Sex With Myself As My Boss : Bodyswaps 11

by Fearne Forrester

Ms. Clarke takes us to the Tokyo Game Show as part of a team-building exercise, but when she and I enter the brand-new You&Me machine and swap places, we realize how badly we’ve wanted each other.

Read as we push the limits of this new technology, satisfying our deep held urges as I turn into Ms. Clarke and gratify our switched bodies!


“Good boy,” she said.

I felt like such a little sissy, sucking cock like that.  I wasn’t gay—or I didn’t think I was—and I was having trouble figuring out exactly what this made me.  Did it make me anything?

“Suck that cock, Mike,” she said, her voice low and smooth.

Ms. Clarke was seriously into it, and so was I.  I wanted desperately to get at my pussy, but still felt a subordinate in front of Ms. Clarke.  I couldn’t take charge, could I?  She was my boss!

Ms. Clarke started to fuck my mouth, moving her hips back and forwards.  I kept my head still, feeling her stiffness rush through me again and again.  She made sure to stay away from my throat this time.  I circled my tongue around her cock and listened to her enjoy me.

“That’s it, Mike.  You know how you like it, don’t you.”


I did.  I had a lifetime of yearning.  I started to cradle her balls, squeezing them softly and making sure I drenched her cock in as much of my saliva as I could muster.

My hand slipped down her, massaging my spit into her thickness until the glare of the screen before us shone in her length.

I pulled at her jeans, removing everything until Ms. Clarke was naked from the waist down.  I wondered if there was something narcissistic about sucking your own cock, but the scenario felt different.  It wasn’t me being pleasured, but Ms. Clarke.

She stripped back my shirt and tossed it aside, standing completely naked before me.  I had no idea where to begin undressing myself.  Thankfully I didn’t need to know.

Ms. Clarke descended on me, moving me to the floor and popping the buttons on my blouse.

“Let’s get these off.  God, I really do dress like a frumpy old woman, don’t I?”

“No way,” I answered quickly.  There was nothing frumpy about Ms. Clarke.  She was classy.

She pulled my shirt open and I looked down at my heaving breasts as I breathed deep.  I had no idea Ms. Clarke was in possession of such a big pair of tits.  She kept them well hidden beneath her jacket.

“Let’s set them free,” she teased.  “It’s about time.”

I sat up and took off the jacket, then Ms. Clarke removed my blouse.  Her fingers pinched at my bra clasp and opened it effortlessly.  I felt so shy revealing myself to her, but Ms. Clarke didn’t hesitate.  She just took off my bra like it was nothing and then moved her face straight to my tits.

“You’ve got to try this, Mike,” she said, clasping her lips over my nipples.

I looked down and watched my old face start to feed.  Fuck, I’d take that image with me.  Seeing life through Ms. Clarke’s lens gave me distorted memories.  It was like capturing a P.O.V session from Ms. Clarke, watching closely as one of her employees sucked her tits.

But the feelings were all being delivered to me.  I felt the tingle of bliss shiver down my body and explode in my pussy.  It forced me to take a deep breath; forced me to moan.  I grunted and dug my nails into the thick carpet beneath us.

“Yes,” Ms. Clarke said steadily.  Her eyes opened and she looked up at me with a smirk.  “Good, isn’t it?”


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