Imagine it

You imagine it—your cock sliding into Jo’s sex… but it’s all back to front. You in Jo’s tiny body, the cock inside you. Thick. Thrusting rhythmically - you can picture it vividly, just as he teases you with the bullet - all this despite your clearly stated and strongly held desire to hold onto your heterosexual male ego. You don’t want to fuck anything in this body, but you can see it happening!

Jo toys with the remote with a deeper understanding of your sensitive female body than you possess. The low buzz of the bullet hums steadily, then spikes, then drops again - “fucking don’t,” you gasp - he’s mimicking the slow, deliberate rhythm of a thick cock sliding in and out. You can practically see it.

Your new pussy flutters around the intrusion of the bullet, greedy, soaking. You picture your old male body behind you: tall, strong, hands firmly and confidently gripping your narrow hips, that familiar veiny length sliding up your naked thigh, nestling at your swollen lips, the bulbous head stretching you open, his member hot and oh so heavy, thrusting deep into you, bottoming out with every thrust until your thighs shake and your toes curl in these stupid Ugg boots. Your tiny clit erect and insistent.

Jo’s thumb dances over the dial again—up, hold, down, teasing—your breath hitches into something embarrassingly close to a gasp. Your clit throbs in time with the vibrations; your nipples are so hard they ache against the lace and the lining of the coat.

“A big thick cock, fucking your tight. Hot. Moistly swollen cunt… aren’t you a dirty girl, princess?” Jo asks you.

You press your thighs together under the table, trying to trap the sensation, but it only makes everything slicker, hotter, more insistent.

A cock would feel better. He’s right. You both know it. Fucking hell, it would feel perfect.

You’re right on the edge—muscles tensing, belly tight, that sweet coiling pressure building so fast you can barely breathe—when the waitress reappears with a bright, “Here we go!”

Two steaming plates land in front of you. You snap your eyes open, dazed, cheeks burning, lips parted. Jo mercifully dials the vibe back to its lowest murmur, but even that is **** now. Your whole body feels wound tight, seconds from shattering.