Office Party - Part 2

When it was time to leave, Megan and I exchanged nervous glances before heading to our respective homes.

I decided to take a long walk back to her place, as I wasn't really comfortable with being in Megan's body, squeezed together with other late-night party goers on public transport. My heart was pounding. This was a terrifying experience, but, at the same time, I was utterly fascinated by it.

As I walked through the streets, I noticed how the world looked different from this height and angle. I could feel the sway of Megan's much wider hips with every step.

I stopped for a moment to catch my breath and gazed up at the sky above me. My wife would kill me if she found out I had this girl's body all to myself. It was hard to ignore the feeling of Megan's silky clothing rubbing against her skin as I walked towards her apartment. I felt weirdly ...soft. And small.

But I couldn't be attracted to my co-worker's body, no matter how curious and exciting the experience was –I wouldn't let it change who I was or how I viewed our friendship. When I finally arrived at Megan's apartment, I took a deep breath and unlocked the door, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

As I walked around Megan's apartment, I couldn't help but feel a sense of ownership and intimacy with the space, even though it wasn't mine. I ran my fingers over Megan's furniture and decorations, noticing the way her body moved as I did so. I was exploring her world.

Maybe it was my drunkenness, but I knew I had to cop a feel. 

But as I reached down to touch Megan's breasts, I hesitated. This was wrong. I couldn't do this to her, to my wife, to myself. I quickly pulled away, feeling ashamed and guilty. I looked around me at the darkened room. I was alone. I gulped. I reached for my chest again.

This time, I didn't stop myself. The sensation of soft, full flesh against my hand sent shivers of excitement down my spine. My heart was pounding. I squeezed and caressed with Megan's flesh, marveling at the softness of her breasts. I felt the texture of her flesh under my hand—the smooth curve of her left breast, then the tight pinch of her nipple as I let go and slid to the right breast. The sensation sent shivers of excitement down my spine. I wasn't supposed to be enjoying this. I was married. I couldn't betray my wife, but I couldn't stop either. My heart was pounding in my ears.

This wasn't wrong, I reminded myself in a moment of rationalization.

It's okay to touch yourself.