the light switch and other stuff with my eyes closed but now I’m off a bit. I just seem to be taller than I remember. Not by a lot but enough to notice. The standing mirror I inherited from my mother (I never understood why she thought I should have it) is in the corner. I move it to the side of the bed without looking. I’m actually nervous. I almost don’t want to look at myself. What if I don’t see the woman? What if I do but I’m ugly? I never thought I was a particularly handsome guy so what if that translates here? I pick a spot above and to the right of the mirror while I stand back, facing it. I watch that spot as I feel my heart in my throat. It takes over a minute before I look down and into the mirror. All my fears are gone. I’m beautiful. That’s all I know how to describe it. I have a heart shaped face with shoulder length brown hair and hazel/golden eyes. Curly hair. Why did the color change? I’ve always had blonde hair. My nose is small and cute – it fits perfectly with my face. Slight dimples. My cheeks are red – high cheekbones. I’d say my eyes were sparkling but that sounds overly poetic. Slightly tanned looking. Bangs? That’s the right word, right? The part above the eyes. My eyebrows are thin and well-trimmed with not a small hair out of place. Eyelashes… I get closer and see they’re long but not especially thick. I run my fingers through my hair, feeling the fingernails against my scalp. Thick hair that my fingers just glide through, even with the curls. The effect is disconcerting. There’s a beautiful woman standing in the mirror. A beautiful naked woman. But, it’s me. I know it’s me. It’s just really confusing to look in a mirror and see someone completely different. Very confusing. I’m turned on by the woman in the mirror. Turned on by myself. Is that vain? It can’t be considered vain because it’s me but it’s not… fuck. Next up, the psych ward. I break it down for myself – the woman I’ve become is hot. Done. I’m not about to start down the existential road of self-doubt. My breasts are large. I finally touch them and they’re slightly heavy but soft. I heft them, massaging them as I do. It feels really nice but not crazy like the nipples when they’re played with. Nipples that I don’t dare touch right now. I’m not thin. I look strong. Almost like a girl raised on a farm. A sexy farm girl. I grin at the thought and the woman grins back at me impishly. Now her eyes DO sparkle. My breath catches in my throat at the image. I don’t have a six pack but it doesn’t look like I have an ounce of fat on my body so my muscles show. I look like a larger version of an Olympic volleyball lady. Don’t judge me – I like women’s volleyball for the skill. Seriously. But, that same toned look with more… woman. My hips flare out with my ass showing slightly escort avcılar at the side. My thighs are strong and thick – like I do a lot of walking or running or something with my legs. The top insides of the thighs are slick from my pussy. I almost touch myself right then but I hold back. I have calf muscles and when I turn to look, I admire both them and my ass. The space between a lady’s thighs and ass is one of my favorites and this wom… I… have it. I bend over, grabbing the wall and look behind me, seeing the way my pussy looks between my thighs. Seeing the woman look back with this incredibly sexy, serious look on her face. I want. Jesus, I want it. Dammit! Pictures! I’m apparently a camera whore now. I take so many pictures and videos of myself – including a duck lips one (on purpose!) and ones of me on the bed, doggy-style. Every kind of sexy picture I can imagine. All without touching my pussy or nipples. I know what will happen when I do that. I know what that’ll start. I kill the battery with how many pictures I take but not before looking through a few of them. The small bit of worry I had vanishes – they’re all pictures of the woman I saw in the mirror. Logically, I could see how a crazy person could still imagine the pictures being fake but, seriously, that’s a lot of brain power needed to “see” the women in different positions like that. And, in the end, if I’m imagining it and it feels this good then they can lock me up and I won’t really care. It feels real to ME. The mirror gets pushed to the end of the bed and I sit at the edge facing it. My heart is beating so fast now. I can feel the wetness between my legs sticking slightly as I open my thighs. My pussy lips are a light brown but I can see the faint hint of pinkness inside. My upper body is actually rocking slightly with each heartbeat. I start slow – touching the bit of wetness on the thigh next to my cunt and then bringing my finger to my nose, breathing in deeply. I moan and close my eyes from the scent. My fingers automatically go to my mouth, in deep to the back of my tongue and then out as I clean myself off. It’s different with just the woman’s taste and no cum but still intensely erotic. Slightly funny to me that I have no issue tasting myself as a woman but refuse to taste my own cum as a man. I blush when my brain helpfully offers up memories of me cleaning cum off of my fingers the other night. Finally, I bring my fingers down to my pussy. It’s electric – sensitive where I touch the lips but it goes straight to the pit of my stomach. The lips stick for a moment as I spread them apart. My ass and hips wriggle at the feeling, nearly jerking. I’m pink and wet inside. Shiny. The feeling of my fingernails against my own pussy lips and the pressure against the engorged labia makes me twist and wriggle even more, biting my lower lip and breathing out a husky sigh. My left hand goes to my left tit, massaging and squeezing and rubbing. I can’t stop it any more. My middle finger goes into my pussy. So fucking wet and tight. Holy Jesus Fucking Christ. My head slams back, mouth open as I push in, feeling the sharpness of my nail dragging against the skin. It’s … I moan and mewl and push deep into myself, pinching my fat nipple at the same time. The sensations slam into my lower stomach and I collapse down onto the bed. I’m incredibly wet. Another finger joins the first and I have to push a bit to make it in. My hips jerk at the push and now they’re rocking against the fingers, trying to fuck them. As if I didn’t have control over them. My body is eager and needy for the feeling of … I brush something in the middle top of my pussy with my fingernail and I can’t help but gasp at it. Some slightly rigid bumpy piece inside my cunt. I find it again but my nails keep scratching before my fingers do. I’ve never had long nails but the woman does so I’m not used to it. Instead, I pull out and press the length of my fingers against my pussy and clit, the fingers partially inside. And then, rubbing down against the clit, I push into myself and out again. My whole body is on fire from the feelings. I don’t even know what I’m doing with my hand on my breast any more except that it’s adding to everything else. My breathing is getting ragged. I can’t think any more and my eyes are closed. I’m just one live wire with the terminal deep in my gut, pushing harder and harder until I feel like it should hurt. It … It should… there… what… I scream when I orgasm. Loudly. Shrieking wordlessly. I feel liquid gushing out of my pussy – hot and wet but my hand flies out to grab the bed sheets to futilely hold on as I jerk and buck against the orgasm, this hard wave from the pit of my stomach combined with this sharp feeling coming from my pussy… the clit? Like a string of firecrackers going off. My thighs are soaking wet and my scent fills the room strongly. I thrash against the sheets, drumming my feet. I’ve never in my life experienced an orgasm this hard. I can’t … I pass out from it. Briefly. Seconds later my eyes snap open and I’m still shaking from it. I touch my chest, suddenly horrified that I dreamed the whole thing but, no, I still have tits. Soft, large and the … that was a mistake. Another orgasm, smaller than the first but still hard, hits me and I’m gasping and rolling onto my side, rubbing my legs together over and over, hugging my chest and shaking from it. Pulling my knees to my chest into a tight little ball. “F…fuu…f… fuuu… fuck! Th… this is… this … fuck!” I can’t even fucking talk. My whole body is lighting up from the feeling of it. Incredible. Rubbing my legs together presses and rubs my pussy lips. I can feel how wet I am. My thighs are soaked. Oh. There’s a wet spot in the bed, right under me. It takes several minutes for my body to stop shaking. My muscles actually hurt from it; I feel like I’ve done 500 sit-ups all at once. The wet spot is huge. Did I squirt? Is that what this is? I’ve heard about it but I’ve never been with a woman that’s squirted. Should I be embarrassed? Is it normal? Wait, what the fuck is normal, anyway? I’m a fucking guy that turned into a woman. I laugh again. Jesus. This stuff… the wet spot on the bed and my thighs – it’s not thick like the stuff in my pussy – it’s more like a liquid. There’s a ton of it. Getting cold quickly so I move over a bit. And then taste myself with the hand that was buried in my pussy. And then more. And more. Always pushing my fingers in like… oh, shit. Yes, like I’m giving a blow job. That thought doesn’t make me stop or make me less turned on in any way. The whole room smells heavily of sex. Saturated in it. From my cum – squirting all over the bed and my body. My chest is still heaving from escort bahcesehir the orgasm and I want more. I have no idea how women ever leave their beds. Granted, it probably gets old after a while and I’m just enjoying all of these new sensations but they’re completely overwhelming. I don’t have to wait to get hard again. I know that if I just start again, I’ll have another orgasm. Simple as that. And, Jesus, I want it. So, I do. Over and over. I learn a little bit about my body and what feels good and where but I think I have a lot to learn. I don’t always squirt – it seems to be a specific thing and mostly when I’m playing with my clit and fingering myself at the same time. It’s not something I can magically make happen but it does happen some times. By the time I’m done, two hours have passed since I’ve come home and my pussy lips are sore from all the rubbing. The bed is entirely soaked in my cum and I want to just roll around in it. If I could move, anyway. I’m so exhausted from the orgasms that I decide to find a non-wet spot and curl up under the covers. Naked. Sated. Extraordinarily happy. I roll around under the blankets, rubbing my legs against each other and my hands along my smooth body. Everything just feels so sensitive and alive and wonderful. I hadn’t realized I fell asleep until I suddenly wake up. Frantic. Sitting up in bed, suddenly terrified that it’s all gone again. But, no, my breasts hang against my chest, heavy enough to notice and I can feel my pussy lips on the bed sheet. I wriggle against them and their soreness is mostly gone. I stretch and growl contentedly, legs out and arms up, feeling the way my tits move against my chest as I do. I’m feeling… hmmm… saucy? Sexy? Self-confident? Something is different from before. I want to prowl around and … and what? Go out? In what clothes? To do what? Find a woman or…? All I have here are my fingers. I could go out and buy a dildo or something and look ridiculous in my clothes (old, baggier clothes?) but that doesn’t sound appealing. Oh. I got it. Standing, I find some old pants that are short (so, I am taller!) but loose enough to not be a problem – even if my ass still stretches it. An old shirt works well enough but it takes me several minutes to stop staring at myself in the mirror. Staring at the beautiful woman in the mirror with large tits pressed against a tight shirt, nipples pressing hard against the fabric. I can feel the loosening inside my cunt and the liquid gathering again as I get turned on. I’m still not used to seeing the hot woman in the mirror as being “me” – I just see this hot lady wearing tight men’s clothing. And, I have to admit, I have a slight thing about seeing women in guy’s clothes. How backwards is that? A man, turned into a woman, having a kink for seeing a woman in men’s clothing? I grin and it’s impish and definitely cute. To the computer! I have a small laptop I use for Internet and movies and whatnot. Track pad turned off and small mouse hooked up to it because I can’t stand working a track pad. That turns out to be advantageous because I also suck at fingernails. And the keyboard feels strange with my fingers now – everything is ever so slightly off. The fingernails slide off of the keys so it takes me a bit to get going. Craigslist. Specifically the casual encounters section. Through my experiences on the dating side of the website, I’ve found it to be hit and miss but more miss than hit. Quite a lot of people I wouldn’t consider attractive. I have, however, browsed w4m and sometimes w4w to look at pictures and read a few profiles. I’ve tried NSA w4m but was hit with so many fake responses that I quickly gave up. Not worth the effort. The few that were real were very much not for me for different reasons. But, NSA w4w had quite a few where the ad seemed real and the women were very attractive. So, why not? Contrary to how I look, I still love pussy. The image of me (strangely, pictured as a man still) going down on a woman makes my insides churn and the pressure build. I ache slightly inside at the thought of sex. Hot lady sex. Casual encounters. Click! m4w, w4m, m4m, w4w, mw4mw, mw4m, mw4w… the list just goes on and on and on. w4w… click! I can usually spot the fake ads so I skip those. Ads with pictures first, naturally. I back out of a couple before finding a nice headless photo of a girl with a hot body. Mmmmmm… yeah. Definitely still into women. My right hand goes down to my clit while I read her profile and glance at her picture. I’m getting pretty good at the whole clit thing. Touching it bare is no good. Way, way too sensitive. But, rubbing the skin around it works really well. I bring my fingers to my mouth, sucking on them slowly to make them wet and then down and into my pants to play. I moan and wriggle against the feeling but I try to play lightly in order to focus on what I’m doing. It’s just… it’s just really hard to do. With my fingers there and imagining another woman’s touch on me, sucking on my nipples – god, what would that feel like? Having someone else sucking on my tits? Going to my hands and knees to lift her hips, tasting her pussy and feeling my own wetness. Feeling hands on my hips and a dick… wait. No, that’s not me. I’m superimposing myself as a man into the scene again. Mentally seeing a woman on her hands and knees and seeing myself taking her from behind. But I’m the woman, too. And the man… he’s faceless, generic. It’s not actually me. No, but I’m going down on the woman. Not thinking of the man pressing his thick cock against my wet cunt. My breath is ragged as the image hits me. “Haaah… haaaah…. haaaaahnnnn…” I’m squeezing my thighs against my hand as I push and rub against my clit. The other woman is gone. All I’m seeing is the lady (me) on her hands and knees, head down, ass up while the man presses into her (me). Hands around her (my) ass, plump but strong with muscle underneath. Feeling those hands on my hips and the dick pressing into me – is it like my fingers? What would it be like? To feel it but not see it? To have my head buried in the bed while my cunt is filled with a hard dick? I’ve never fucked a woman without seeing her. Whether she’s on her back, knees, stomach or on top, I can always see her. What would it be like to be the one on my stomach, feeling the pounding and the hands but not seeing it. Not being in control of anything. Just at the mercy of the man fucking me hard. Oh god. Oh god. Yes. Yesssss… Fucking yes! The orgasm is sharp and hard, smaller than the others but I still squirt a little, soaking the pants that are down around my thighs. I only just now realize I masturbated to the thought of a guy fucking me from behind. A growl rises from my throat. Not in anger. beylikdüzü escort In need. The thought of being mounted like a bitch. I’ve done that mentally to other women – sometimes picturing them changing under me as I fuck them doggy-style. Mentally thinking of it like me mounting a she-wolf. Part of the whole werewolf fetish. Not often but sometimes I feel the desire to do it. To picture fur sprouting from their back and all of that. Usually when I’m close to an orgasm but it’s just not happening and I need to cum. Now I’m that wolf. Now I’m the one on my hands and knees. The ache is hard and deep. I can smell my wetness so strongly. I want it. Another growl, rumbling in my throat and my fingernails dig into the flesh of my thigh. Hard. It feels good. The pain mixes with the orgasm, sending different signals that make me twitch slightly. In a good way. Back. Clicking back. I hesitate over m4w. Thinking about it. Yes. I’m a woman. I don’t have to touch his dick. He’s just a dildo. Something to fuck me. I can control the situation and restrict what he does. I don’t need to suck his dick. But, why not throw a woman into the mix? I’d be more comfortable. I could start with her and then when I’m feeling ready, bring the guy into it. Or, not. I could tell him to sit it out and just have fun with the lady. I’m feeling arrogant. Confident. Ready for a fight for some reason. Fuck browsing and responding. Let them come to me. I find my camera and pop the SD card into my laptop. And then I masturbate more as I look through all the pictures. All right. So. I’m possibly egotistical saying this but I’m fucking hot. I pick two pictures, crop them to hide my face and then work up a simple ad. Looking for a guy or gal, 18 to 30, in really good shape, no picture, no response, the guy needs to have an 8+ inch dick (just in case I decide to go for it, why not something big?), need it to happen tonight and the guy needs to be straight. Huh. Why did I add that second part? Possibly because I still feel weird about the whole guy thing? I’m a woman. Right now. Still… I can’t shake it. Although my finger hovers over the backspace key for a decent amount of time, I decide to leave it in. Submit. Done. Now to wait. I’ll clean up a bit and go from there. I shower and masturbate more. I can’t help it. Soapy boobies. Fabulous large soapy boobies. And running soapy hands along my ass feels amazing. I’m extremely soft and smooth and wonderful. Basically everything feels incredible and sensitive. I have to rush out when the very last bit of hot water vanishes. The hair is kind of a pain in the ass to dry. Even rubbing it with the towel over and over doesn’t dry it all. Is it normal for some hair to come out? Not a lot but a few strands here and there. Has to be normal, yeah? Some in the bath tub, too. I have fifty emails waiting for me. Fifty. In less than an hour. Holy shit. I sit, feeling my thick, wet hair on my naked shoulders. Ah. I see. Most guys are assholes. And quite a few of them are just single guys trying to get a piece. Fucking men. I tell off a few before another email rolls in telling me my ad has been flagged. Fuckers. It’s okay – I have a few decent sounding ones that I can answer. A little bit of back and forth with them to make sure they’re real. I’ve got three possibilities that make my initial naive cut and now I just need to tell them to come over one at a time. I’m nervous. My palms are sweating. I can do this. I can totally do this. How? Shit. I already told the first couple to come over. How am I going to do it? Shit shit. My mind is completely blank and unhelpful. I try to come up with a strategy but nothing is working. My heart nearly stops when the doorbell rings. I can’t do it. I can’t. Why the hell did I give these people my address? What in the world was I thinking? Oh Jesus. The doorbell rings again and I almost hide. Almost. But, I’m not that type of guy. Girl. Guy. Still a guy. Kind of. What if I sound like a man? Aw crap. I never listened to any of the videos I took of myself. Oh sweet Jesus. I have to force myself to open the door. Immediately, I see that they lied about their weight. Both of them. The man more so than the lady. And he’s older. The lady is still attractive but my kneejerk reaction is ‘no’ and not just because I’m nervous as fuck. The guy is all big smiles as he puts out his hand. “Hi!” I look at it. His hand. His developing beer gut that certainly wasn’t in the photo. The lady’s cleavage. The beer gut. “No. And please use up-to-date pictures for the next woman.” I close the door while the guy sputters. His woman yells out a loud “FUCK YOU, BITCH!” before they stomp off. I peek through the curtains to make sure they don’t do anything stupid. And so it goes. The next one is the same but they’re both way older and they look high. The third actually makes it in my house because they look like their pictures. When the man immediately goes for a kiss and a grab without much of an introduction, my reaction is interesting. I growl, step back and tell him to back the fuck up. Literally, the words just come out of my mouth: “Back the fuck up.” In an angry tone. I feel a cold, angry sweat and the small hairs on the back of my neck are up. The guy does as he’s told and his eyes are wide. The lady is watching from the side as if she doesn’t know what to make of it. I’m angry. Ever have one of those days where you didn’t get enough sleep or something is just off and so your logical brain is sitting there processing but everything is seen through a filter of anger? Little things that normally wouldn’t bother you start to irritate and you snap at people? It’s starting to feel like that. I’m almost a third party to my anger – watching from the side as I react to the situation. Two people have lied to me already. These two actually look like their photos but I think I made a mistake with the guy. He’s a jock type and now THAT is pissing me off. I was never friends with jocks. “Strip.” I growl. I’m not smiling. I’m pretty pissed. “Let me see it. I’ve had two people stop by before you two and they lied about stuff. Here you are and, failed groping aside, you’re as advertised. Now prove the other part. Strip and get hard.” I cross my arms on my chest, feeling the way the bottom of my tits press on me. I don’t care. The man cares. He stares and he’s hungry for me. Right now I’d welcome it. I want to fight. That odd confidence and sauciness is back and I would fight back. “Come on, baby…” He starts. I hold up a hand. “I’m not your baby. Strip or get the fuck out.” Now I’m tapping my foot and watching. He does. Uncut, small. That’s okay. I’m cir… I was circumcised. Still am circumcised? But I’m small unless I’m excited. I know how it goes. Grow-er rather than a show-er. He looks down and starts playing with himself. What a funny thing to watch. I can’t even say why it’s funny. And not in a humorous way but in the sense that I don’t like this man and I’m not even sure why I haven’t kicked him to the curb yet.

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