Jaycee's Blog - Mon, June 6

How was your weekend, everyone? Mine was eventful, thanks for asking. As you may recall, I getting together with Brooke ("wearing" my body) in Trois-Rivieres, something I dreaded because it meant having a conversation about—who else?—Mandy. As mentioned before, I also made sure I'd have plenty of sex before leaving. Riley slept over on Friday night, so we even had quick sex before I left on Saturday morning. (When she asked where I was going, I told her the truth, sort of: I was meeting "Jaycee" to try and patch things up. She thought it was a great idea.)

And so I drove to Trois-Rivieres, which was a little less than a two-hour drive. I got there in time for lunch and ate at a microbrewery called Archibald. Since the place was crowded and I was by myself, I sat at the counter, thinking nothing of it. Except a stunner like Brooke (in this case, me) can't sit by herself at a counter without someone hitting on her, which is precisely what happened. This (admittedly handsome) guy in a suit—who was obviously having lunch with a pretty girl—came to hit on me while I ate. Not wanting to be a complete asshole, I tried to let him down easy, but he stuck to his spot like a damn barnacle. I was searching for a more brutal put down when it started.

I felt a rising wave of heat swell inside me. I think I might even have gasped then exhaled slowly, which if you've seen Brooke's body before can be quite a show. Fancy Guy wasn't shy about staring at my tits, and I was in no condition to shoo him away. Even if I'm not into guys, my body was too turned on and I was starting to imagine things I'd do to him right there in public. Finally, seconds away from me grabbing his neck and French kissing him, a hand landed on his shoulder and moved him away.

"Hey, honey," another man said, stepping in. "Sorry it took me a while, parking was a bitch."

I was grateful for the save until I saw who it was: me. But not quite me. A version of me with self-confidence and a great fashion sense. Obviously, that was Brooke. He (she?) turned to Fancy Guy and gave him a winning smile that I didn't think was possible with my former body.

"Thanks for keeping her company, bud," he said. "I'll take it from here."

I was struggling to find my words. My body was on fire like I'd been masturbating for an hour. It was hard to think and all I wanted was to wrap myself over and around Brooke, and screw him until one of us passed out. Brooke turned back to me as Fancy Guy left us.

"Yeah, you're in a state, aren't you?" he said matter-of-factly.

I could only moan my answer. It was all I could do from not ripping my clothes off right at that moment and throwing myself at him. He took care of the check and walked me out. My legs were wobbly, so he wrapped one of my arms around his shoulder and held me by the waist as we walked out. I was a hot and wet mess, and my heavy moaning left no doubt as to what was wrong with me. Still, Brooke was kind of a gentleman and just told people I'd had a little too much to drink (like anyone'd believe that). He sat me in his car, grabbed my luggage from mine, and drove us to the hotel where we had agreed to meet. In the privacy of his car, I let my hands roam free, grabbing my boobs and rubbing my crotch like I was by myself.

"Hey," Brooke said with a laugh that echoed through me, "that's my body you're messing with. Don't wear it out."

There was no chance of that. It felt like I was filled with inextinguishable sexual energy. Just rubbing myself through my clothes was sending sparks that were headed in only one direction: an apotheosis of fireworks. I flooded my jeans, which would have been a concerned for the seats of what was technically my car, except that Brooke had thoughtfully laid a blanket there "just in case." (I'd later learn that it's just something he did out of habit when bringing home girls that he knew were hot for him—which was most of them.)

After my orgasm, I was able to think more clearly, but barely.

"What the hell was that?" I asked, still panting.

"Looks like we get real turned on when next to each other," Brooke said.

I looked at him, surprised. "S-so it's not just me?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I've got a boner the size of Texas right now, and there's nothing I'd like more than to stick it into you. Or in me," he added, glancing at my form in the passenger seat.

"Then how come...?" I started, not wanting to finish the sentence.

He shrugged. "I've just got better self-control than you do."

By the time we got to the hotel, I felt my arousal start rising again. We quickly got to our respective rooms, where I think we all know what happened. An hour-ish later, we called each other on the phone and tried to figure out what was happening. My explanation was that Fantasia's magic probably had some side effect (something not uncommon with faerie magic), and our proximity to each other might trigger a twisted connection to our former body. Being some distance apart seemed to keep us calmer.

"How did you find me at the restaurant?" I asked.

"Dumb luck," Brooke answered. "I was hungry and that place is highly rated on Yelp, so I went in. When I saw you at the counter, I figured the boner was just because your body—my body—is so hot. When I saw you were also turned on without even seeing me, though, I guessed it was something else."

I thought about how we were going to have that conversation we had planned on, and sighed. There was no way we were getting together without ripping each other's clothes off and going at it like horny rabbits.

"This weekend is kind of a wash, isn't it? No way we're meeting in person now."

There was a pause on the phone.

"Why not?"

"I'm still pissed at you," I growled. "That thing with Mandy... That's a betrayal of the bro code! Even Barney* wouldn't do something like that."

* Barney is a character from How I Met Your Mother. If you've never seen the show, that reference is lost on you.

"Barney would totally do that," Brooke said. "But look, we're not bros, all right? We haven't been just 'two guys' in years. You haven't used a male pronoun to talk about me since... I can't remember when. We haven't hung out and hunted for chicks in...forever."

He was making good points. I was thinking of him in my body and me in his. It's not like we had anything to hide from one another. Why was that making me horny again?

"And if you think about it," he continued as if reading my mind, "we know each other's body in every way and detail possible. Or almost. Look, if we're going to stay like this for a while, shouldn't we, y'know, help each other cope with the change and make the best of it?"

It wasn't making much sense to my brain, but my body was starting to sing again, if you catch my drift. I noticed my boobs were out and I was caressing them distractedly. What was wrong with me? Why was I suddenly so--

There was a knock at the door, and it was echoed on the phone from Brooke's side. It was him! Her! She was outside my door and I was starting to go crazy with lust. I couldn't do this, I shouldn't have done it, but it was too hard to resist. My mind was reeling from images too perverse to describe here. I wanted to throw this body at my former body, and see what happened. It almost didn't matter who was in that body so long as I rubbed myself against it, so long as it entered me intimately.

I opened the door. There stood Brooke, wearing my body, smelling incredibly sexy and looking at me with a hunger that reverberated in my most private place. He stepped in, grabbed me, and closed the door behind him.

Wha happened next...I'll leave to your imagination. We didn't talk, except in moans and groans. We lost track of time and fell asleep after dawn. The room was a smelly, sticky mess, and there was no doubt I'd have to pay a heavy cleanup penalty. I didn't care. I'd been a girl for a while (and been gender-swapped a few times before), but I'd never known this kind of bliss, ever. There was a level of intimacy between Brooke and I that I didn't know was possible. I'd never been so thoroughly and properly...serviced in a female body, and lay there in my bed, at peace, for an hour before packing up and leaving.

Brooke and I haven't spoken about this since Sunday. We've exchanged awkward texts, but we didn't speak or meet before returning to our respective homes. Last night, I had erotic dreams about sleeping with him/her again. (Goddam, can I just choose a pronoun?) Very erotic dreams. It's like my body is craving for his touch (there! I'll think of him as male, now!). Even now, just thinking about it... Okay, I have to go. ;)

--Jaycee