Hot. Little. Husband.
by T.G. Cooper
This story features a slow sex change, role-reversal, gender identity explorations and some PG-13 rated sex scenes.
Drunk, happy, I kind of forgot about Adam's change until he slipped out of his t-shirt and I saw the tops of his breasts swelling out above the cloth I'd used to tie them down. I closed my eyes, ignoring the sight, and we kissed some more as he pushed my panties down off my hips and to my knees, slipping his hand between my legs. I clawed at his back, and felt the cloth come lose as Adam climbed on top of me and settled in between my legs. I looked up at him, but instead of seeing him looking down at me I saw his little breasts swaying, his nipples hard little pink erasers, pointing up at the moon. I groaned and closed my eyes, he started rocking, and despite myself I looked at him again, saw his breasts bouncing, and he had his eyes closed and was biting his lip, and I said, "No! No," as I pushed him off me.
"What?" He said, caught up in passion, not even seeming to be aware of the gross little titties bouncing on his chest.
"Those," I said, pulling my legs to my chest and looking away from him. "It's just... gross."
"Oh," he said. "Shit. Look, I know it's a little weird..." He said, coming over and putting his hands on my shoulders. I felt his hard nipples brushing against my back.
"Oh, no!" I said. "Would you please cover your tits!?"
"Darn," he said, turning away. "Jesus."
I closed my eyes. "Look. I'm sorry. It's just... weird for me. That's all."
"No. Yeah. I get it. I just... okay. It was a bad idea."
"Maybe if we wrap them up? You keep your shirt on?"
"No. I'm not in the mood anymore," he said.
"Look, I'm sorry..."
"I know," he said, gathering up his clothes and walking away. He had his back to me, but I could see he had one arm over his breasts. "Don't worry about it."
Shit. I felt terrible, but it had just been such a turnoff to see my husband's boobs bouncing like that, to see his nipples all hard, like a horny girl. I waited for awhile, looking up at the moon, listening to the chirping of the cicadas. At the night, the jungle thrummed with the steady chirping of thousands and thousands of insects. It sounded like the breath of a great, sleeping dragon. When I felt like it had been long enough, I walked back to the cabin, climbed into bed with Adam. He was asleep, and with the blanket pulled up around his shoulders, I couldn't see his puppies. I looked at his face-- the square, cleft chin, dusted with red stubble, the strong cheek bones, bushy eyebrows. He was a handsome man, and I thought especially when he was asleep. I breathed in his masculine musk, gently touched his hair, and promised myself I would do something for him in the morning to make up for what had happened. I loved him, and he was as good a husband as a girl could ask for, and I did love that handsome face. I fell asleep looking at him, studying every crevice, every hair, the mole on his cheek, and I never imagined that I would never see that face again.
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