A Gift from a God

But I had changed in other ways. In the shop I had had the suspicion that I had lost weight, and even that I was taller, but had passed this feeling off to high heels, which I didn't wear often and always made me feel tall. Standing barefoot in my flat, there was no denying the extra height. My eyes were now level with where the top of my head used to be. And I had certainly lost weight too, my belly flat and toned for the first time in years.

And then there was my cock, hanging limply for the moment, but by its shrivelled length and girth it promised to be far larger than I remembered. What I remembered was an average-sized cock that had been swallowed easily by Tracy, and to be honest I would have been happy for it to be no bigger.

My thoughts of Tracy's kneeling worship woke the slumbering giant, and like a great jungle serpent it raised its head and peered around. I have seen pictures of men with bigger cocks, but mine is quite big enough to make most men feel inadequate. Tracy was in for a shock...

Free at last and very obviously proud of itself, it demanded to be touched. I wrapped my hand around it and squeezed gently. Such pleasure in that grip! - but it wasn't satisfied, not until I started stroking the great shaft. It was fascinating to watch myself do this in the mirror, a strange beautiful creature both man and woman. How wonderful to be that creature!

How many times I had wished for a cock, and now I had an amazing one, long, thick, stiff, almost reaching my new large breasts. The man in the bus had wanted to fuck my breasts, and I wondered what it would be like to give, to receive...

Thinking of poor Tracy choking on the flood of my cum earlier, I spread towels on the bed before working myself into an awkward hunched-up sitting position that allowed me to squeeze my breasts around the shaft of my cock. I experimented with some more positions until I found one that let me thrust a short distance with my hips, the head of my cock appearing and disappearing through the channel between the breasts I crushed together.

It was such an absurd thing to do, but also exhilarating, the whole idea of me fucking my own breasts, the astonishing sensation of the huge cock thrusting up between them, so hard, so smooth, the feel of those warm cushions swallowing my cock. As I built swiftly towards my second climax of the day, the temptation grew to take it one step further and try to get the head into my mouth. I thrust harder until my tongue was able to lick the tip, but I wanted more. I shifted into a different position and strained against screaming muscles, finally able to rest the soft head between my lips.

Tip held snugly between lips that waited for the fountain to start, I stroked with both hands, building the tension steadily. I only wished I had more hands to pinch my nipples and rub my clit. Maybe next time I could get Tracy to lick my clit and play with my breasts while I sucked and stroked my own cock. And with that image clear in my head, I stroked faster and faster, until my body clenched with painful intensity and it was all I could do to keep my lips in position.

With a surge that nearly tore the cock from my hands, a great jet of cum shot out into my mouth. I tried to swallow, but a second jet flooded my mouth and I had to let it go. As I coughed out of a mouth full of my own cum, yet more rained down across my face and breasts as my cock continued its wild dance of victory.

*

Despite it being Friday, I managed to book a slot at the salon at lunchtime. Vicki, the woman who does my hair, is an attractive woman in her mid-thirties, with beautifully styled curls of blonde and brown. She has a hairdresser's skill with endless chatter about weather, soaps and holidays.

In between the chatter as she cut my hair, I caught flashes of thought from her, mostly curiosity about my breasts. I had sensed others too on my walk to the salon, but it seemed that my telepathy was limited to people thinking sexually about me. (It is difficult to convey just how intrusive and distracting it is to have other people's fantasies of you cascading through your thoughts - and often deeply disturbing too! Strangers, colleagues, friends, sometimes even family, giving you a part in their secret porn movie, anything from tender missionary to full-on non-con gang rape. And sometimes they'll be doing it even while they're talking to you about something quite mundane.)

'We're off to Majorca this year,' Vicki said, glancing at me in the mirror, her fingers running through my hair on autopilot, meanwhile imagining me topless on the beach, my breasts distorted to enormous proportions.

I know it's wrong of me to judge people by their fantasies - God knows mine can get quite depraved - but I never asked to be privy to them. Rather than sit there passively, I decided to put my fantasies into her thoughts. But this time I would try to be more subtle - after all, she was wielding sharp scissors close to my scalp...

Studying myself in the mirror, I tried to imagine myself topless in the chair, and gently pushed this image back at her. Immediately she stopped talking and flinched away from me in surprise. I gave her a quizzical look in the mirror, and she laughed, shaking her head. 'Sorry,' she said, and returned her attention to my hair, a flush of embarrassment spreading across her cheeks.

Again I pictured myself topless, and trying to be even more gentle I pushed against her thoughts. The clicking of her scissors slowed, her movements sluggish, as if she were having difficulty concentrating. Her arousal was unmistakable. In my thoughts I had her standing behind me, reaching down around my shoulders to cup my bare breasts in her hands. I could almost feel her thumbs and fingers tease my hard, sensitive nipples. Her scissors stopped entirely in their tracks as she struggled to banish the fantasy that snared her, but her mind was too busy filling in details that enriched the illusion. Not content with teasing my nipples, she pinched them hard, making me whimper for real.

She frowned intently as she gazed into the infinite distance, her hands still poised above my head as if frozen in position. I wanted her touching me with them, and not just in her thoughts. Again I focussed on my image of her reaching down to cup my breasts. I let her feel their weight, their smooth skin. I let her see the look of ecstasy on my face as she caressed my nipples.

'Touch me!' I begged in our shared fantasy, and at last it was too much for her. With an audible groan, she dropped the scissors to the floor and hugged me from behind, her hands mauling my breasts through layers of clothing. The surge of relief we shared was almost enough to bring us both to orgasm, and for a great few seconds we were both lost in the pleasure, before:

'Oh God!' she whispered in a panic. 'I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over me!'

I just smiled at her. 'Don't worry. You can do that again any time you like...'

*

My manipulation of Vicki had me in awe of my sexual power - though also a little guilty about the way I'd used it. For the rest of my styling session, Vicki had been so jittery I hadn't dared to do anything else to her, though her thoughts circled obsessively around my breasts. As I stood up to leave, I took her hand and pressed it to the hard bulge in my crotch, and her eyes widened with shock, but I sensed her curiosity as she watched me walk away. Maybe next time it won't be my breasts that she grabs.

Despite having come twice already that day, I wanted more - and there were still hours to go before meeting Tracy again. More urgently, I was starving. I'd wolfed down a quick snack before heading out to the salon, but that had only taken the edge off, and now the edge of hunger was sharper than ever. All the changes my body was going through, and perhaps also my almost constant arousal, were clearly burning up my reserves.

I crossed the road to my local Starbucks and was soon sitting by the window munching a sandwich and sipping a latte. The place was noisy, crowded, but for once no one was paying any attention to me and I was able to relax with my own thoughts. After devouring a second sandwich, and a large slice of chocolate cake, I started feeling more balanced again, and curious about my strange telepathy.

Surrounded by people, I couldn't catch any of their thoughts, no matter how I concentrated, and they seemed equally oblivious to my attempts to push my thoughts into their heads. One of the baristas, a geeky boy about my age, came over to collect my empty plates, and suddenly I could sense his awareness of my breasts. He wondered what they looked like, whether they were real, how heavy they were. As he wandered away again, I stayed in his thoughts, feeding him visions of his mouth descending about an areola, his tongue flicking a nipple hard with my desire for him, the other nipple teased by his fingers.

I could sense nothing of who he was, nothing about anything except this fantasy we were building together. The tension of his arousal was a palpable thing. The scene shifted and I was on my back, my legs spread wide, his tongue circling my clit, two fingers exploring inside my pussy... I was getting used to hearing 'clit' and 'pussy' and so many other words, so many more offensive words, for my anatomy. After a while you get used to it, but it can be depressing to see and hear people always reducing you to body parts.

Back in the real world, my barista boy had locked himself in a toilet somewhere and was masturbating furiously. In his fantasy I was squirting great fountains and begging him to fuck me - until I decided to have some fun of my own. The clit he was licking and sucking so joyfully transformed gradually into a cock that he was licking and sucking. I could feel his confusion, but such was his arousal, so close to climax, that he didn't fight it.

Like Pinocchio's nose, the cock grew longer and longer, to match my real one, and I - standing now with him on his knees - grabbed his head to hold him still as I drove deeper and deeper into his mouth with every thrust, deep into his beautifully tight throat, impossibly deep, until his nose was banging into my stomach. The two fingers in my pussy had become three, then four, then his whole hand. He fucked me with his fist, his whole arm punching into me again and again, while swallowing my entire length.

We came together, my cock exploding with cum that poured into his belly. Then I opened my eyes to discover several people watching me with alarm, worried perhaps that I was having an epileptic fit or something. More worrying for me was that my cock was still twitching in my shorts, cum soaking out into the crotch of my leggings - fortunately hidden by my top. Acutely embarrassed, I left the café quickly.

*

I come like a racehorse. It is both blessing and curse. It feels amazing - such power and virility. It looks amazing - great streams of white cum arcing through the air. But, dear God, what a fucking mess. And to do it in my knickers... ick.

I hurried home and headed straight for the shower, cleaning myself thoroughly from the waist down. Two hours previously I had had to shower myself because I was covered in cum from the waist up, which had been quite funny in a kinky way. This, however, was just... ick. I'm just grateful it didn't happen in the salon.

I suppose it's poetic justice, my punishment for manipulating that barista into my own perverse fantasy of anatomically impossible sex. But damn that had felt good.

Fortunately I had bought several bra-and-knickers sets that morning. I opted for hot pink underwear, some thick hold-ups that made my legs look black, my most daring high-heeled platform stilettos, and a black-and-white print dress. Also my new leather coat, bought in Turkey at Christmas, that had fit me perfectly then but had no chance now of closing round my enlarged breasts, but I needed some protection from the Scottish winter.

As I applied make-up, I reflected on the way I had spent the day having sex, thinking about having sex, and having sex by thinking about having sex. In the space of less than a day, I had gone from repressed virgin to amoral slut. I had absolutely no interest in forming a long-term loving relationship with anyone, even Tracy, although I was hoping we could be friends somehow - with lots and lots of benefits, of course.

I twirled in front of the mirror. I looked like a hot girl with sex on her mind. I was a hot girl with sex on her mind - or an ex-girl, anyway. I lifted my dress to examine the pink knickers and the hard bulge of my cock. I still hadn't had a chance to use it as nature intended, but I was looking forward to burying it deep in Tracy's vagina. I laughed at that word. 'Pussy,' I said aloud, looking at my reflection, seeking to embrace my new slut identity. 'I want pussy.'

Of course, I had my own pussy too that was in desperate need of some attention, but first I needed to find a man who wasn't terrified of the huge cock swinging next to it.

*

I knew it was a setup the moment I entered the office. 'Why don't you come up?' Tracy had said when I phoned. 'Everyone has gone home. We'll have the place to ourselves.' But there was someone else there, someone watching me, undressing me with his eyes - it was definitely a man. Watching me through a door that was open just a crack.

Tracy hugged me and kissed me deeply, her tongue penetrating my mouth, but in her thoughts was the man watching us kiss. She was enjoying herself with me, but also performing for him. Her lover. Our boss. Tom. In his office spying on us, his cock already in his hand.

I broke off the kiss. 'Come with me,' I said, and led Tracy across the office and into the conference room, closing the door behind us but leaving it just enough open for the tom to peep through, if he dared. If Tom wanted to watch us, he would have to come out of his office and be the one taking the risk of getting caught with his pants down by random security patrols.

In the darkness of the conference room, lit only by the crack of light through the door and the lights from the building across the road, we kissed again. I loved the feel of her lips so soft yet urgent, and the warm, lithe shape of her body pressing against mine. In her thoughts was the memory of this morning, her mouth wrapped about my cock, and now her hands went in search of it again - but I stopped her.

'Get undressed,' I said. 'I want to see you naked.'

'Okay,' she said, agreeing quickly, thinking of her lover watching her strip for me. I could sense him outside, watching us again, wanting me to undress too, but I denied him. We were spectators together as Tracy removed dress, and shoes, her black lacy bra, finally even her matching thong. The dim lighting made her almost a silhouette, a shadow, but there was just enough definition for us to admire the perfection of her figure.

Again we kissed, her hands immediately reaching for my crotch, but I turned her around and bent her over the table. She sighed with pleasure. 'Oh yes,' she said, wiggling her ass about. 'Fuck me with that bad boy.'

Tom was confused. He was picturing me in his mind quite clearly as a woman. Tracy hadn't told him everything. 'Patience,' I said to her, and dropped to my knees between her legs. The smell of her arousal was intoxicating, and she was so wet her lips glistened. I pressed my mouth to her thighs and kissed them gently, and teased my way higher, and closer, to her sweet, gorgeous pussy. I licked slowly between the inner and outer labia, and swirled around her clit without touching it, then retreated.

'You're torturing me!' she complained.

'Do you really want me to fuck you?' I asked.

'Yes!'

'I'm not wearing a condom.'

'I want your cum in me.'

'Okay,' I said, and kissed her clit, sucking gently. Standing, I pulled my knickers down without removing any other clothing. With Tracy bent over the table where she was, Tom had a clear view of us from the side, and his shocked disbelief as he saw my cock rise to attention was delicious. I placed the soft head between the folds of Tracy's entrance, and thrust inside before she could react to its unexpected size.

'Fuck!' she screamed as her vagina was stretched like never before - and that was only the beginning. I pulled out a little and thrust again, working deeper. Tracy's thoughts were incoherent. I sensed only astonishment, not denial. Again I thrust, and despite the pain of it, she exulted in being filled by me.

I started fucking her slowly, loving the amazing tightness of her vagina about me, so hot and wet. With each thrust she cried out, swearing each time I worked deeper into her, until I bumped against her cervix and she climaxed without warning, convulsing helplessly, the walls of her vagina clenching tight about my cock that ached to drive deeper still.

Tom too was close to orgasm, thrilled to see Tracy being stuffed by such an enormous cock, and thrilled also that that cock was attached to a woman. I stepped into his thoughts and twisted them until it was him bent over the table getting his ass stretched while Tracy spied through the door. He climaxed with an audible cry and fell to his knees disorientated, convulsing as his cock spurted cum into the air.

I slipped my great length out of Tracy, who stayed in position panting for breath, and went to open the door. 'Why don't you come in,' I said.

Tom looked up at me, my cock jutting hard and thick between us. His own cock was still erect, and was certainly bigger than average, but nothing compared to mine. He stared at mine, almost hypnotised, and I made him imagine taking it into his mouth, sucking on it, licking along its length, tasting Tracy on it - and although he had just come, under this bombardment of images the fire of his lust woke again.

I left him kneeling in the doorway and returned to Tracy, and she whimpered as I thrust once more into her depths. It was my turn to come. I picked up speed, pounding into her as fast as I could, but Tracy beat me to it, climaxing a second time, then a third, before descending into a haze of unthinking pleasure.

'Fuck!' I screamed as my own climax tore through me at last, Tracy crying out in unison as she was stretched still further and the first powerful jet of cum splashed against the entrance to her womb. I gripped her tight through my convulsions, streams of cum flooding into her and being squeezed out again around my shaft.

Tom was standing in the doorway, stroking his erect cock. 'Come here,' I ordered.

He hesitated only for a moment. Without being prompted, he knelt beside us and started licking the cum from Tracy's legs and even from the shaft of my cock, most of which was still embedded in Tracy. Slowly I pulled out of her, giving her lover time to lick us clean as more and more cum escaped - and I really can't complain about his enthusiasm for the job.

My boss the cum slut...

I had finally found a man who wasn't terrified of my cock. Okay, he was Tracy's man, technically, but I was willing to share. I bent down to kiss him briefly. 'It's my turn now,' I said. 'Fuck me with that hard cock of yours. Fill me with your cum.'

'Yes, Ma'am,' he said, and no sooner had I bent over the table next to Tracy, who stared dreamily into my eyes, than his cock was between my thighs searching for my pussy and the opening to my vagina. Where no man had gone before - I must confess to being suddenly nervous. I had been having sex all day, it seemed, but suddenly I felt like a virgin.

'Be gentle,' I said, but I was so wet he thrust deep into me in one smooth movement, and to my surprise there was no pain, no sharp tearing of a hymen... (I have since worked out that I do have a hymen. It's a little frayed around the edges, but it's still unbroken. Does that mean I'm still technically a virgin?)