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His eyes were staring at my public hair and soon he began stroking my clit with his fingers.“Mazaa aali ka (Are you having fun)?” He asked me grinding his teeth and rubbing my clit faster and faster. I wasn’t replying because I knew I wasn’t strong enough to fight the couples. In fact, I was really getting aroused because of the teasing on my clit as well as on my breasts. Suddenly, Prashant inserted two fingers inside my clit and started moving in and out with tremendous speed. I started screaming as his hard fingers rubbed all around my pussy walls and I realized that I was oozing involuntarily. Swati in the meantime, left my breasts, took off her ‘pallu’ (top end of sari), and opened her blouse and bra. It was just the opportunity I was looking for as she had taken off her hands from me. As I tried to sit up with the support of my arms and kicking Prashant with my legs, Swati pulled my face towards her breasts. I immediately felt her nipples on my mouth and she was forcing me to. But inside that newly acquiredfigure he was still Greg Sanders. And wasn't Greg male? How could hewear those items? Yet looking the way he did, how could he not? Helifted the top one, marveling at its lightness, the quality ofinsubstantiality that it suggested, and held it up to the area below hisgenerous waist. At that moment he was belatedly struck by an alarmingthought. Had he changed down there? In the spot that offered theclearest distinction between men and women? His free hand moved slowly,reluctantly, so his fingers could probe blindly at the soft flesh anddetect what was hidden by the swell of his midsection.First he discovered a modest triangle of fine pubic hair. In its center,where he had hoped and silently implored that he might find malegenitals, nestled a yielding mound, in whose center was a vertical slitbordered by rubbery, slightly protruding labia. Greg had a vagina. Agirl part. A pussy. He whimpered softly to himself, glad at least thatno one else.
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