Slacking

It didn’t take long. Julie’s house felt smaller than his old life. He wondered how he’d ever fit in it, how his old self could ever stand it. He wondered if it could stand the orgasms he planned next.

Kent found his body adjoining rooms. No longer in the attic. The body was a bit more relaxed, a bit more **** where it slept. He should have been back sooner, should have caught his own slacking off. The nerve.

He liked seeing it like this. His male body seemed unaware of his new plot. Unaware and asleep.

Kent moved closer, squatted next to it. He ran Julie’s fingers over his own muscles, and the thrill of it rippled through her. How long would it last? How long could he keep this up?

He didn’t care to know, not yet, not now.

He let his male body sleep, and he let it dream. Kent, in Julie’s body, moved his hips forward, closer to the body. She was wet and wanting, and Kent knew his fingers were the perfect fit. Julie grabbed the wrist and tucked his own fingers right up her pussy. Kent couldn’t deal with taking things slow, not when he already stretched out Julie’s pussy with her own fingers.

It was surreal, knowing he was pushing his own fingers into Julie’s pussy. They stretched her wet hole while his male body lay there, still asleep. Still unaware of how far Kent had taken things. He moved her hips again, again, again. He was growing reckless; he was growing wild. Her tight pussy was dripping, and she was already back on the edge. He barely needed to touch her, barely needed to do anything.

He rode out a silent, thigh-shaking orgasm on his own fingers, grunting as her juices spilled all over his shorts.

A gasp later, fingers still tucked deep, his body stirred, and his old self opened its eyes. It caught him, Julie, in the act. Kent knew it would. He wanted it to.

His male body came alive, one small shift at a time. The nerve endings. The pulse. The mind. And when it did, Kent took control of everything.

“Get up,” Kent commanded.

It struggled, the way Kent struggled under Julie’s thumb. He laughed, that wild and new laugh he was still getting used to.

“Take it off,” he said, voice more certain than he remembered it. “The clothes. All of it.”

His body was already in motion before he finished, already a sweaty mess in cargo shorts and Kent’s old shirt. It moved like he used to, a little clumsy, a little too eager to please.

Kent slipped a hand between Julie’s legs and let the show begin.

He took control of her hips, let her pussy hover just above his male body’s reach. Its fingers stretched for him. For her.

Kent smirked. “You want this?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

The clone nodded slowly. “Yes.”

Kent tilted her head. “Say yes, Mistress.”

The clone hesitated.

“You’re not talking to yourself,” Kent murmured, Julie’s own fingers teasing slow circles against Julie’s clit. “You’re talking to me. To her.”

The clone’s mouth worked silently for a second, like it had to **** the words through. Then, finally: “Yes, Mistress.”

Kent smiled like sin. “Much better.”

He let her hips lower—just a hair—before pulling back again. “Beg.”

The clone’s hands clenched at his sides, jaw working like it wanted to protest. But it didn’t.

“Please,” it said quietly. “Please. I want you.”

Kent arched a brow. “To do what?”

“To touch me. To fuck me. Please, Mistress Julie.”

“Damn right,” Kent whispered, finally letting her hips drop.

Kent rolled her hips slowly, deliberately, letting Julie’s slick pussy glide against the clone’s cock without giving him the relief he wanted. He leaned forward—she leaned forward—pressing Julie’s breasts to his chest as she brought her mouth to his ear.

“Don't get too excited,” Kent whispered, her voice as sweet as honey. Her lips brushed his ear before her teeth grazed it. “You don’t have permission to come.”

The clone twitched beneath her, hips rising instinctively. Kent slammed her hand down on his chest, nails scraping skin.

“I said no,” he growled, low and dangerous. “You don’t do anything until I say so.”

The clone shuddered.

“You feel good?” she whispered again, nipping at his earlobe. “Of course you do. It’s me. It’s her. You’ve never had anything this perfect.”

She ground against him once more—slow, controlled, just enough friction to make him moan without mercy.

“But if you come without permission…” Kent’s voice dropped even lower. “I’ll leave you in the attic again. Limp and useless. Understand?”

The clone’s breath hitched. “Yes, Mistress Julie.”

Kent smiled and kissed his jaw, slow and mocking. “Good boy.”

Then he moved, letting his pussy get so close to his male body’s mouth. Her positioned his hips just above his lips, hovering over the open mouth, watching the tongue flick greedily at the glistening glaze between her legs. The clone whimpered, **** to taste her, but Kent didn’t grant the mercy.

First, he pressed her slit to the tip of the clone’s nose, grinding gently, letting him inhale her scent. It was intoxicating. He was getting high off it, feeling it fuel his arousal like gasoline kissing open flame.

“That’s all you get for now,” Kent said, rolling her hips slowly, coating the bridge of his nose and upper lip with the wetness pooling from her. The clone shuddered and tried to rise, but Kent topped him easily, forcing her hips down in a way that made the clone’s mouth open, tongue stretching, straining for more.

“Greedy little thing,” Kent whispered, delighting in the way his old body responded to every command.

He rocked, savoring the clone’s helplessness, the desperation in his eyes. When at last Kent relented and lowered her pussy to the waiting tongue, the rush of sensation nearly buckled her knees. The hunger in his own eyes—the clone’s eyes—was matched only by the pure, unbridled greed in the way he lapped at Julie’s slick heat. Kent pressed down, smothering his face, grinding the fine bones of her stolen hips against his old jaw, letting him worship her. His old body was devoured her with greedy, **** strokes.

“Fuck, Kent!” he said, playing the part of his old self, playing the part of his new self.

His old body moaned, muffled and struggling, and he loved that too. He let it worship him. He let it give him the attention he’d never get as a boy.

“Fuck, Julie!” Kent gasped, knowing he was both.

Arousal built again—Kent was soaked, breathless, aching for more.

Kent lowered himself, moving her pussy over its mouth, grinding against it. He reached behind, felt his own cock twitch, felt it strain, reach.

But Kent had other plans.

He always did.

Kent panted, shifting her hips to line up with his old body’s cock. It throbbed against her, eager. He lowered her slowly, guiding Julie’s hips with precision, letting the tip tease her slit, just barely splitting her lips. He relished the anticipation, the way her pussy fluttered and flexed around nothing, **** for that first push, the moment of surrender.

When his cock was finally buried to the hilt, Kent rolled Julie’s hips, riding his old body with a fever that bordered on delirium. The first full thrust sent a bolt of sensation up Julie’s spine, igniting every nerve ending between her thighs. The feeling was nothing like Kent knew; it was softer, more encompassing, a rolling wave instead of a sharp, blunt punch. He could barely keep her hands off herself—squeezing, pinching, loving how full she felt, so full it made him want to cry. He bounced up, hands on Julie’s tits as they bounced with every thrust.

He grabbed the clone’s hands, guiding them to Julie’s breasts—soft, full, and bouncing beneath him. The pressure, the heat, the slick slide of skin on skin—Kent felt every bit of it, every inch of his pussy clenching down, every shocking pulse of pleasure as his G-spot was battered and worshipped. The clone’s hands were greedy and rough, just like Kent remembered being. The old Kent in the new Kent’s hands. A twisted loop of pleasure and need, and he got off on all of it.

Kent rode harder, squeezing Julie’s tits until her whole body shook. It couldn’t last—but he wouldn’t let it end. He didn’t want to stop. The thrill of fucking himself—of making himself work—was nearly as good as the sensation.

“Fuck!” he gasped again, pushing her harder against what used to be him.

He loved how close they both were—so close—but he wouldn’t let it happen.

He slowed, pulled off, savoring how easy it was to tease in Julie’s skin.

His old self tried to move, tried to get close again, but Kent was in charge. “Hold on,” he said. “Not yet.”

He shifted, the butt plug pressing against him, reminding him of how greedy his spirit was. Kent felt his male body twitch, felt it strain, felt it try to hold back. He got up, pussy aching, knowing she’d get what she wanted. Kent turned around, positioned Julie’s ass in the clone’s face, felt it moan and twitch as he reached back and pulled out the plug. He took it slow, loving the way Julie’s hole stretched for him. The base popped out, and he was open and exposed.

It didn’t last. He knew it wouldn’t. He slipped his male body’s dick into Julie’s tight pink hole, one of the things she didn’t let him touch until now. The one thing that wasn’t Kent’s.

It was now.

“Ahhhh!” he gasped as he lowered himself, felt her ass take it all.

He started to move, riding his male body in reverse, feeling Julie’s cheeks slap against its thighs. He loved the sound of it, loved the feeling of it, loved how loud it was in the room, in his head, in the universe.

His male body struggled, tried to move its hips to match his pace, but Kent was in control. It was tighter than he remembered. Julie’s ass clenched around it—he didn’t know if either of them could take it, but he planned on it.

“God, yes!” he shouted, losing himself, finding himself.

Kent loved how full she felt—how full of himself she was. He bounced, hands on his old body’s knees, leaving her tits free to jiggle and sway.

Beneath him, the clone let out a ragged groan. Its hands gripped Kent’s thighs, clenching tighter with every slam of her ass. Then—unprompted—it moved. One hand slid between Julie’s legs, fingers finding the slick mess Kent had made, circling her clit. The other crept lower.

Kent stiffened, startled, as the clone slipped two fingers inside him—inside her—and started to fuck him back. Greedy. ****. Controlled only by need.

The stretch felt divine. The pressure sent a shock through his spine. Her pussy clenched harder around the cock buried in her ass. He nearly cried out.

The clone worked faster, trying to coax the orgasm out of Kent like a man trying to earn mercy. Tired of begging, afraid to be denied again, it gave everything—every thrust, every curl of its fingers, every inch of effort.

Kent gasped. “You want it that bad?”

The clone didn’t speak. It just pushed deeper, curling up against that spot that made Kent see stars.

“Then make me come,” Kent said, breath catching. “And maybe I’ll let you.”

His male form was on the edge, and so was he. But Kent was in charge. He loved it more than the sensation, more than anything.

The heat inside Kent spiked, sharp and sudden, a shot of slick pleasure that flooded Kent’s mind and Julie’s body all at once. Sweat slicked her chest, slipping between her breasts in glistening rivulets. He let it roll. Let it pool. Let it shine.

More, he thought. More bounce. More heat.

He shifted her hips, changed the angle, so her ass hit harder and her tits bounced wilder. He chased the rhythm, feeling it crest. It was going to break. It was going to end. He didn’t want it to end.

Lick it. Taste it. Own it.

The command came from nowhere and everywhere—his mind, her nerves, their hunger.

Kent leaned in and ran her tongue slowly along her armpit, dragging it through the salty, glistening heat. The taste of sweat hit hard—raw, real, and salty. He groaned, loud and giddy.

Again.

Julie’s tongue licked a second time, slower, greedier. Kent felt everything. The musk. The salt. The fire under her skin. Fuck, that was good.

Her body shuddered and so did he. He laughed—sharp, wild, uncontainable. His old self couldn’t keep up. No one could.

He was becoming something else entirely. And he tasted it first on her skin.

Kent felt it crest—her moans and his blurring into one. Julie’s fingers rubbed against her clit, the clone’s cock was in her ass, and Kent felt it all. Worked her open, until everything broke.

“Fuuuck,” he gasped, as he finally gave the clone the one command it had been waiting for all along. “Come for me, Kent. Show me what I do best.”

The clone cried out—his old voice, warped by lust—and came hard, cock twitching deep inside her. Kent felt it. Felt everything. The stretch, the pulse, the slick rush between her thighs as Julie’s body came undone.

He rode the wave until it blurred to white.

Breathless, spent, triumphant, Kent collapsed in her skin. The clone twitched beneath him, drained and obedient.

Kent just smiled. This wasn’t punishment. It was freedom.

He would stay like this. Maybe all summer. Maybe forever.

Julie’s body was his now—everything he dreamed, everything she feared.

The room was too hot. Too perfect. But Kent had time.

He had all the time in the world.

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