Whisper By Janilmat

[xorg]

Whisper

Chapter 1

Author - Janilmat

Beginnings, that’s the most difficult thing for me – having to start all over again. Or having to start at all, I guess. Does it come down to self-love / self-confidence? You’d think that I have it in spades, but I don’t. I’m smart and successful, but somehow nobody sees it. Or maybe I don’t show it. Or maybe I’m just fed up with not being recognized so why the fuck try anyway. I could probably stand up on this bar right now, rip my shirt off and all they’d see are tits. Is it what I’m showing or is just what they want to see? How do I even start if nobody sees me? I just for once wish that…

“Ali! Hello, earth to Ali. Come in Ali.”

Who the fuck is yelling my name? Ahhh, Christine. “Jesus Christine, would you tone it down? I can’t hear myself think.”

“That’s the point, moron. You’re thinking too much. That’s why I brought you over this glass of juicy malbec. Give it a swirl, give it a whirl, tell me what you think girl!”

Thank God for Christine. “Lame-o. ‘give it a swirl, give it a whirl’? I hope you just made that up, cuz if you’re repeating that, I’ve lost all respect for you.”

“Bite me.”

“Don’t tempt me…” I mean really. She’s so fucking hot, and yet she’s so understated. No flash, but she sparkles. I guess it’s because I know what’s underneath. I just wish that people would see that in me. …right, that’s what I was about to wish for.

“Ali, do I even want to know what’s on your mind? No scratch that! I want to know what you’re contemplating in that pretty little head of yours.”

I can’t help but laugh, and I can see by the expression on her face that Christine’s I’ve just lost her. “Oh sweetheart, I’m just laughing at how perfect this all is. You see, I don’t know where to begin to even tell you what’s up. And that’s perfect cuz, I was thinking about beginnings, and well, how I don’t really know how to begin anything.”

I see the smile slowly start to creep in to the corners of Christine’s mouth. There’s this bit of recognition I see in her eyes as well. We’ve certainly been here before. For the hundredth time, no doubt. Only thing is, I don’t know what she’s going to say to me this time.

“Ali, you need some professional help. It’s one thing to sit down here, as two beautiful women, discussing our issues, but I don’t know how to help you out of your funk. I’d like to be able to help, but I think I can only support you in the only way I know, and that’s to get you drunk and get you laid.”

Yep. Been down this road before. Although the professional help bit is new. I’ll have to think about that one. I just don’t know how much I want to open up to someone. How much do I want someone to see the real me? Ahhh… Therein lies the rub, I want someone to see the real me, and that scares the shit out of me.

“Okay Christine, drunk and laid sounds like it will work for me.” Uh-oh, I don’t like the look on her face. Is she mad at me?

“You’re such a pushover. Drunk and laid are easy. What about the professional help? Would you at least think about it?”

And I know she’s right. Drunk and laid are easy and also hard. Much easier when Christine’s around. That’s when guys gather like moths to a flame. But again, who to let in? And you can just forget about it when Christine’s not around. Beginnings. How to start? How to maintain?

“Look Chris, you’re right. Drunk and laid are easy, and I’m just fucking tired of easy. Where’s the god-damned challenge in that? I could fuck anybody I wanted to in here, but so-fucking-what? They’re too easy. I could just sit here looking smoking hot … and I am sitting here looking smoking hot … and guys are going to trip over their tongues on their way over here. And then what? They’ll buy me a drink? Throw me some lame-ass lines? Expect me to fall all over them? BORING! It’s all so fake. I’m so fake. Don’t get me wrong, I love the sex. Love it! I just hate all the shit that comes with it.”

“Well, I’m glad to see that you’ve got some fire in there after all kiddo. No shit it’s boring. I, for one, don’t care about that, but I know that you do. And I’m really glad to hear you finally get that off of your beautiful chest. Sure part of it’s fake, and how could you not feel just a little bit empty knowing that you don’t get to share the full package.”

I want to explain myself further, but Christine puts her hand up. I can see that she’s really pondering something. I just hope she doesn’t keep on with the “professional help” sales pitch. I turn to the bar, and look at the glass of malbec. It looks juicy, and juicy sounds appealing to me right now. I notice that I’m feeling a little jittery, and wonder why the hell that is. Could be that I’m approaching the edge of the unknown…

“Okay, Ali. I’ve thought long and hard about this, so I don’t want you to think that – “

“Hey can I buy you to lovely ladies a drink?” comes from behind us. God-damned interruption. I’m so pissed off that I could fucking kill this guy!

“Hey sugar,” says Christine to this guy, “my friend and I appreciate the offer, but we’re in the midst of a heart-to-heart. We’re not ready to join in with – “

“Tim. My name is Tim. And you are?”

Christine reaches out and places her hand on his forearm. “Tim, as I was saying, we are not ready to join in with the festivities just yet. We’ll wave you over later or something.” Tim reluctantly departs, but not without catching the bartender and buying our next round.

Christine leans in to me and resumes her train of thought, although I’m still a little pissed at the intrusion. “Right, so as I was saying earlier: I’ve been thinking about how you’re feeling, and I’m about to do something that I’ve never done before. I have someone you need to meet. Now before you even begin to protest – and don’t think that I didn’t hear that groan by the way – I’ve never introduced him to anyone. You see, he’s my treasure. I haven’t told anyone about him, ever. And come to think of it, I’m not going to tell you all that much. You’re just going to have to find out for yourself. You, my friend, need more challenges, and this will be perfect for you. Don’t thank me now, cuz you will be doing that plenty later on.”

“Okay, I’m intrigued, to say the least. And a challenge – we’ll see.”

“Off the table,” she retorts.

“What?”

“I said, ‘[he’s] off the table.’ Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Sorry. Look, I’m so desperate that I’m going to grovel.”

“Pathetic,” she says. Don’t I know it.

“Ali, we need to get you out of this funk. I’ll put him back on the table if you can abide to have fun and at least be curious. Can you do that? And can you do that without badgering me?”

“Yes.” Not that I had to think long and hard about that.

“Good. Now then, shall we find out what kind of action and adventure awaits us tonight?” With that, she smoothly shifts her position on the bar stool, and announces her presence to bar. She really knows how to work that body, and in essence the room itself. God, how I wish that I could do that as easily as she does.

I can’t help but be mesmerized by Chris. If the opportunity presented itself, I would just watch her all day long. That would be my lesson: to learn how to know what I want and then get it when I want it. Chris does that so well. I suppose that’s why it’s more of a mentoring relationship than one of us being peers. Then there’s the fact that she introduced me to this scene. I feel like just a rookie.

I take another sip of wine, and wonder about Chris. She’s so smoothe, and it’s no act. If you don’t constellate around her in some harmonious fashion, your shit’s to the curb. She’ll tell you where you went astray, and if there’s no remorse on your part, you better find another galaxy cuz there ain’t room for you in hers.

I catch myself looking at her in a lingering kind of way. Mesmerized. That’s what I thought a moment ago. I love the way she arches her back – especially in that tight black dress. I’m dying to place my hand in the small of her back – in that most sacred of spaces just above her ass. This is one of those things I want, so why not move forward and just do it? I move the wine glass to my other hand, shift my weight just a little, and slowly move my open palm to that spot that’s just begging to be touched. The electricity starts to build the closer that I get, and I notice that Chris starts to extend her spine upwards while maintaining that beautiful arch. My hand hovers just for a moment, and I can feel the energy pulling me in. Contact. Electricity. Breath. I’m not breathing! There it is take the breath. Holy shit! How long have been holding my breath? Chris leans back into my hand, twists just a bit, drops her chin ever so slightly, and just looks at me with those smiling eyes of hers.

“That feels sooo hot,” she whispers. “How about we head out, grab a bottle of wine, and head over to my place?”

How many times I’ve wished to hear that, and here it is! I smile at her and tell her that I’d love to. We don’t even touch the glasses of wine that Tim bought us, and we make our way toward the door. Christine grabs my hand for a slight detour, and I can see that she’s approaching Tim. She stops right in front of him, and with her free hand she grabs the back of his neck. She pulls herself in to his neck, gives him a little kiss there, and then whispers into his ear. With that she turns and leads me outside. I look back and see his shit-eating grin getting bigger by the moment.

“Well, what did you say to him? After you released him, he looked like the cat that ate the canary.”

“All I said was, ‘Raincheck.’ And if I never see him again, I at least sprinkled him with some hope.” Nice. We could all use a little hope now and again.

We hop into Christine’s rental car for a short ride over to her place, which is actually the hotel that we’re staying at. We’re both here for the same conference, but we’ve been doing more playing than attending the actual conference. Not that I’m complaining, but I feel a little bad to come out to Portland to not attend the conference.

“Ali, could you call down to room service and have them send up a bottle of wine while I slip into something more comfortable?” With that, I’m a little anxious about her stripping without me. Plus I want to see her in that dress a little longer. There’s just something about fantasizing what’s underneath that really turns me on.

“No, don’t change just yet. I haven’t had a chance to fully appreciate you in that dress, and you really want me to appreciate you in that dress!”

Christine looks at me kind of funny for a moment, and then lets out the biggest burst of a laugh. She runs over to me, gets down on all fours, and looks up my dress. She maintains her laughing until tears are running down her cheeks. Her laughter is a bit contagious, so I start to laugh a bit. Once she seems fit to tell me what caused her to laugh, she begins: “I was a bit taken back by you saying no to me, and I was a little pissed at first. Then, I was pretty excited because you said no. Then this hysterical thought hit me, so I had to check it out.”

“So, I’m missing the punch line – “

“I thought, ‘About time she got some balls’, so I had to peek and see what was under the hood…”

We both laugh some more, and it feels damn good. She asks, “Whatta ya want to do, kiddo?”

“Like I said, ‘I want to appreciate you in that fucking dress.’ So how about if we go downstairs to the club attached to this hotel, and just get all hot and bothered. Then we can come up here and get all hot and bothered. Just the two of us.”

“Sounds good to me. Just let me freshen up a bit.”

The club is hoppin’ and though Chris and I get hit on pretty often, we manage to keep things to ourselves. That is, notwithstanding another hot woman or two moving in and out of our groove. Mostly though, it’s just Chris and I partnered up. And I make good on my promise – I really appreciate her in that dress. I really can’t keep my hands off of her. Nothing too obvious mind you – no groping her T or A. Slips here and there in those spots are welcome. Her ass grinding is phenomenal! She really knows how to move her ass, and I just keep my hands on those beautiful hips to pull her back in. Although my hands are all over, I feel myself letting go. The music is thumping through my body, my eyes move in and out of focus with the sequenced lighting; I can smell her perfume, and her sweat. I feel the sweat running down my back. My brow is wet, and little droplets fall into my eyes every now and then. I’m feeling a bit altered, and my body is just movin’ to the groovin’. Chris is grinding that beautiful ass of hers into my crotch, and I’m just flowin’ with her! I take my hands off her hips and spin her ‘round to face me. Her eyes are closed, and she’s still dancing. I look at that delectable body of hers, and I just want her right now. I step in to her, and we find our rhythm again. The heat’s cranking, and I’m just getting wetter by the moment. I can’t stand the tension anymore, so I grab Chris and lay a big juicy kiss on her. I feel her melt a little as we continue the kiss. She opens her eyes ever so slightly as we still remain lip-locked. I notice our rhythm has changed, and we’re now every so softly simulating sex in the middle of the dance floor. I really don’t give a fuck who sees us. And I realize that I’m continuing to let go. Christine pulls away very gently and indicates that she’s ready to move upstairs.

We hold hands all the way up the elevator, and I can feel my body is still in tempo with the club music. My ears have a slight ringing to them, and I imagine that Christine’s does as well. When we finally reach our floor, we have to walk only a few short steps to our room. Christine opens the door, and I follow. Again I’m just mesmerized. I can’t believe that I’m here with such a hottie.

“Bottle of wine?,” she asks.

“I’m good. Get one if you want one.”

“Nah. That’s not want I really want in my mouth.” She smiles that seductive smile of hers, and I’m hooked. I move in closer and plant another kiss on her lips. It’s a kiss that seems to last forever, and breaks at just the right time. She pushes away, and opens the curtains to a spectacular view of the Portland skyline. I move over to the door and dim the lights. When I turn back to the window, there she is dancing beautifully. It hits me how erotic it is to only be able to make out her silhouette. Again, I’m mesmerized.

The spell is broken by a crack of lightning that causes me to jump and then laugh. I slowly walk across the room and place myself behind Chris. She’s still moving her body to her own music as I pull the zipper down the back of her dress. Softly my right hand slips under her right shoulder strap as my left hand does the same to her left shoulder strap. I’m about to burst as I am so excited to unwrap Christine from the confines of her dress. She starts to sway a bit, and with each sway the bodice begins to fall away with my gentle nudges. As the dress bunches at her waist, her hands move to her hips where she uses them to help her shimmy out of the dress. I back up just a little to watch her undress, and I notice that she’s still wearing her heels. I imagine that the heels are giving her just the right amount of lift to make her beautiful ass even more spectacular. As the dress moves down, I see that she’s wearing a black thong. It just frames that spectacular ass in the right way. As much as I want to jump her right now, I move back even further to watch her dance as she kicks off her dress.

The thing that amazes me the most is not how damn sexy she is, but that it’s my friend Anthony in there being damn sexy. Yes, that’s right, Anthony. He happens to be my body hopping mentor. Although he prefers to be referred to as body hopping sponsor.

I totally appreciate Anthony helping me out. You see, the guy who initiated me into the world of hoppers was not very forthcoming about how to navigate the special gift of being able to hop. Fuck, I spent a whole week in one mount because I didn’t know how the hell to dismount. Now I do, thanks to Anthony. He’s been teaching me about the importance of staying in character, and it’s certainly added a level of spice to our mounts. Even though Ali and Christine are normally straight as an arrow, we do take the occasional poetic license – well more times than not. But when I’m in the mount, I AM the mount. Right now I’m not Jeff in Ali, I’m Ali. Anthony in Christine? That’s all Christine. That we’re totally into each other? Again Ali and Christine, at least for tonight anyway. One never knows what might present itself tomorrow…

The rain starts up, and the streets below start to glisten with the reflected city lights. As rain starts to collect on our window, a kaleidoscope of the city forms. I slip out of my dress, and let my hair down. I’ve been waiting for this all night. One step, another, almost there.

“Care to dance, Love?” …and we do. We continue where we left off on the last dance floor, although the rhythm has changed. It’s no longer the “thump, thump, thump” of the club. It’s our own ballad, and we’re moving just right with each other. The tempo changes as we move closer to the warm, soft bed that we collapse into. My senses start to return to normal after the club. I feel her tenderness as she explores my body. I stop breathing through my mouth and take in her scent… Yes, there she is, her scent is intoxicating. Christine brings her lips achingly slowly up my body, and rests herself on my neck. Her breath is hot on my neck, and even more hot as she whispers in my ear what she wants. There’s nothing quite like having Christine whisper in my ear. I swear that I she brings me to the brink of orgasm every damn time. She’s cooled down a bit from earlier, but I can taste her sweat as we move in a rhythm available only to us…

[xorg]

Chapter 2

So, for me, the best part about being a hopper is that I can be literally anyone. It was totally a fantasy come true when I learned of this precious gift. If I really trace it back, it goes back way into my childhood. I can remember wanting to be a family member of the sitcom families that I saw on tv. Not just a family member, but the characters themselves. How I longed to have the loving siblings and parents that were on those shows. Anything would have been better than growing up in my family. Pretty much, nobody saw me for who I was. My father tried in vain to mold me in his image, and my mother smothered the hell out of me. My older sister pretty much ignored me, because I garnered whatever attention she had once had as an only child. Not a very encouraging environment in which self-esteem could be built.

As I got older, I was really into disguises. I imagined how cool it would be to be able to disguise myself as anyone. Any type of cartoon caper or comic that had a disguised villain or hero was tops in my book. Then came puberty and blossoming sexual energy. A strange journey in and of itself, but add a layer of seeing a Judy Garland female impersonator for the first time, and it was instant erection! Men disguising as women, and looking great while doing it?! Hello! Sign me up! How perfect would that be for me? But how could I do it? Magic? Not likely. Masks and bodysuits? Only a dream. Holograms? Physical touch would give that away. Possession? I’m still alive, and not a demon to boot.

Although I never had the method for transformation, I could still dream. And dreamed I did. What would it be like to disguise myself as a beautiful woman? They have so much power! Men falling at their feet! Sugar-daddies! Privilege! Wealth! Opportunity! Ahh, to be a beautiful woman and have power over someone else for a change. To be able to fool someone into believing that I’m the beautiful woman that I appear to be would give me even more power. I know something that you don’t dear boyfriend. Somebody’s getting fucked here, and it’s not me!

Take what happened after the conference the next day. Christine tracked down Tim (the interrupter) from the night before. He fell all over us at the bar the next night. And ya know, we paid him in spades. He tried to wrangle one of his friends into our triumvirate, and we did our best to keep Tim’s friend on the edge of the unknown. Call us teases if you will, but look at it from our perspective. Tim’s friends will exalt him for weeks to come as the man who scored the two hotties that one night. Plus we did rock his world on the dance floor, oh and the taxi ride back. He also was the envy of every lone businessman at the hotel bar. We wanted to build his confidence and make sure that he was seen with one of us on each arm. When we got him up to the room, we took our sweet time. And God bless him, he let us lead the way. We even employed some creative camera shots with his camera phone so that our faces were never shown. My personal favorite was dismounting from Ali after Tim finally passed out and getting some face shots for our hero Tim. Anthony hopped out of Christine, and we got Tim some face shots of her too. We hope that he’ll be pleasantly surprised when he finds those pictures on his camera.

So you see, I was an emotional pauper who now gets to spread the wealth. How I wish someone would have done that with me. I guess that’s why I love the hopping so much.

And yet, there’s this little nagging voice that reminds me that I’m not the one really being paid attention to. It’s all the different faces that I wear. Those are the people who are being paid attention, not me. How do I get paid attention to? How can I repair this old wound?

“Ali! Come on sweetheart, we’ve gotta get dressed and get to the airport.” Right, the airport. Anthony always has some tricks up his sleeve to get us from city to city without ever having to pay for it. Daytona, New York, Paris, St. Maarten, New Orleans, Honolulu… I’ll have to pay more attention to how he does it.

“Where are we off to this time, Anthony?” I ask him using his name for the first time in a week. It seems appropriate because our time in Ali and Christine is winding down. We’ll get them to the airport so they don’t miss their flight, and that’s possibly where the next adventure begins.

“Well, we’re off to the Bay area.”

“Which bay numb-nuts?”

“That would be the San Francisco Bay area douche-bag.”

“Bitch.”

“Jeff, you won’t be calling me bitch once we get there. I’ll tell you more once we get on the plane.”

We get to the airport with it seems like hours before Ali and Christine need to board their plane. It helps for them to come to their senses after we dismount so that they can board their plane on their own. For us it doesn’t really matter because we can take any airline we want no matter what the schedule. We just need to find our mounts. This is where Anthony shines. He’s done this so many times that I swear he must have some sixth sense about who’s going where we want to be. This time around he finds us a newlywed couple. I find this out when the couple approaches me and I see Anthony in the man’s wife.

“Ali! It is you! I was just telling Brandon that I thought you looked familiar. Remember me from UCSC? Amy Matthews, well as of yesterday Amy Taylor.”

“Amy. Yes, now I remember. I don’t think that we ran in the same social circle, but I do remember having a girl-crush on you.” I want to see if I can make Anthony blush, but it’s Brandon who does the blushing. “Brandon, nice to meet you, and congratulations to both of you. Let me guess, you’re off to San Francisco?”

“How did you know?” asks Brandon. Just to play with him a little, I just say that I guessed since they probably need an international airport for a foreign honeymoon destination.

Amy invites us to sit together while we wait for our respective flights, and I need to find a place to mount Brandon. This will be more challenging that Anthony’s hop, which I imagine he did in the lady’s room. I’m a little pissed at Anthony for giving me the more challenging mount, but he knows that I love challenges. I also want to do this fairly quickly since I don’t want the newly unhopped Christine running in to me while I’m still occupying Ali.

I’m on the look-out for a discrete and private place to dismount and re-mount, and my prospects don’t look too good. We settle on a little restaurant that’s not too crowded at 10:30 am. I tip the hostess a $20.00 bill for the big booth way in the back, and let her know that we just want some privacy for old friends to catch up with each other. Fortunately, it’s one on those round booths so that Anthony and I can sit on either side of Brandon. We order some coffee and pastries as Amy and I catch up with one another. I’m scoping out methods for my way in to Brandon when my phone rings. I can see from the caller ID that it’s Christine, who I’m sure has a zillion questions. I’m not ready to go there with her, and turn the ringer off. I accidentally drop my phone under the table as I try to stuff it back into Ali’s purse. Of all the dumb luck…

“Fuck, I just dropped my phone. Brandon, can you help me reach it? I think it’s behind your feet under the bench.” As he heads under the table, I give Anthony a quick wink, who replies with some exaggerated eye-rolling. I dive under the table after Brandon, and start my dismount. I take him completely by surprise and he bucks for some time as the process of the mounting takes place. Fortunately, his loving wife Amy, my buddy Anthony, users her leverage on his rounded back to keep him under the table. It does stir up quite a commotion, and draws the waitress over. I can hear Amy tell the waitress very sweetly that we’re rummaging around for a dropped phone. To confirm the story, I pop Brandon’s head up and tell her that I found it. However, this leaves the semi-comatose body of Ali under the table. Once the waitress turns her heels, I pull Ali up from under the table and place her in a position in which she’s lying down across the booth bench with her head in my lap. I stroke her silky auburn hair.

“Married for less than 24 hours and you’ve already got some slut.” Amy spits out at me.

I look at her for about a second, and play right along. “Honey, it’s not what you think.”

“It’s not, is it? Well, let me tell you something Brandon: I think you must be bored with me and that you’re starting to stray. So, I’m going to take every opportunity I have to keep you interested in me.” With that she places her hand on my cock and gives a nice squeeze. She leans in and whispers, “Mile high club to kick off the honeymoon? It’ll have to be a quickie since it’s a short flight.”

We left Ali curled up on the booth with her cell phone ringer on high and vibrate so that she’ll wake up the next time Christine attempts to call her. Amy and I quietly slip out of the restaurant and walk hand-in-hand to our gate. For all intents and purposes, we look like a newlywed couple on the way to their honeymoon. And with Amy nibbling the fuck out of my ear, I damn well feel like a newlywed couple.

I must say that I also see the brilliance in Anthony’s selection of our mounts. They actually have more than just a layover in San Francisco, they’ll be spending a couple of nights there at the St. Francis, so it makes our dismounting that much more easy. Like I said before, he’s a master with that uncanny knack of finding the right hop. That we’ll be usurping their nights in San Francisco, I’m a little uneasy about. Christ, it’s their honeymoon. Hopefully for them this will be their only one, and I just don’t think that I can be a part of taking it over from them.

Once we’re settled on the plane, Anthony begins to inform me of his San Francisco scheme. Before he can lay it out, I throw some caution to the wind and tell him how uneasy that I am to take over Brandon and Amy’s honeymoon. Though I can tell he’s a little disappointed since he was hoping for lots of honeymoon sex, he will abide by wish to dismount when we can and turn their trip back over to them.

“Kiddo, you’ve got some weird ethics every now and then. I mean, here’s our opportunity to kick back and relax for a few days in SF, at the most primo hotel , and yet you’ll just let it slip away so Amy and Brandon can have their own honeymoon memories. You’re always thinking about someone else. How about thinking about yourself for a change?”

“Sweetheart… Here’s something for me: I want you to take that blanket, spread it across our laps, and give me a hand-job.”

“What?! No mile-high club in the aft bathroom? You selfish prick!”

“Hey now, what happened to thinking about myself for a change?”

“That doesn’t count when it comes to me!” And with that, Anthony displays the biggest pout face he can muster up in Amy’s body.

“Cutie-pie,” I say, “I’ve never made it to the mile-high club. Don’t think that I’ll miss that one. Especially with you! I know who butters my bread…”

“Aww… Honey we had our first honeymoon fight. I can’t wait for the make-up sex!”, she purrs in my ear. God I love when she does that. “But first, the San Francisco plan. Do you want to know now, or let it unfold before your very eyes?” I’m feeling like an unknown journey would certainly perk me up, so I opt to let it unfold. Her devilish gleam is both exciting and a tad anxiety producing. What am I about to get myself into?

My beautiful bride slips something out of her purse and then covers herself up with the blanket. She seems to be squirming around quite a bit, and then her squirms become more rhythmic. Then it dawns on me what she’s doing. “Are you masturbating sweetheart?,” I ask her. “Couldn’t you wait?”

She slows down a bit, opens her eyes, and turns her head to me. “Have you ever fucked in a plane’s bathroom before? I thought not. Lesson number 317: always carry a bottle of lube when flying. 1. It allows for easier penetration, as you know, because 2. There’s not much room in there for foreplay, 3. the bathroom soap sucks as a lube, 4. we want quick and easy penetration, and most importantly, 5. while you may blow your load in there, I may not. So, I’m going to orgasm now, so that maybe, just maybe, we can come together in the 5 to 10 minute window that we’ll be in there.” And with that, she returns to masturbating. God, why didn’t I think of that? I guess because I haven’t been there yet.

I lift up the armrest that’s between us, and motion for her to lean in to me. I grab another blanket and wrap her torso with it. We readjust slightly so that I can place my arm under the blanket, across her shoulders and place my hand over her breast. I knead it ever so gently, and once her nipples come to life I place my thumb and forefinger and give her a continuous rhythmic twist. Amy picks up her pace and after some time I feel her orgasm course through her body. Once her breathing returns to a slightly elevated pace, she grabs my hand and says, “Let’s go tiger!”

We make our way back to the bathroom, and I suddenly feel self-conscious. I imagine that everyone knows what we’re about to do. Then it dawns on me that who cares? They don’t see me at all. They see some guy named Brandon. And Brandon is a big fucking stud who could give a shit what other people think. Wow! Talk about brain re-wiring in less than 10 seconds…

When we get to the rear galley, Amy motions for me to wait a minute, and then come to the door. In the meanwhile, I start to work myself up to a throbbing cock. This is not too difficult as I’m excited as hell to join the prestigious mile-high club. I open the door after a quick knock, and slip inside. Amy’s got her sundress hiked up to her shoulders, and her thong moved to the side. “How is she?,” I ask. “How’s who?,” she replies. “It’s me, your wife, Amy, and I’m all juiced up and ready to initiate you!” Right, the role play… She slowly bends over and places her hands against the wall. I spit in my hand and with a few quick strokes I’ve given my cock some homemade lube. I have to bend my knees just a little to get myself in the right position, and rub my head against her dripping moist lips. A slight bump, forces me into her and I realize that this is not some slow seduction. The elements are against us, so I attempt to ease in as much as possible. Definitely not easy. Once I can feel the full lubrication of my cock with her lube and juices, I start the motion. God, she’s so warm and juicy! Ah, she’s into Kegel exercises, that’s nice…. 1-2-3 squeeze…. Oops another air pocket… I grab both of her hips for more leverage. There it is, getting deeper. Sweeeeet…. Here are my Kegels sweetheart….

Amy’s got her own little mantra going over and over, “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” and then a kegel. I appreciate her hands against the wall as it offers her some leverage and stability. But why the hell am I thinking that? Fuck her, fuck her, fuck her, squeeeeze….

There’s a knock on the door, and we both say “Occupied!” and then laugh hysterically. Whoops! More than one person in there.

I can feel my orgasm rising, and I shift ever so slightly so as to not come just yet. “I’m ready sweetheart, where are you at?” Just a minute she replies. So I take my left hand and stick it in my mouth to get it good and wet and then I start flicking her clitoris. “That’s it lover-boy. Uhn, Uhn, uhn…” I feel it starting to build within her, and bring my attention back to my cock. I shift again, feel the friction, rejoin the dance, feel light-headed, and release. She follows a few moments later. Not much of a post-bliss moment in an airplane lavatory. I look in the mirror at the usual awkward site of me and Anthony in some form of embrace. But what I see this time shocks the hell out of me.

“Amy! What’s happened to your face?!”

“Huh? Jesus Christ kid, you scared the fuck out of me! For a minute there I thought that you were really Brandon, and that you could see my real face.”

“What?! I’m confused. I thought that you were really Amy because I can really see her face and not yours. What the fuck is going on?”

“Tell you what kid. Let’s get cleaned up, and I’ll tell you what I know when we get back to our seats.”

On our way back to our seats, we ask the flight attendant for a double bloody mary and a double gin and tonic. They arrive shortly after we do.

“So what gives Anthony? How come I can’t see your face? How come I can only see Amy’s face? Are we having a bad hop? Is there such a thing? Do some hops just fuck you up?”

“Slow down, I ain’t the fuckin’ Shell answer man. No there’s no trouble with these hops. They’re just like any other hops – no big deal – nothing special. This happens sometimes…”

“What happens sometimes? Are you stuck in her? Can you get out?”

“Jesus Christ, ‘Brandon’! Take a fucking chill pill. There’s no problem. Just hold your questions and listen. Can you do that? Good.” I fill my mouth with a pull from my G & T instead of filling it with questions. “Okay, sometimes this happens to me, and I’m going to stress ‘me’ here. Occasionally I have the ability to hide the “tell” so to speak. I don’t always know when it’s going to happen, and what exactly causes it. I mean, I have some ideas, but nothing I want to get into just yet. Are you with me so far?,” he asks.

“Yes, I have some questions, but I can wait.”

“Good boy. Now, as I was saying. This doesn’t happen all the time – only occasionally. It freaked the hell out of me the first time it happened. You know the reaction – where’d my fuckin’ face go?! I asked my sponsor about it when it first happened. He said that I was pretty fucking lucky. Not everyone has experienced ‘loss of face’. He heard of some hoppers who mastered the ability to hide their real face. Hidden from the other hoppers. Can you imagine? He even told me about one guy who would wake up his mount once inside of her. I don’t know the circumstances, but that seems pretty risky to me.

So, long story short, my friend. Funky things happen. I imagine that most hoppers don’t pay attention to these extra gifts because they’re usually too busy getting’ their rocks off. And if they do notice, they probably attribute it to whatever they’ve been partying on – drugs, alcohol, you name it.”

We sit together in silence for a long time. I don’t quite know how to digest this new information. I mean, I never thought that I’d hop people, and yet here I am doing it. What else is possible?

Anthony’s face is back, to my relief. “So you had some questions, Hon-?,” he asks.

“Well, what’s the point of questions that can’t really be answered? Are you curious about being able to master this ability? What would you do if you did? I don’t know I’m just rambling on.”

“How old are you kid? Mid-twenties? I’m forty five and I have no idea how this all works – how life works – how hopping works. I’ve learned that you can’t know everything, that you can’t prepare for anything. I’m not being a defeatist here. I’m being a realist. I have no control over what happens. I can only make choices about what presents itself to me. Hopefully they’ll be somewhat informed decisions, but not always. Capisce?” I see that Anthony’s presenting me with Zen and the Art of Body-hopping. At least his take.

“You side-stepped my question there.” I mean, come on, I want to know what he’s going to do.

“Well, I didn’t answer it how you wanted me to. Yes, no, maybe, I don’t know. Take your pick. Let’s turn that question around. How does my decision about me concern you? What will you get from my answer? Truly, my answer is not important to you. How would you answer that same question for yourself? Are you curious about having that ability? What would you do if you had it?” Not exactly the response that I was expecting from Anthony. Not really the one that I was wanting either. I’m a little pissed off that he won’t answer my question, and yet his throwing the question back at me really gives me some food for thought.

Amy finishes her bloody mary, lets down the tray on the empty seat next to her and puts her plastic cup on it, and puts her tray in the up position. She puts the armrest between her and the empty seat up as well, and twists herself around so that her feet are on the empty seat. She then lowers the front of her torso to the front of mine so that her back is to the seat in front of me. She snuggles in like a cat trying to get comfortable on a lap. Amy tips her head back a bit and looks at me for quite a while. Although I see Anthony’s face, I kind of wish it was Amy’s face. “Penny for your thoughts slugger…”

“Well… You feel like a duck, you sound like a duck, you smell like a duck, you certainly fucked like a duck, but I kind of wish you looked completely like a duck. I didn’t know that that was even possible until twenty minutes ago. I guess that I want the full illusion. Hell, I want to be able to do what you did. No more hiding from camera phones, mirrors, reflective glass…” I trail off in thought again.

The rest of flight was nothing to write home about. Anthony did have a surprise for me when we landed at SFO. He called ahead for a limo pickup at the airport. Well, a town-car was more like it. Still, it’s really nice not having to rely on a shuttle or taxi to get anywhere. I’ll have to remember this for future travel. Anthony’s such a pro, and I have so much to learn from him. I just hope that he doesn’t tire of me…

From arrival through check-in through actually being in the room at the St. Francis was smooth as silk. Our room wasn’t exactly the honeymoon suite, but we did have a spectacular view of the city. It wasn’t my first time in San Francisco, but I’m amazed every time I return. This time has to be tops. Anthony was right, this hotel is primo! And this is exactly why I don’t want to take over Brandon and Amy’s stay here.

“Kiddo, how about we switch up? I thought that you’d might enjoy a little go in Amy here. You know, have a bath, get cleaned up, get dirty again. You know the drill.”

“Jeez, you make it so romantic. But you know that does sound good to me. I still don’t want to take over their honeymoon. I was hoping that we could set them up with a nice dinner somewhere, find another hop, and let them enjoy their stay. That’s what would work for me.” I hope that he can hear that without hearing it as nagging.

“Dude… I’ve got it covered. We’ll dismount by four o’clock maybe five o’clock the latest, and we’ll each have someone to hop into ready and waiting for us. No worries, huh?”

“Aww, it’s so cute when you call me dude. Okay, let’s do it.”

Once we settle things up and we exchange our hops, I ended up having the most incredible bubble-bath. The tub was huge! It really helped that Anthony set me up with some candles and some really soothing music. He dallied a bit in the main room; I imagine getting things ready for our replacement hops, and dinner for the two honeymooners. We ended up having sex only the one time in the afternoon. I must say that it wasn’t as exhilarating as on the plane, but it was fun none-the-less!

I guess what I’m actually discovering for myself is that I love sex, but most importantly I love sharing it with someone who actually considers me in the relationship. Take Anthony for example. He’s phenomenal in the sack. Not because he’s all about the orgasm – it’s because he’s attentive to whomever he’s with. He makes everyone feel at ease. He’ll make sure that you’re comfortable – that it feels good for you. He doesn’t press his agenda upon you. It really is a dance with him, sometimes he leads, and sometimes you lead. Not to be all air-fairy, but it’s truly an organic process that unfolds from moment to moment. I really like that.

As we bask in out post-sex bliss, I feel so fortunate to be here. I can feel my heart beating strong, and my breath returning to normal. I love the smell of the crisp sheets, the bubble-bath that’s still lingering on my skin (although I’m in Amy, it feels like my skin), and the musky smell of sex that occasionally wafts up from beneath the sheets. And that I’m in the arms of someone that really cares for me is the bonus special. Or is this just an illusion that I’m falling for? The role play? Maybe I just can’t trust myself. Maybe I just need to stop hopping and feel it for myself. Fucking Doubt! Goddamned ambivalence! What the hell is real?

“You’re heads burning, kiddo. I can feel it going a mile a minute. Care to share?” Ugh. How the hell did I get to be so transparent.

“The fucking usual: ambivalence and doubt. Is this real? Are you real? Am I real? What’s really happening here? Can I even trust how good this feels? When’s the other shoe going to drop? I’m just fucking sick and tired…” I just blurt out totally uncensored.

Anthony turns Brandon’s body toward mine, and he moves in for the spoon. He hooks his arm underneath mine, and put’s Brandon’s hand between my breasts – just over my heart, really. He holds me there until it seems like our breath synchs with each other. But kind of the opposite effect – his out breath to my in breath. It feels very soothing to me, and I notice that I start to bring my awareness more to this feeling than my thoughts.

“Listen kiddo, I don’t know what it was like for you growing up, but I have a pretty good idea that you probably didn’t get appropriate attention from your family. And I personally think that that’s a fucking shame, cuz they missed out on what an amazing person you are. Hell kid, I really like you. I just don’t hang around with anybody. I hang out with you cuz you’re fucking brilliant, and creative, and fun. I may tease you about your ethics, but I really admire you for them. Most hoppers could really give a fuck about who they hop. They steal money, they abuse their mounts’ bodies, get people fired, do all kinds of mean nasty shit, and then just dump them. No fucking remorse. Maybe that’s the kind of shit your family did to you, because you just won’t engage in that stupid shit. I really admire how you care about people, about your mounts. I mean just look at where we are right now. Brandon and Amy on their honeymoon. I know how much it means for you to let them have it themselves, and I really respect you for that. And by the way, they’ll be having dinner at the Slanted Door with a great view of the Bay at sunset. You have heart kid, and it’s contagious. I like that about you.”

We lay there for some time, as I’m trying to find a place for that to land. And I can tell that it’s landing somewhere within me, because my eyes are getting moist. Anthony moves just a little so that he can place his mouth next to my ear. I know because I can feel the warmth of his breath caressing my ear. He ever so gently whispers into my ear: “You’re so special, you can do anything.” I feel the hot tears rolling down Amy’s cheeks.