Trying Something New

"I was just saying what I thought you wanted to hear." He regretted the words as soon as they tumbled out of his mouth.

Christine shot him a withering look. "Well, I guess I thought you were better than that. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll retire early tonight." She swept from the room, taking the rest of the bottle of wine with her.

"So does this mean we're not having..." He left the rest of the question hang in the air.

It didn't hang there long. "Not tonight!" she yelled. "I'm no longer in the mood."

He almost yelled after her that this wouldn't be any different than any other night. Almost.

Both tossed and turned restlessly in bed. Both found their thoughts returning to the new neighbors and the tempting possibilities there. One kept trying to put it out of her mind. When Christine bodyhopped, she loved to become the other person as much as possible. To talk like they talked, to act like they acted, and fuck like they fucked. To take on that role of a mother and then...it was out of the question. Even if the son was the sexiest thing she'd seen in some time.

Mark, on the other hand, wasn't trying to convince himself not to. He was thinking of a way to push them both into uncharted waters without ending their marriage. And he had an idea.

The next morning, Christine woke up first. She looked over at her snoring husband for half a minute, decided she still loved him, and lightly kissed his cheek. That was as far as she'd go in way of an apology right that second. He stirred and reached for her, but she backed away and got out of bed. As she put on her light pink robe, she decided she'd also go as far as to make sure Peter's eggs weren't burnt this morning.

The second Peter heard his wife's footsteps on the stairs, his eyes popped open. He looked at his alarm clock. He had time. He quietly got out of bed and cracked open a bedroom window. He closed his eyes and concentrated. It had been awhile since he took on an incorporeal form. It took him longer than usual, but that was like everything else he did at his age. Finally, after several seconds, his body seemed to evaporate and become a transparent mist. He floated out the window, and swirled across the street towards their new neighbors' house. He shot through the front door keyhole and began gliding room to room. In an upstairs bedroom, he came upon Mark, still asleep in bed with his mouth slightly open. The mist rushed towards Mark's mouth, and a second later, Mark's body twitched. He coughed once, then his eyes flew open and he sat up.

It felt so good to be in a young body again. Peter studied the room through Mark's eyes. He saw a box marked clothes. He rushed to open it. He found a new shirt, but no pants. He saw yesterday's on the floor, and quickly put them on. He raced downstairs and was headed towards the door, when a familiar voice called, "Mark?"

Peter halted in his tracks, and turned Mark's head towards the sound. It was the very cute neighbor, Sara. Or more appropriately at the moment, Mom. "Yeah, Mom?"

She looked at him with cheerful curiosity. "I thought you'd probably sleep til noon. What got you up so early?"

Peter tried to keep from staring directly at Sara's chest, but it was difficult. Her hair still looked bedraggled, but it didn't take away from her sex appeal at all. He realized too late that he was getting an erection and turned away from her. "I don't know. Just felt like an early breakfast."

"So grab some cereal and pull up a chair next to your mom."

"I, uh, felt like eggs this morning," Mark said with a hand on the door.

"We don't have any eggs yet. I haven't gotten a chance to go to the store."

Mark smiled. "I know. I was going to go borrow some from our new neighbors."

Sara frowned. "Okay, tell them I said hello."

"Most definitely," Mark agreed as he slid out the door.

Christine had just dropped the second egg in the sizzling pan when the doorbell rang. She was in a robe, but was in no state to be opening the front door. She thought about yelling for her husband, but by the time he put clothes on and stumbled downstairs, whoever it was would be long gone. She sighed and headed towards the door. She wondered who it could be? Were they expecting a package? It still seemed too early for that.

She made sure the robe was tight around her, and opened the door. There stood the new neighbor boy, wearing yesterday's jeans and a green shirt with a band's name she'd never heard of. He was smiling politely at her, but didn't say anything, so she took the initiative. "Yes, Mark was it?" As if she didn't know and hadn't thought about running her tongue up and down his body. Can I help you?"

"Oh, uh. Sorry for coming over so early, ma'am. I hope I didn't wake you."

"No, no. I was making breakfast. Oh shoot, I've got to get back to my eggs. Come in, come in."

"Thanks," he said as he followed her inside and shut the door. "That's actually why I'm here. To see if I could borrow some eggs."

Christine was glad it was something simple. "Of course. Yes, yes. Help yourself to as many as you need in the fridge," she said as she pointed to the refrigerator on her right.

The kitchen had an island in the middle for prepping food, storage, and trash. Mark could have gone around the island on the right, directly to the fridge. But instead, he went to the left, which put him in very close proximity to Christine.

She didn't notice this until he was brushing past her. He was so close she could smell his musk. He obviously hadn't showered since yesterday's move, but it wasn't altogether unpleasant.

"Excuse me," he said as he passed. He put his hand briefly on her lower back. The area where he touched radiated warmth.

As he opened the refrigerator door, she let out the breath that had gotten lodged in her throat and asked shakily, "So, all moved in?"

"Yup," he said as he began looking through the contents of the fridge.

Christine watched him closely. She couldn't see his face, but could make out his backside. She'd bet anything that he had a very tight, good looking butt. "So what brought you and your mom to our town?"

"Well, I got accepted to the local college here, which I'll be starting in the fall. And my mom got a transfer from her bank management job to a branch here, so I'll still be able to live at home and help her however she needs." He took out the egg carton and shut the door.

She looked away from his direction quickly. Had he seen her perving on him? Was he going to take the rest of the eggs? "Well, it sounds like you're a very good son. I hope that, oh shoot!" she yelped. "Not again!"

"What's wrong?" Mark asked concernedly.

Christine gave a sad chuckle as she looked at her pan. "Oh nothing. Just ruined my husband's eggs for the second day in a row."

And then she felt strong arms wrap around her waist. She felt something hard poke against her behind. Mark's hot breath tickled her ear, as he said, "I know of a way you could make it up to him."

For a moment she was too stunned to speak. Her body was responding, as it felt his strong arms around her, and a hardness that made her wet. But she knew the truth, and with a sharp intake of breath, she exclaimed, "Peter! What are you doing in the neighbor boy?"

"Why don't you turn around and find out." He loosened his grip as she spun about.

As she did, she concentrated and so she could see the face of her bodyhopping husband. It made it easier for her to yell at him that way. "Peter, what have you done? I thought we agreed that the new neighbors were off limits!"

"I just wanted to show you what you're missing darling," her husband's voice said. And then he looked down.

Christine followed his gaze, and saw that her husband had seen fit to take Mark's dick out of his pants. It was thick and long. She hadn't seen one that nice for a long time. She didn't realize it, but her breath had quickened, and one hand was reaching out to touch it. At the last second, she stopped. "We...we can't."

"Sure you can. You clearly like this body. It's right here in front of you. You can touch it all you want. Here."

A strong hand grabbed Christine's and wrapped her palm around Mark's cock. She gave it an instinctive squeeze, and got to hear Mark's voice moan appreciatively. She stroked it once, then twice. She felt him tug at the knot in her robe. It parted for him, and she felt a strong hand paw at her sagging breasts. He leaned in close, his lips almost to hers.

Then all at once he pulled back. His rigid penis withdrew from her hand. As it went, she reached out for it, but her husband was already tucking it back into Mark's jeans.

"Thanks for the eggs," Marks' voice said as he retrieved them from the counter.

"Peter! Are you going to leave me in this state?" she asked angrily.

"I'm not really in the mood," Peter with a wink and his voice. Then he shut the door.

Right when Mark stepped back inside his own house, mist leaked out of him. A few seconds later, he wondered why he was standing in their entryway, sporting an erection and holding a carton of eggs. He had a vague recollection of getting them from the neighbors, but everything else was like a dream that he could not recall.

A few minutes later, Peter came downstairs from their bedroom, fully dressed and ready to go to work.

"Here's your eggs!" Christine snapped as she pointed to a plate's white and yellow rubbery contents.

Peter ignored the eggs. He pulled his wife into an embrace, and kissed her passionately. She was still angry at him, and definitely sexually frustrated, but she kissed him back anyway.

"C'mon. That was kind of fun, right?" Peter teased. "And no one got hurt, did they?"

"Oh, someone will get hurt if you do that again."

"So you don't want to see Mark's cock again? Don't want to hold it in your hand? Don't want it inside of you?"

Christine narrowed her eyes and huffed. The problem was, that's exactly what she wanted, but she didn't want her husband to think that he'd gotten to her. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Now eat your eggs."

Peter did eat the overdone eggs. And that night, they made love in their own bodies for the first time in many weeks.

"Peter, Peter," Christine said insistently the next morning to her slumbering husband.

"Yes. What?"

"I'm determined to fix your eggs right this morning, but someone took them all yesterday. Can you go get some?"

Peter stretched and yawned, then said, "I suppose I can make a run to the store before work."

"No, just go across the street and ask for some of ours back. You took the whole carton, remember? There were still seven in there. I just need two."

"Okay, okay. Let me get dressed."

"Thank you. And be quick so we're not late for work."

Had his brain fully cleared, he might have asked why his wife didn't go ask. He also might have wondered why his wife wasn't in the kitchen when he came downstairs. The fact was, she wasn't in the house at all anymore. As soon as she left their bedroom, she hung up her bathrobe in the bathroom, and dissolved into a transparent mist. She zoomed out of the house, to the neighbor's front door, through the keyhole, and began looking for her quarry. Christine found her coming out of the shower. Perfect.

As the doorbell rang, Christine looked at her newly acquired naked and dripping wet body in the foggy mirror. "I can't answer the door like this, or I'll give him a heart attack." She wrapped a large towel around herself, and headed towards the door. She opened it and put on one of Sara's huge smiles and said to the man gaping at her, "Howdy neighbor."

Peter's eyes were all over her. He couldn't stop himself. She was covered, yes, but there was still so much flesh. Water still dripped from her hair, her legs. His mouth remembered that there was a job to do. "Eggs," he rasped.

"You need some eggs. Well come on in," she said, and gestured for him to come inside. "I wouldn't want to give any more neighbors a free show. Just imagine what would happen if this towel suddenly decided to fall off."

And then Peter watched as it did just that. The towel hit the tile floor, and there stood Sara with a very embarrassed look on her face.

"Oh my! I'm so sorry!"

She bent quickly to get it, and Peter did the same. His hand was a little quicker, and it grasped the damp fabric. But he couldn't lift it, because her foot was firmly on it. A warm, slightly wet foot. A foot connected to a very attractive, very naked woman. And she was looking at him with a seductive smile.

"Maybe I don't need a towel just yet," she purred. Then she took his hand and pressed it firmly against her supple breasts. "You don't mind, do you?"

Peter nodded dumbly. Then his mind registered the obvious. He concentrated, and saw his wife's face inhabiting the young mother. He smiled. "I see you've had a change of heart."

She pressed against him, feeling his hardness on her skin. "What can I say? I felt like being a couple decades younger this morning." And then she kissed him. She felt his hands grip her, then begin to travel over her body. Before they could get very far, she broke off the kiss and pushed him back. 'Nuh uh, mister. Now it's your turn to feel frustrated." She retrieved the egg carton from the refrigerator, being sure to put a little extra sway in her hips as she went. She gave them to Peter and said with a smile, "Why don't you take those back to the Missus."

"But, we could just..."

Sara gave him the look, and even without seeing her actual face, he knew his wife wouldn't allow him to push. He dutifully took the carton. He was backing towards the door, slowly, so as to drink in as much of Sara's body as possible, when he heard Mark yell from the adjoining hallway.

"Mom! What's going on?"

Sara quickly reached for the towel and covered herself. She turned sheepishly to Mark and said, "Oops, sorry. I dropped my towel. Very clumsy of me. I'm so sorry for flashing you both. You're welcome for the eggs Peter."

Mark turned away from the sight of his barely covered Mom. Peter retreated quickly, but held the door open for his wife to follow. Mark didn't see the mist that escaped from his mother and flew back across the street.

When Peter came back into his house, he found his wife naked, sitting on the table with her legs spread wide. Nobody got eggs that morning, and they were both late to work.

When they got home later that day, they were both very quiet for the first hour. They drank wine and gave each other nervous fleeting glances. Neither wanted to voice what they really wanted. Peter didn't because he thought his wife would still turn the idea down. And Christine didn't because she didn't want to admit how much she had come around to the idea.

Finally, Peter asked. "So, it's Friday. Shall we go out to eat?"

In way of reply, Christine opened the curtains that faced the street. They both looked towards the neighbors house. A shirtless Mark was outside mowing the lawn. "How about we order in?"

Peter nodded. "If that's what you want."

"I'm beginning to think it is."

"What should we get?"

Christine gave her husband a winning smile. "I think I'd like to try something we've never done before."

"Oh really."

"Yeah. Who knows. Maybe we'll discover something that will become our new favorite."

"I'm glad you're open to trying new things."

"As long as I get to try it with you."

"So should we, uh, do it right now?"

"Probably. Every place takes about an hour to get here."

Peter's shoulders sagged. "Oh. Right. Of course. For a second there I thought maybe we were talking about something else."

Christine tore her eyes away from the neighbor boy and walked towards her husband. She put a hand on his cheek, and gave him a passionate kiss. Then she said, "I can talk about two things at the same time, dear."

For the second time that day they made love in their own bodies while waiting for food to be delivered. That hadn't happened in quite some time.

Afterwards they poured more wine. By the time the food arrived, they had a nice buzz going. After eating, they talked about next steps, as they climbed the stairs to their bed. They fell asleep in each other's arms earlier than they'd anticipated. It had been a long week, but they were looking forward to tomorrow.

When Peter awoke that Saturday morning, a thrill went through him. He rolled over to see if his wife was awake, and saw that she was. She had been waiting for him. The expression on her face told him that she was just as excited.

"Shall we?" Peter asked.

Christine winked. "Let's shall."

Peter got up and opened the window a crack. After a few moments, their bodies dissolved into mist, and zoomed across the street and through the neighbor's keyhole. They drifted room to room, and grew more impatient as they came up empty. It was taxing to be in this form at their age, and they both wanted to find their desired hosts soon.

After coming to the conclusion that no one was home, they went back outside. They verified that the car was in the driveway. They drifted higher over the house, looking to and fro, and finally spotted their neighbors. They were jogging, about half a block away.

Peter and Christine's ethereal forms raced towards their marks. Peter outpaced his wife and got there first. He took a moment to watch mother and son as they ran together. He admired the way Sara's ponytail swung back and forth. He admired even more how her ass looked in the light blue lycra running shorts. They were tight and rode up the crack between her cheeks. He turned his attention toward Mark and shot forward. He hung in the air a few paces ahead, and allowed Mark to run into him.

Mark was briefly aware of running into a patch of fog as mist hit his face. But the condensation quickly started flowing into his mouth and nose. Something wasn't right. He felt his mind clouding, as if something were trying to make him go to sleep. But it also felt like he wasn't alone. Like someone else was there with him in his mind. Fear gripped him, but only for a moment, then everything went dark.

Peter instantly felt the power of strong legs and a youthful physique. He hated running, or jogging, or even a slow walk in his older body. But this body seemed like it could run for miles with no complaints. But he wasn't here to win any races.

The first thing Peter did was slacken Mark's pace. This allowed him to have an excellent view of Sara's tight butt. He could watch those cheeks move up and down all day. He wanted to spread them, to stick Mark's dick between them. The more he looked, the harder it became to run, because of the monster growing in his running shorts.

He looked up and saw his wife's mist keeping pace over Sara's head. What was she waiting for? Then he realized that she was probably enjoying his new problem, as his boner was easily viewable as it tented his shorts.

Peter stopped running and began a leisurely walk. "C'mon," he said Mark's voice. "Just do it already."

Sara was twenty paces ahead, and didn't quite hear what her son said. She turned around. "What did you say? And what are you stopping for?"

"I said I'm tired already. I feel like something's slowing me down."

Concerned, she walked back towards her son. "Are you feeling okay?"

He smiled at her. "It's just hard to run when I've got this problem down here." He gestured towards the tent in his shorts.

Sara looked down and gasped, then began to sputter, "Um, okay. That, uh, that doesn't usually happen when we run."

"I know. But this time I couldn't keep myself from looking at your butt, so now I've got this massive boner."

She was about to admonish him, when a mist flew into her face. She flailed as a presence hit her consciousness like a wrecking ball. Her eyes rolled back in her head, but a moment later, they reappeared with a lustful gleam. She smiled and said, "Do you like looking at mommy's butt?"