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This false penis was longer as well and pressed up against his groin, letting him plow it into her with every stroke of his cock, her pussy pushing it out again as he backed away only to return with full fucking power over and over. Now she didn't know what to think. She was more full than she had ever been before, and as she felt him slowly building his pace, fucking her faster and faster, she wanted to let out a scream of sexual pleasure. But all that escaped her lips was a muffled cry. She could feel his cock throbbing inside her again, and she knew he was about to cum. He kept fucking her ass and his cock grew until he strained, held himself inside her, and exploded up her ass in yet another strong climax. She could feel him pull himself out of her and he moved around her as he pumped himself for cum, and drenched her with his sex juices, shooting bursts of cum all over her tits and chest. Now she was completely covered; her face was still wet with his cum from when he. Which at thispoint was maybe 3 inches long. "Whats happening? No, it's ok they saidit's not permanent, it's not permanent. he looked at himself in themirror again, his hair was a little bit longer. he grabbed a bunch of it,it felt so soft. "Why oh why didn't I read that paper more carefully.well there is no turning back now" He sat down on the couch again with asad look, his lips curled down and his eyes watered up. He felt a hand on his shoulder, it was Brittany."It's ok, these mood swings are just part of the changes, it will be justok" Matt stood up and Brittany hugged him and he sobbed". In his squeakyvoice Matt said "What's wrong with me, I'm a guy, guys don't cry likethis."Brittany poked at Matts chest "well your not the man you were a bit ago,It's really not so bad. Look at me, I'm happy as a girl. Tomorrow morningyou will change back to normal and you'll get a big check for this and itwill be great"Matt nodded and Brittney wiped his eyes. She put her hand on his side.
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He clomps through in his usual clumsy way, kicking his trainers into the corner and knocking the hall table with his sports bag. He’s grinning, and if a grin can really be infectious then there’s about to be an epidemic.“No need to ask who won then?” I laugh, responding to his cheery demeanour. He holds four fingers up as he swigs orange juice straight from the carton. A little of it dribbles down his chin and he wipes it with the sleeve of his tracksuit top.“Four-nil!” He laughs as he kisses me on the cheek. I pick up the sharp tang of sweat and see blood matted into the hair of his right eyebrow. He sees my frowning concern and puts a hand to his head gingerly, feeling the wound, and rolls his eyes upwards as though he’s trying to look at the wound. Why do men do that? I smile at him, mocking him gently, but he doesn’t realise I’m doing it. “That’s the only thing their centre-forward got out of me all day!” he blusters. He’s always in such a good mood when they win, and takes it so.

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