She moved up before me, her own skirts swishing, and clutched at the layers of petticoats, lifting them. “She’s going to glow.”“You are such a...wicked husband, Sven,” I groaned as they exposed my legs. Then my rump. I found myself bending over anyways, that heat burning in my pussy. My face pressed into Greta’s cleavage. I rubbed my face into her soft breasts as my naked ass pressed into Sven’s crotch.I felt his cock tenting his pants. I groaned, rubbing my rump from side to side across his. As I looked around the room, everything started to come into focus. Thiswas my room - the room as I'd left it when I was Andrew. It had the samequeen mattress and box spring stacked on the floor, the same MacBook Proon the desk, the same dirty T-shirts strewn about - not even accountingfor the pile of clothes my mother had just left me to put away - and eventhe same Super Bowl poster on the wall. This was Andrew's room.And, once again, I was Andrew.The T-shirt my mother had tossed me was. More

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