A heavy fist hammers on the door and I wake with a start, confused about where I am - who I am. "Ed, I know you're in there" comes my own voice, and I chuckle at the juxtaposition. Imagining someone witnessing this from the outside, they would be so confused to hear a big burly guy hammering on a door calling for "Ed" only to see a woman open it.
The door hammers on the frame again. "I will kick this in if I have to. Fuck, I hope this is the right room - the app said the phone was here. Ed, please. Open the damn door."
I don't want to do this. Not here, not in this roach-infested motel room in a seedy part of town. Not now, in the middle of the damn night. But to be honest, I don't want to do this anywhere at any time. I just want to walk away, tearing out my heart and throwing it into the trash on my way. But I don't. I get up and walk to the door, pressing my forehead against it as Susan hammers my giant fist against the door frame, her voice near hysterical.
I step back, unlatching the door, and open it - turning and walking to the bed where I sit, staring at my feet. She comes in, closing the door behind her, and drags the shitty motel chair over to face me.
"Are you okay?" That's her opener and I scoff. "Look, Ed, I'm ..." Yeah, I wouldn't know what to say to me either.
"Are you fucking him?," I ask, face grim as I stare at the woman I spent ten years loving, now currently inhabiting my body, and I struggle not to lose it. Something about this swap has my emotions cranked to eleven and I know this doesn't end well.
She grabs my hands, squeezing but not too hard. "No. I complained about you at work and that's my fault. I shouldn't have done that. I knew he was getting flirty with me and I should have stopped it, and I didn't. But he never made the offer for sex, and I wouldn't have taken it."
"You'll have to forgive me if I'm not sure I believe you'd have said no," I mutter, "When even your boss knows that your loser husband isn't getting the job done anymore." She winces and it's more effective than any slap I could have thrown in her direction.
"I'm a shitty wife," she says, and I can hear how much hurt she's in. "Ever since the miscarriages, I just shut down. It was easier not have sex than risk my heart on another failure. I just read my romance novels, got my thrills from there, and our bed got colder. I never stopped loving you, I just forgot how to show it." She sniffles, and it's one of the least manly things I've seen from my old face in a while, but tears start making trails through the dirt from a day's hard labor.
I start to cry, hearing those words from my wife, knowing just how painful it must have been for her to utter, and mumble my own confession. "The miscarriages hurt me, too. I had so many hopes and dreams of our kids, and nobody ever asked how I was doing. I was drowning by myself in sorrow while people showered you with assistance. I never stopped wanting you, I just forgot how to ask. It was easier to go find a dirty gym sock than show you just how much pain I was in."
Susan wraps my giant arms around her tiny body, pulling me into her chest, and I hug her tight and we both cry. "I'm so sorry," I mumble at her chest. "I love you so much, I just forgot how to be a good husband."
"I love you too," she replies, and she's tilting my head back, those big lips crushing into mine, the scruff on my old body's face tickling my chin, and she's kissing me. At first, it's slow - tentative, almost afraid - as I begin to let it happen. I'm not sure how to react to this, my body is sending so many conflicting signals that I'm completely unable to process, but as the kiss lengthens, something happens inside this body I'm now in and I start to respond.
I open my mouth and Susan's tongue slips inside mine, my own tongue questing forward, dueling with it, as her hands pull me into her lap and I'm straddling her in the motel chair. Her hand grasps my hair, tugging my mouth free and tilting my head back as she kisses her way down my neck, the way I always did to her, and she knows every single spot that triggers a moan from this body. I squirm helplessly as she plays me like a fiddle, panting like a bitch in heat, as she cups one breast and I'm kissing her again.
Ripping the shirt off my body, Susan leans forward, capturing a nipple in her mouth and sucking it in. I grab the back of her head, my fingers trying to find purchase in my old body's short hair, smashing her face into the breast as I grab the other breast with my free hand, fingers tweaking the nipple and I'm moaning once more. I had no idea just how good this body could be made to feel, I think a part of me always wondered just how much of the noises my wife made over the years were playing it up for my benefit but now I know. She is an intensely sexual woman and feels each touch as if magnified.
Susan changes her attention from one breast to the other, leaving the left nipple covered in saliva and harder than a diamond, and I'm begging "More" as she lavishes attention on the other breast. My panties are drenched and I'm grinding down onto her erection like a welder trying to smooth out a bead. She picks me up, carrying me to the bed, and lays on her back as I straddle her, only layers of denim and cotton separating us as we continue to kiss passionately.
"Are you okay with this?," Susan gently asks, as I gasp for breath in a rare pause in our action. "Continuing, I mean."
I pause, suddenly unsure. "I'm not sure," I admit. "But I can't leave you pent up like that, it's not fair to you."
"Why don't you teach me how to please you?" Her suggestion breaks my brain for a moment as I'm trying to put the pieces together, catching a sly smile on my body's face. "You did tell me I could masturbate with this dick."
I grin, unable to refute that point, and chuckle, my head resting on her neck as I do. "Okay, and you're okay with me figuring out how to get this body off? I just ... I don't know if I can put it inside of me."
She nods, rubbing my back soothingly, "Of course. I'd be happy to teach you."
Awkwardly, like a pair of teenagers figuring out how each other's naked bodies work for the first time, we stripped naked and laid down on the motel room's sheets, choosing to ignore the stains already present on the white fabric. Figuring it would be easier, and faster, to start with my old body, I lay next to her in the bed, taking a deep breath as I reach out, grasping my own cock with her delicate hands.
"Grab it hard, almost like you're trying to bruise it. Long, slow strokes are fine for if you're just in it to feel good, but they won't get you off." I demonstrate a few times, precum starting to bead at the tip, and I nod toward it. "That means you're getting closer." She groans in pleasure and I keep up the slow pace for another minute. "But it probably won't be enough."
I start stroking faster, almost painfully so, as I lean forward and spit into my hand, using it for lube, my breasts hanging over her as I do. The rhythm picks up and she's making grunting noises with my mouth, ones I'm intimately familiar with, and I realize just how close she's getting. "Susan," I say and she opens her eyes, staring at me. "Cum," I command. "Cum for me."
And she does, an arc of cum blasting forth from my cock like a rocket escaping Earth's orbit, spattering wetly across my cheek. Another jet splatters across my breasts, then another on my breasts, as I'm still pumping as hard as I can, the cum spattering against Susan's body as I use it to give her - in my body - as much pleasure as I can manage right now. One final spray spatters against the hollow my throat, dripping obscenely down my neck.
"Ed! Oh fuck, Ed!" She collapses back onto the bed, utterly drained, as I glance at my cum-covered hand and body, consciously choosing not to be disgusted by the sight, knowing that it made Susan happy. I grin, suddenly overjoyed. This is the first orgasm that one of us has given the other in months, and as fucked up and strange as the situation is, I'm honestly overjoyed.
She gasps for breath, my body's broad chest heaving, and I find myself biting my lip as I stare at the broad muscles, hard-earned signs of hours upon hours of dedication in the gym, and realize just how easy it would be for her to pick me up in this body and pin me against the wall, even though we said no to sex. And just how much self-control she must have to not do that, when every instinct in that body must be demanding to fuck me.
Finally, Susan sits up, propping herself on her elbows, and looks over at me, cum still dripping from my face and tits, and she laughs. "You're a mess. Ready for your turn?"
I nod and lay down, nervous and unsure of what to expect. Yes, I've fingered my wife before - what husband hasn't - but suddenly having the roles reversed? Weird.
Susan kneels between my legs and I gulp, staring at the still-hard cock, hoping she's going to keep her promise, but wondering what it would feel like if she didn't. Luckily, I think, she keeps her promise and instead licks her fingers, gently tracing my labia with one and inserting it. I gasp, one hand shooting out and grabbing her thick forearm, holding it steady inside of me.
She inserts a second finger and they start moving together, she's stroking them in and out, curling them up inside of me, and I'm squirming and moaning in the bed. Then she reaches over and rubs my clit and I seize like I just took a hit of 110-volt straight from the mains. She starts putting the pieces together, rubbing the clit while pumping inside of me, and my hips come off the bed and I start speaking in tongues, unable to do anything but babble.
My head rolls to the side and I make eye contact with her as she drives my body like a racecar, knowing exactly how to please it, and I'm moaning as she leans in, kissing me deeply. "I never stopped loving you, Ed," she says, hammering away at my clit at top speed now.
"I love you," I gasp back, and the orgasm hits like a freight train. I scream - a raw, broken sound full of healing and lust - my back bowing so hard that Susan pins me to the bed as she continues. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through this body of hers that I've borrowed, my clit pulsing against her thumb, walls clamping around her fingers so tight I'm worried I'll break them.
I feel a gush, hot fluid splashing across Susan's wrist, dripping onto the hotel sheets, and she keeps stroking through all of it, drawing out every aftershock until I'm sobbing again, this time from relief. I collapse onto the bed and she curls me into her, holding me close. My old body's cum is coating the one I'm currently wearing, her old body's slick juices are splattered all over her current one's hand. We are a mess, but I don't care.
Without breaking eye contact, Susan lifts her wet hand to her mouth and licks it clean. I reciprocate without thinking, wiping a gob of cum from my face and into my mouth, swallowing. I drag her down onto me, kissing her and tasting this body's lust on her tongue. Foreheads pressed together, we pause, just breathing the same air for a moment, collecting ourselves.
"I'm sorry," I whisper at her.
"I'm sorry, too," she replies.
We're not perfect, but we're finally moving in the right direction, and I let her spoon into my back, wrapping her hand around me, holding me tight, giant muscular husband spooning petite wife, as I close my eyes and we drift to sleep in the seedy motel room.