First Trish, then shopping

You awaken and immediately let out a low moan. Trish's hefty cock stayed between your legs and you can feel the gentle pulse of her heartbeat. You lie there, unmoving, just soaking in the sensation. Only minutes later do you realize that it's not Trish's heartbeat you're feeling - that's the gentle pulsing of your thirsty pussy. Your vaginal muscles have a mind of their own. No wonder Trish has stayed semi-erect all through the hours you've been sleeping.

Speaking of which - you crack your eyes and find a cell phone tossed on the bedside table. Nudging it reveals that it's nearly 1:00 in the afternoon, so your cock glove has been massaging Trish's shaft for about six or seven hours. Some little part of you wants to feel ashamed, but you're too horny. Instead you give a deliberate squeeze and revel in the fact that your cunt isn't even tired. You could literally milk Trish's cock all day at this rate.

With a growing sense of pride at your unnatural abilities you rock your hips back ever so slightly, drawing in more of that delicious dick. Trish is still dead to the world, but her cock pumps a little squirt of precum into you as thanks for your efforts. You remember the voice said you'd need to fuck and this is so much more powerful than yesterday. You need another thick load inside you to get through the day!

Still moving slowly you start to flex those muscles, sucking Trish's cock in and drawing along it's length - base to tip, base to tip. You never had to learn this, you just do it with the expertise of a professional escort. You try to imagine how amazing this would feel if a girl did this to your cock, but it gets cross-wired with how good it feels to do this to another man's shaft.

In the midst of your confusion Trish wakes and immediately hugs you close. "God yes, Jane. I was having the sexiest dream, getting you to do all these things for me. But here you are doing the most amazing things to me for real."

You grind against her pelvis, no longer afraid of waking her up. For a while the two of you just rut in silence, Trish caressing your breasts and kissing your neck. Then a perverse thought slides into your mind and you can't stop yourself. "I'm sorry Trish, I just needed the morning after cum."

"Huh?"

You look away from her and grin, knowing the effect this will have on your hermaphrodite lover. "Yeah, the stuff you said they make the morning after pill out of. It was getting late, so I figured I should get some straight from the source."

Trish's cock immediately throbs and she grasps your hips. "Yes, yes, absolutely! We wouldn't want you to go too long without 'morning after cum'. Wouldn't want to give my regular cum a chance to knock you up."

"Yeah, some of my friends say it's important. Are you sure there's enough?"

Trish starts pressing herself as deep as she can, her nine inch beast of a cock filling every fold of your tight fuck tunnel. "I'll make sure there's enough for you, babe." After a night of attention from your pussy it doesn't take long for Trish to flush a hefty load of cum into your belly. You feel it coating your innards and thank your lucky stars that Trish's little swimmers can't get the job done.

Despite having just cum, Trish is an athletic girl and she forces herself out of bed. You'd like little more than to stay where you are, maybe prop a pillow under your butt to keep from making a mess, but your girlfriend has plans. She won't tell you what they are, promising you a surprise, but whatever it is involves you getting dressed up once more in the clothes your sister loaned you.

Since you're freshly fucked nothing really fazes you. The little red thong is fine. The lack of a bra? No problem. Trish leads you out of the house and before you know it you're driving. Trish won't say a thing, but soon the familiar shape of the mall where you met her rises before you. Still without any explanation Trish drags you along.

At first you expect to head to the food court or perhaps one of the little clubby or grunge fashion shops that sell clothes like the ones Trish prefers. Instead she leads you to the most conservative store in the whole mall. She sticks out like a sore thumb and you draw some looks as well, but Trish is on a mission. She stands you in front of a mirror and tries dozens of skirts and shirts, blouses and jeans, scarves and sweaters before finally settling on a small selection. Then she smiles at you and leads you into the changing room, a stack of clothes piled on your arms.

She whispers, "Now close your eyes," and you find yourself complying almost instantly. Your legs are shaking with excitement. You can't explain why, but the way Trish has taken charge has got you hot enough to go along with just about anything. You feel different fabrics slide on and off. Trish usually makes some unhappy noise as one piece or another refuses to fit you. At last she manages to dress you as she wanted and you feel a scrunchie snap over your hair, drawing it back into a ponytail.

Trish turns you slightly and tells you to open your eyes. They've been closed long enough even the store lighting makes you blink, but you find yourself staring at a demure young girl - certainly dressed for class, maybe for Sunday school. Any traditional mother would give her eye teeth to have such a proper looking daughter. The dark grey pleated skirt that runs almost to mid-calf, the soft, off-blue blouse and the simple black shoes give every impression of an A-Grade, moral student.

Trish's getup is no less surprising. She still has some makeup from yesterday, not to mention the purple hair, but the eyebrow rings are missing and she's dressed in a knee-length skirt and a pretty modest blouse. "Undercover," she whispers to you, her hand petting the curve of your hip just above your perfect ass. You have no idea what she's up to but you know you'll enjoy it.