My mother had been friends with Anna for years. Sure, she was pretty, but I never paid much attention to that. After all, I was much more preoccupied with girls my own age.
I let his hands explore my body. Anna's body. It was strange to be experiencing these sensations from the perspective of a woman, but I couldn't deny that it was also incredibly thrilling.
As we explored each other's bodies, I felt a dissonance inside of me that I couldn't quite understand. It felt like I was becoming Anna, like our two identities were merging and blurring together. On the one hand, it was a breathtaking sensation, but on the other, it made me anxious and scared.
I wasn't gay, and I was certainly not a woman. And yet, here I was, in the body of a woman, enjoying sex with her husband.
"Oh god! Fuck me, husband," I moaned, "Give it to me."
I couldn't even process the full implications of the situation, because it felt so good. I closed my eyes and moaned, feeling his cock thrusting in and out of me, his lips on my neck. He grabbed my breasts and squeezed them, and I could tell that he was on the verge of cumming.
"Do it," I said, feeling tingly, "Fill my pussy with your cum!"
He thrust inside me again and again, his hips rocking against mine in perfect rhythm as we approached our climax together. As he held me tightly in his arms, whispering intimate words of love into my ear, I knew that this was something special; something that would stay with me forever.
He moaned, and I felt his cock spasm as he came. I gasped as the warmness of his cum filled me.
But I was overcome with clarity shortly after. I wasn't really a woman. I wasn't ...Anna. And I had just had sex with her husband!
I suddenly felt embarrassed; what were we doing? How could I be so impulsive?
I quickly grabbed my towel and wrapped it around myself before turning to look at him. Before I could speak, he touched my cheek tenderly and said: "You are amazing."
Was I? I certainly didn't feel amazing. I thought about what would happen if Anna found out what we did. Would that make me a cheater? What would happen if she told my mom?
"You're amazing," he repeated, "I love you."
"I... love you," I repeated back, my hands on his chest. But, I didn't love him; I wasn't Anna.
I broke out of his grasp and turned to face him, looking for the right words to say. Everything in my head was a jumble.
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