I took a moment when Mom wasn't looking tosit down on the couch and cross my legs. The sense of freedom, the lack ofsomething in the way when I moved, was so strange, so - liberating. Isqueezed my crossed legs together, feeling nothing but muscle rubbingagainst muscle. Nothing to get squished down there, any more.Actually I wasn't completely sure all the difference could really beaccounted for by my vanished manhood. It was possible I had slightlyaltered my hip structure as well.Now that I had a few moments to get used to it, I realized it wasincredibly erotic. And it also removed any way to satisfy that feeling. Isure wouldn't want to be stuck like this. I'd bet the novelty would wearoff real quick, leaving only the downside. Still, it was an amazingexperience to be more turned on than ever before in my life, without theleast bulge in my pants to give an outward sign of it.Dad walked into the room, and did a mock double take at finding me there."Not out helping your girl?" He. It does not matter, not with this man, not with this friend. It does not even matter that he had only become more stunning over the years, his physique settling into the definition of manhood, muscles and lines simply asking to be touched. I try to reach for him, but he captures my hands before I can satisfy my skin hunger. “No - my turn. Remember.” A teasing reminder in a voice so deep and seductive it made women swoon. He has caught both my wrists in one of his hands above my head. He knows me well. And so do I him. I bow my back, let my breasts stroke along his skin, startling a moan from him. I love that sound. He captures my laughter with his mouth, his tongue, his breath; laughter has always been part of our interludes. For a moment we just rest there, brows touching, sharing our breath and smiles. Wordless. There is no need to speak, we have long since passed the time when intimacy needed verbal communication. His hand strokes down my side, finding all those places I love.
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