“What do you mean, it’s time?” he sat across the table with a skeptical look on his face, the kind of look that said he wanted what I said to mean what he hoped it meant, but didn’t want me to know he was eager.
I couldn’t blame him. It was our fourth date and I was sure it would probably be our last if I didn’t give him some kind of sign that said we were going to fuck, at some point, maybe soon. “Can we go back to your place, tonight?” I asked.
His eyes swept across me with a new appreciation or hunger or both. A little smile traced its way across his lips.
His lips. I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed kissing him. You know how every lover is different, how everybody has a different way that they like to kiss and be kissed? James was my favorite. He had a way of kissing that started light and then sped up, became more urgent.
“I mean,” I batted my eyelashes and traced my finger across the back of his hand. “There’s a reason we haven’t, you know, gone further.” The lead ball in the pit of my stomach returned.
I had been thinking about it for the last three days, going back and forth about what I was going to do. James seemed so perfect, I mean, he could kiss, he was well-built, he had beautiful eyes, and he was smart and patient and kind and the list went on and on. Trust me, I liked James a lot. I thought about him all the time, but the fact that I was a Futanari was a problem. Continue reading Futanari Stories – Futanari Transformation