You give her the Blake she desires

You haul your own limp form from the passenger seat of Naomi's car, an arm draped over your shoulder. It's surreal, dragging your true body around like a sack of laundry while you pilot another. You prop your unconscious self against the wall in the hallway, out of immediate sight. No sense in ruining the mood with a corpse-like Chad slumped in the living room.

The click of the bathroom upstairs signals Naomi's return. You quickly move to the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the newel post in what you hope is a casual, Blake-like pose. The cool wood feels strange against your borrowed skin.

She appears at the top of the stairs, and the sight of her makes your new body react with an intensity that surprises you. She's changed, or rather, she's undone. The severe white blouse is gone, replaced by a simple black lace bralette that offers a delicious hint of the perfection beneath. Her yoga pants sit low on her hips, revealing the toned lines of her stomach. She moves with a predator's grace, descending slowly, her eyes locked on you.

"I was thinking," you say, your voice a low rumble in Blake's chest, a sound you're still getting used to. "Maybe we should slow this down. Talk a little."

A disappointed shadow crosses Naomi's face, but it vanishes as quickly as it came, replaced by a sly, knowing smile. "Talk? I didn't bring you here to talk, Chad." She reaches the bottom step, her body inches from yours. The scent of her perfume—a clean, floral scent you can't name—fills your senses. "I brought you here to fuck. And you're going to fuck me like you mean it."

Her hand comes up to rest on your chest, fingers tracing the lines of Blake's abs. The touch sends a jolt through your system, a purely male surge of desire that's both yours and not yours. All thoughts of possessing her, of hijacking her body for your own amusement, evaporate like mist. She wants this. She wants *you*—or at least, the you currently wearing Blake.

You lean in, capturing her lips in a kiss that's all heat and tongue. She responds instantly, her hands tangling in your hair, pulling you closer. There's no hesitation, no reservation. She's been waiting for this, fantasizing about this moment for years. The weight of that longing is palpable, a current running between you that's more potent than any fantasy you've ever lived.

You pick her up and decire to use blakes memories...

"Nomes, I've dreamt of this day" you say leaning into the pet name on Blake would know for her. Your new voice sounds more confident.

She looks up at you and smiles. "Then show me what you've got." With that, you carry her to the bedroom, the dim light casting long shadows on the walls. You lay her down gently, your hands exploring her body with a newfound curiosity. Blake's knowledge of her preferences, her likes, and dislikes, floods your mind, and you use it to your advantage, touching her in ways that make her gasp with pleasure.

You undress her slowly, your lips tracing patterns on her skin. The sound of her moans fills the room, a symphony of desire that spurs you on. You enter her with a careful precision, your movements guided by Blake's memories and your own burgeoning desire. The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of power and intimacy.

You drive into her, your rhythm steady and relentless. Her nails dig into your back, her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you deeper. You watch her face, her eyes closed in ecstasy, her lips parted in a silent scream. You feel her climax, her body shuddering beneath you, a wave of pleasure that washes over you both.

You don't stop. You continue to move, your pace increasing as you chase your own release.

You flip her around and you slide out of her dripping wet pussy only to hear her soft whimper as you do.

Deciding you need this as much as she does you tell her to beg for it as you slap her ass with you rock hard member. This new found confidence is exhilarating

"Oh god Blake, please. I need you inside me. Now" she says as she arches her back.

You don't need to be told twice. You plunge back into her, deeper this time, hitting a spot that makes her cry out.

"That's it baby, right there. Don't stop" she moans.

You oblige, your thrusts becoming more powerful, more demanding. You can feel your own climax building, a fire in your loins that's impossible to ignore. You reach around, your fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in tight circles. The combination of your deep thrusts and the stimulation on her clit sends her over the edge again, her body convulsing with pleasure.

This is it. The feeling of her, tight and hot around you, is too much. You can feel the pressure building, the inevitable release that's about to consume you. You try to hold back, to savor the moment, but it's no use.

With a guttural groan, you empty yourself into her, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm. You collapse on top of her, your breathing ragged, your heart pounding in your chest. For a moment, there's only the sound of your combined breathing, the aftershocks of your shared pleasure rippling through your bodies.

But as you lay there, a strange sensation begins to wash over you. A pull, a tug, as if something is being drawn out of you. You feel a strange lurch, a disorienting shift in perspective. The world around you seems to tilt, the sounds of the room becoming muffled and distant.

You look down at your hands, at the strong, muscular arms that aren't yours. But they're starting to feel... different. Fading. You can feel your consciousness, your sense of self, slipping away. You're being pulled, drawn into the warmth of Naomi's body, a siren's call that's impossible to resist.

Naomi, her body still humming with the aftermath of her orgasms, feels it too. A sudden, unexpected warmth spreading through her, a presence that's both familiar and foreign. She gasps, her eyes flying open.

"Chad?" she whispers, a look of dawning horror on her face. "What's happening?"

The last thing you see, from Blake's fading perspective, is Naomi's face, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and a strange, dawning understanding. Then, everything goes black.

You open your eyes. The world is different. You're looking up at the ceiling, at the familiar plaster of Blake's bedroom. But you're not on the bed. You're looking at yourself—no, at Blake's body—lying limply beside Naomi.

A wave of vertigo washes over you as you sit up, a cascade of dark hair falling over your shoulders. You look down at your hands, at the slender, perfectly manicured fingers that are now yours. You bring them to your face, feeling the soft curve of your cheek, the fullness of your lips.

You're in Naomi's body. And looking down at the still-unconscious form of Blake beside you, you realize you've got a whole new set of toys to play with.

***

You sit up in bed, the sheets tangled around your new legs. The feeling is intoxicating, a rush of power and a strange, unfamiliar vulnerability all at once. You run your hands over your new body, exploring the curves and contours that you've only ever looked at from the outside. The weight of Naomi's breasts on your chest, the softness of her skin, the subtle strength in her toned legs—it's all yours.

A glance at the mirror on the dresser confirms it. You're Naomi, her face looking back at you with a mixture of shock and a growing, predatory gleam. This is even better than you imagined.