Wife in the husband's body

The man in the mirror was . . . a man. And I'm not. And it was my husband. And I'm not. But I appear to be. I roll my shoulder, and the mirror's shoulder rolls. I lift my hand, and the mirror's hand lifts. I give my ass a liitle shake, and the mirror's ass shakes, and the mirror's penis swings. My penis swings, and slaps against my leg!

The man in the mirror is my husband, but its me. Even in his body, I can tell its not him.

But on the other hand, this is amazing. It is all so different. I'm bigger. And I feel muscles where I didn't and thinner where I shouldn't. I feel my chest. The terrain is familiar. I've run my hand over my husband's chest, and through his chest hair, so many times, but it is different from inside. And I have no breasts. I tweak my nipples so see if a man feels the same thing. He doesn't. Or rather he does, but it is so much milder, like having your nipples tweaked through your clothes rather than on your bare skin.

But the biggest difference remained -- and with the tweak of my nipple, I felt an unfamiliar swelling bewteen my legs, a growing heaviness and a definite tautness. My husband's cock -- my cock! -- was growing stiff and presenting itself for my inspection.