Date: Fri, 14 Aug 1998 19:56:51 PDT
From: Sissipus ! <sissipus@hotmail.com>
Subject: Lucky Slots (tg, bodyswap, bi)

     Please be aware that the following tale of fun and depravity does 
contain adult material. If you are under 18, or object to explicit sex, 
then stop reading NOW and go do something innocent, wholesome, and 
moral.
     Otherwise, enjoy yourself, hon!


Lucky Slots
by Tanya Sissipus

	"Come on . . . please . . ." Damn! Nothing again. I'd been sitting at 
the same damned slot machine for an hour, and all I'd managed to do was 
break even about twenty minutes ago. It was starting to piss me off - I 
DO NOT like to lose - and I must have looked it because the cocktail 
waitresses were avoiding me like the plague.
	Ah, the cocktail waitresses. Where the Casino had found so many 
good-looking women, I have no idea. They appealed to all tastes - short 
and tall, slim and voluptuous, sweet and slutty - but they all looked 
fantastic. The one who'd been working my section of the floor had been 
nothing less than Amazonian Goddess! About 6 foot two, athletically 
built, nice tits, with long curly black hair that you just wanted to 
smother yourself in. Even in the smoky room, she'd smelled just as sweet 
as her name - Rosemary.
	"Shit!" Another loser. Feeding another token into the machine, I told 
myself I'd quit if I could only break even. Of course, that's what I'd 
said a half hour ago, and now I was another fifty bucks in the hole. 
"Damn!"
	That's it. I wasn't feeding this one-armed bandit any more of my money. 
I grabbed my bucket of tokens and decided to look for Rosemary's 
replacement. The heat of the crowds and the smoke in the air were drying 
out my eyes and my throat. Maybe, if I could get another watered-down 
beer into me, I'd feel a little better.
	Suddenly, before I could spot the distinctive silver halter and black 
miniskirt of a cocktail waitress, I froze. The slot machine beside me 
was empty - an unusual enough sight on its own - and it seemed to be 
calling to me. Yeah, I know, it sounds stupid, but I just had a feeling.
	Five bucks later, I was ready to toss that `feeling' out the door. I'd 
won a few coins here and there, but nothing special. "Well," I told 
myself, "Looks like you have no choice." I felt like an idiot for even 
thinking of it, but at least I wasn't alone. All the chain-smoking, 
near-drunk, gambling addicts were doing it - and it seemed to be paying 
off.
	Yup, you guessed it. I was gonna try sweet-talking my machine.
	"Please, baby, you can do it. I know you can."			
	Nothing.							
	"Just one winner, just one. That's all I ask."
	Again, nothing.
	"Come on, daddy needs a new pair of shoes!" What can I say? I saw it in 
a movie once.
	Wow! A whole quarter!
	Now I was inspired. Taking a quick look around, I leaned close and 
whispered "Come on, sissy needs a new pair of breasts." I took a deep 
breath and decided to bet the maximum - go for the jackpot. I'd always 
dreamed about winning enough to live as a full-time sissy, but had never 
admitted it to anyone before. Maybe a little honesty with my machine 
would pay off. If not, I promised myself that'd be it for the day.
	Yeah, right.
	Excited, I watched the three tiny windows as the wheels behind them 
spun to a halt. It seemed to take forever, and I felt as if the entire 
building had stopped to watch.
Stupid, I know, but it was late and I was getting desperate.
	The first one slowed, and stopped. "Blue seven . . ." Not bad - I would 
have preferred a purple seven - but two more and I'd be a hundred bucks 
richer.
	The second clicked into place. "Blue seven . . ." Yes - just one more 
now.
	Just when it looked like the last one would stop, it seemed to pick up 
speed before slowing again. "A double diamond?" Where the Hell had that 
come from? There were no diamonds on this machine - just coloured 
sevens. No wonder I couldn't win - the sucker was rigged!
	"Hey, way to go!" As some drunken lout slapped me on the back, I 
realized the siren above me was flashing and squealing. I'd waited years 
to have it happen, but why now? That was only for the big jackpots, not 
a measly hundred bucks. Unless . . . oh, shit - unless they thought I 
had rigged the machine!
	Panicked, I spun around, fighting every inch of the way. Damn, right 
when I needed to get away fast, my stool had to go and seize up on me. 
This whole night was turning into one long, endless nightmare.
	"Oh, no need to get up Mrs. Hanhouser." Her arm waving, a petite blonde 
waitress hurried towards me. Relieved, I watched her approach, my eyes 
jumping between her bouncing breasts and swaying hips. Obviously, it 
wasn't MY siren that had gone off - it must have been the machine behind 
me.
	As Veronica - I could read her name now - teetered my way across the 
red carpet on three-inch heels, I decided to quit after all. My mind was 
playing tricks on me, and that seemed as good a signal as any. I'd been 
here WAY too long, and would just lose more money if I stayed.
	"Hi, I'll stay with you until the attendant arrives." This was getting 
too weird. The blonde cocktail waitress had stopped beside ME, put her 
delicate hand on MY shoulder, and was talking to ME!
	"Huh?"
	"A little overwhelmed, are we?" Smiling, she told me "A fourteen 
thousand-dollar jackpot will do that to you. Would you like me to send 
for Mr. Hanhouser?" Pointing through the white arch behind us, she said 
"I believe he's at the blackjack table."
	What was she taking about? Who did she think I was? Confused, I looked 
back to my machine - and saw not two sevens and a double diamond, but 
THREE double diamonds! "But, that can't be," I whispered. "It's 
impossible."
	"I know," she smiled, "It does seem that way sometimes, doesn't it?"
	"No, you don't understand." Slowly, I turned, again fighting for every 
inch. Dammit! What was happening to me?
	"Janice!" Suddenly, I had some three-hundred pound stranger - who stank 
of cheap cologne - throwing his hairy arms around me. "You did it, 
baby!" Pressing his bald, sweaty forehead against mine, he screamed "You 
did it!"
	"G-get off!" Disgusted, I pushed him away - and suddenly froze. The 
hands before me were huge, and my fingers were swollen to three times 
their size. But . . . they were also covered in cheap rings, three of 
four to a finger, with gaudy pieces of glass taking the place of gems. A 
sinking feeling in my stomach, I traced those hands back to a pair of 
huge flabby wrists, more gaudy jewellery in the form of bracelets and a 
watch, and arms bigger than my thighs!
	I didn't have to go any farther to know this wasn't me, but couldn't 
stop myself.
	"I think she just needs a minute to catch her breath," the waitress 
said. "She'll be fine, Sir, really."
	Fine? Fine? I was most definitely NOT fine! As I looked down to examine 
the rest of my body I found a trio of flabby double chins, sagging 60DDD 
tits, a gut that would have put a teamster to shame, hips bigger than 
three of me put together, feet that had to be size fifteens - and all 
wrapped in a paisley mu-mu. Gawd, I was some ugly, whale-sized piece of 
trailer trash!
	But . . . if that all meant what I THOUGHT it meant . . . where was MY 
body?
	"Where . . ." taking a deep breath, I asked "Where is he?"
	Still trying to soothe my husband's wounded feelings, Veronica asked 
"Who?"
	Damn - how was I gonna explain this? "Ah, young guy," I replied, "Dark 
hair, wearing a purple t-shirt, black shorts, and black sandals." As my 
fat ass slid off the stool with a sickening squelch, I began peering 
over the machines, trying to get my bearings.
	"You goddamned hussy!" Pulling away from the cocktail waitress, my 
so-called husband accused "You win a few bucks and already you're ready 
to run off with a younger man!"
	Pushing the angry lout away, I lumbered awkwardly into the aisle. Gawd, 
this body moved like a top-heavy freight train, but at least I could 
plow my way through the crowds with it. Now that I knew where I was, I 
knew exactly how to get to where my body was. Or, where it had been a 
few minutes ago.
	I tried not to think about what I'd do if it wasn't still there.
	"Mrs. Hanhouser? Mrs. Hanhouser!" Skipping after me, the little 
cocktail waitress looked absurdly small, almost swallowed by my shadow. 
"Shall I have your husband sign for the winnings, or leave them with the 
coin-bank for you?"
	"I don't care," I snapped. "Just get the fuck away from me!" I was 
scared, more scared than I had ever been in my life. All those times I 
had dreamed about swapping bodies with a cute babe like Veronica, I'd 
never imagined getting stuck inside the monster I was now. What would I 
do if I WERE stuck? I couldn't live my life like this! Gawd, no human 
being should have to live like this! Another bon-bon, and I'd be one of 
those tabloid freaks forever confined to a soggy, stinking mattress on 
the floor of a condemned shack.
	Fighting to slow the considerable momentum of Mrs. Hanhouser's mountain 
of flesh, I grabbed the edge of a silver slot machine and started to 
turn. This was where I'd been playing - I remembered the washrooms at 
the end of the row.
	Unfortunately, I wasn't there anymore.
	"Shit!" Screaming at anybody who'd listen, I asked "Where did she go? 
Tell me!" Spittle flying in all directions, I shrieked "Where the fuck 
did she go?"
	Shifting around to protect his new bride, a young Italian asked "Who?"
	"The bitch who stole my fucking body!"
	Now I'd done it. I could have come looking for my `son' or something, 
taken a minute to make up a reasonable story, but I'd blown it. Instead 
of offering their sympathies, everyone was ignoring the fat drunk, 
concentrating especially hard on their machines to avoid meeting my 
eyes. What the Hell was I supposed to do?
	As another siren began screaming in my ear, I sighed and collapsed onto 
my old stool - fully expecting it to collapse beneath me. I needed time 
to think, to figure something out, to -
	"Cheryl! We did it! We did it!"
	Now what? A VERY attractive redhead was hugging me tight, giggling and 
kissing me like I was a long-lost lover. Who was she supposed to be? My 
daughter? If so, she definitely did NOT take after her mother.
	"Come on! Show a little enthusiasm!" Seizing my hand, she yanked me off 
the stool and began dancing around the machine. "Smile, silly - you just 
won us five thousand bucks!"
	Shocked at how easily she'd pulled me to my feet, I looked down . . . 
and laughed! Not only laughed, but grabbed my beautiful partner and 
joined her in the wildest, craziest, silliest moment of my life. I was 
free! Free of that half-ton cow, and magically transformed into a rather 
striking young woman, much more in keeping with my dreams.
	"Yes! Yes!" Loving the feel of my perky breasts pressed against my 
partner's, I kissed her hard - and was thrilled when she returned it! 
Man, first I was suddenly a babe, and now I was a babe with a beautiful 
lesbian lover. Grinding my cunt against her probing fingers, I didn't 
care who saw us or what they might think.
	"Congratulations, ladies. Will that be cash or cheque?" Before the 
redhead in my arms could reply, I cried "Cheque!" Grinning, I told the 
middle-aged slot attendant "Just make it out to Cheryl and . . ."
	". . . and Lisa," my lover added.
	Yes! Step one accomplished - I'd learned her name. Now, step two - we 
take the money, find a nice hotel room, and have some fun!
	With a mischievous giggle, she snatched the cheque from his hands and 
stuffed it down her bra. Then, dancing backwards, she taunted "If you 
want it, you'd better come and get it!"
	I laughed, my fears of a moment ago completely forgotten. I'd sooner 
have died than live as Mrs. Hanhouser, but now it was the other way 
around. I'd sooner have died than go BACK to my old body. Somewhere in 
the Casino, I knew, there was a confused young man and older woman 
looking for themselves. I felt bad for them, but since I had no more 
idea what had happened than they did, I wanted to be gone before they 
found ME.
	So, arm in arm, our breasts snuggling against one another, and our 
hands roaming around beneath each other's skirts, Lisa and I danced our 
way across the crowded room. I knew absolutely nothing about her - or 
myself - but was looking forward to spending a night exploring those 
answers.
	Not to mention, a wonderful morning with the promise of more 
spectacular nights to come.
	"What d'ya wanna do first, hon?" I grinned. Bumping my tight little ass 
against anything that moved, I told Lisa "Personally, I think I'd like 
to do a little muff-diving."
	"You naughty fucking dyke!" My redheaded lover laughed, surprising me 
as she rammed her finger deep into my cunt. "I wanna follow THAT," she 
moaned. Jerking me away from the centre of the crowd, she slammed hard 
against a marble pillar. "Follow it," she whispered, "And see how much 
of my hand I can fuck you with tonight!"
	"Mmmmm, sounds good to me." Crushing her between my hot body and the 
cold stone behind her, I pressed my lips against hers and kissed. It was 
so different, kissing as a girl, and I loved it. As our tongues 
playfully licked one another, we smeared red lipstick across our faces, 
well aware of what people must be thinking. Gawd, I was loving this!
	Even more turned on than me, Lisa suddenly pulled me to a stop. "Do 
me," she breathed, "Right here. Fuck me on the floor and give the folks 
a show." Then, taking my face in her hands, she gently forced me to lean 
back, took a deep breath, and -
	- And I doubled over in a fit of coughing, forcing my lungs to expel 
the foul cloud of smoke I'd just inhaled. Painfully aware of the jackpot 
siren behind me, I spat the cigarette out of my mouth and looked up in 
panic.
	"Lisa!" My voice was deep and husky, the result of too much hard liquor 
and too many cigarettes. Tears in my eyes, I looked to the front 
entrance and watched my lesbian lover drag a suddenly reluctant Cheryl 
out the door. No! It wasn't fair! We'd been so close, only a few feet 
away from the life I craved! Why did this keep happening to me!
	This time, there was nobody around to congratulate me. No friendly 
waitress, no husband, no lover, not even a disinterested stranger. 
Looking at the line of wine glasses atop my machine and the overflowing 
bucket of cigarette butts beside it, I could understand why.
	"Two hundred and fifty bucks?" I cried. "That's no jackpot! Why the 
siren?" Looking down at the machine - and the three cherries it 
displayed - I found my explanation. It had run out of coins, so the only 
way to pay even my small jackpot was to flash away until an attendant 
arrived. Dammit! If only the fucking attendants had kept the machine 
stocked, it would have been ME that Lisa dragged through those doors! 
"It's not fair!"
	"You want that in tokens?" a bored looking young man asked, "Or shall I 
just credit your bar-tab?"
	"Ah . . ." Did it really matter? Would my gambling make ANY difference? 
Maybe I should just take the bar-tap and get rip-roaring drunk. Take a 
chance on forgetting this whole crazy night and HOPEFULLY sober up in my 
own body. "W-w-well," I stammered, "What do you-"
	Again with the fucking sirens!
	"Guess you won't be needing that change after all!" The plump little 
brunette smiled, dumping the handful of tokens back into her cart.
	Looking down at my thirty-something, very average form, I moaned. "Oh, 
not again." She wasn't as bad as Mrs. Hanhouser or the chain-smoking 
drunk - decent legs with fat thighs, sharp bony hips, a generous 
stomach, and C-cup tits - but she was no Cheryl.
	"Again? You taking ALL our money, April?"
	"Ah, yeah." Shaking my head in disbelief, I said "Guess I am."
	Signing her name to the bottom of the slip, the attendant told me "You 
just take this voucher to the token bank - not the chip bank - and 
they'll cash it for you."
	"Thanks." Right now, though, that was the farthest thing on my mind. 
Strangely exhausted, I adjusted my purse and sighed. What was I supposed 
to do now? Get the Hell out of here in a body that didn't totally 
disgust me, or sit around and take my chances?
	Motioning for me to lean over, the shorter woman asked "Would you like 
me to hold your machine while you run to the ladies' room?"
	"Why?"
	Clearly embarrassed, she moved the change-cart between me and the crowd 
before pointing out the problem. There, in the crotch of my white 
stretch-pants, was a wet, red-brown stain. Rapidly spreading, it was 
becoming more noticeable by the second. 
	"Oh, shit!" Afraid to touch it, I sobbed "I really don't need this."
	"Must have been all the excitement. You know, all the jumping and 
twisting?" She shook her head sadly. "Pads just don't do the job they 
used to."
	Gratefully accepting her offer, I took a moment to ask for directions 
and ran for the bathroom. That short jog, across maybe a half dozen 
yards of matted carpet, was one of the longest of my life. If I'd been 
wearing heels, I'd probably have tossed them aside just to make up an 
extra second of time. Finally, I banged into the solid oak door of the 
washroom, cringing at the deep `boom' as it bounced back off the wall. 
Then, safely inside, I slammed a quarter into the maxi-pad dispenser and 
yanked the lever.
	Fitting - just like some perverted slot machine.
	"That one's all out," a tipsy voice cried from one of the stalls. 
"Y'all need a - hiccup! - a tampon."
	"Dammit!" I slammed a feminine fist against the machine, ironically 
jarring the `empty' light into operation. As if my situation weren't bad 
enough, now I had to fight with a freaking tampon! Ignoring the 
overdressed tramps over by the sink - nobody needed that much makeup - I 
slipped my last quarter into the neighbouring machine and pulled. Then, 
ripping the blue-and-white wrapper from the slot, I stalked into the 
first stall available and slammed the door behind me.
	"Oh, yuck." My once-white panties were ruined, and I was hoping like 
Hell I had a jacket somewhere to tie around my waist. Tossing the 
bloodstained panties behind the toilet, I tore open the tampon and tried 
to figure exactly how it worked. "Hmm, looks simple enough," I decided 
after a while. So, taking a deep breath, I placed the rough cardboard 
applicator to my cunt and -
	Only vaguely aware of the flashing red light and piercing wail before 
me, I moaned softly. If this was what it felt like to wear a tampon . . 
. well, you could sign me up for permanent periods right now!
	"Oh my God! Oh my God!" Suddenly aware of his hands on my tits, I heard 
a dark-haired stranger promise "We're taking that honeymoon in the 
tropics after all!"
	"W-w-what?" Again, I moaned, but the money had nothing to do with it. 
Recognizing the Italian newlywed from before, I looked down and gasped. 
He'd set me on his lap, hiked up the white lace skirt of my wedding 
dress, and was fucking me in public! That wasn't a tampon I felt down 
there - it was some guy's cock! I had another man's dick inside me - 
and, worst of all, was still bouncing up and down, enjoying it!
	"What do ya say to that, Fiona?"
	I tried to respond, to say something, but that stiff cock ramming into 
me from below was demanding all my concentration. Ohhhh, it felt so 
good! This was what sex was supposed to be like - that I was sure - but 
this wasn't the time. "L-l-l-later," I gasped, trying to move away. I 
was about to demand he let me go before the Casino staff arrived, but 
never got the chance. Whether it was the excitement or what, I don't 
know, but he exploded into my cunt, his torrent of cum silencing my 
reply.
	"Unngghhhh!" As his hips bucked upwards into mine, I had an orgasm of 
my own - my first as a woman! "Ohhhhhh . . . fuuuuccckkkkkkk!" I threw 
my arms around him on reflex, crushing his head to my breasts as I rode 
out the most fantastic moment of my life. Suddenly, I wasn't regretting 
the lost opportunity of Lisa anymore! I was a real woman, with a real 
man, and he was making me feel just like I'd always wanted to feel! 
Gawd, this was amazing!
	"Argggh!" Almost tearing away my nipples with his teeth, my husband 
cried "Soon as we get back to Momma's, you're gonna get on your knees 
and thank me, you wonderful slut!" Looking up at me with love in his 
eyes, he grinned - and I found myself grinning back.
	Another siren kept me from hearing what was to come next.
	"-fucking cunt!" A long brown cigarette dangling between her lips, a 
middle-aged brunette pushed me away from the machine. "I was gonna play 
that! You fucking stole it!"
	Talk about walking into the middle of a fight! At least I had the 
advantage of knowing she was in the wrong. If it HAD been her machine, 
if SHE had been the one to win, I wouldn't have been inside the 
sickeningly-thin female body I was now.
	"The Hell you were," I snarled. Angry, I shoved her back, well-aware 
that I was acting out the fury and fear of my bizarre predicament. She 
probably deserved it, but I wasn't lashing out at her - I was fighting 
back against whatever sinister force had put me there.
	"Aiiieeee!" Suddenly, the catty little bitch lunged for my face, her 
inch-long nails driving straight for my eyes. The part of me that was 
still an envious little sissy whistled appreciatively at the manicured 
designs, but the rest of me was all woman.
	And that part hauled back and decked her. Satisfied, I took a moment to 
make sure I hadn't broken a nail, the looked down in disgust. I 
deliberately rested my hand on the arm of MY slot machine, smiling all 
the while. "Looks like you picked the wrong bitch to mess-"
	This time, I swear I felt the siren before I heard it.
	"Yes!" Kissing me affectionately on the cheek, and clean-cut young man 
told me "Looks like we won't have to worry about little Charlie's 
college tuition after all!"
	A few minutes - and a couple bodies - ago, a lusty Italian stallion had 
been fucking my brains out. Now? Now all I got was a friendly little 
kiss on the cheek! Maybe I was expecting too much, maybe this was all 
most women received, but I felt cheated! "Huh?" I managed to reply.
	He put his hand on my stomach and smiled. "Whoo! You feel that, honey? 
Our little boy knows exactly what Mommy won!"
	Now that he mentioned it, I DID feel it. Caught somewhere begin panic 
and bliss, I looked down and stared at my hugely swollen - and very 
pregnant - tummy. Inside, I could actually feel the baby floating 
around, kicking against me in his excitement. It was definitely the 
weirdest sensation of my life, but in that short moment, I understood 
the love a mother feels for her child. An instant bond had been formed 
there, and I was already fearing the swap that would suddenly sever it.
	"Honey?" I asked. "Can you get the money? Meet me . . ."
	Clasping my hand over our child, he asked "Meet you where, Nancy?"
	I'd been planning to run to the car, to escape the threat of more swaps 
inside the Casino, but suddenly wasn't so sure. Yes, it felt wonderful 
now, more feminine than I could ever dream of being as a sissy, but did 
I really want it? Could I handle the next few months of carrying the 
baby to term? Would the pain of labour be as bad as I feared? Worst of 
all, what kind of a mother would I make?
	Before I could make up my mind, another damned siren snatched me away.
	"You go, girl!" A towering black stud was hugging me from behind, 
forcing one of my own black titties to pop free in all the excitement. 
Fondling it in plain sight of our neighbours, he proudly proclaimed "You 
the best piece of ass I EVER had!"
	Yet another siren stole that moment away from me, followed by another . 
. . and another . . . and another . . .
	One minute I was a skinny, near-sighted waif, with my proud father 
rubbing my head. We'd just won ten grand, and I could already sense I'd 
never see a dime.
	Seconds later, I was another mountain of flesh, easily twice the size 
of Mrs. Hanhouser. Somehow, I'd jumped up from my stool and was pumping 
my arms in glee, my whole body rumbling with excitement. I could feel 
the waves of fat racing around me, and wanted to be sick right then and 
there.
	Just as suddenly, I was a lonely little nun, clapping for joy. Very 
proper and demure, I was smiling and waiting patiently for the attendant 
to arrive. The machine was flashing one thousand dollars even, but I had 
a feeling neither church nor orphanage would benefit. She was gone, just 
as I'd soon be, and it was anybody's guess who would take up residence 
next.
	From there, the jackpot sirens sent me sailing into an incredibly 
provocatively dressed young whore - with no less than seven men 
congratulating me!
	"Penthouse suite, here we come!"
	"Remember our deal, Tricia," another leered. "You let us videotape our 
little gangbang, let the world watch us fill YOUR slot, and you can keep 
what came out of this one." As his buddies laughed at his joke, the 
greasy-haired, middle-aged guy began fondling his crotch.
	I was debating whether to take my chances as a high-priced whore or 
kick him in the balls when it happened again.
	And again.
	And again.
	And again . . .

	That was all a year ago now, three hundred and sixty five days in the 
past. I've put several thousand bodies behind me - some I was only too 
happy to be rid of, others I still cry over losing. I can't tell you how 
many times I tried to escape, but I CAN tell you how many times I made 
it to the doors. Once, just once, I got that far only to spend the next 
three weeks bouncing between a series of fat ugly women, each worse than 
the one before her.
	Oh, there HAVE been memorable moments. Like the one Sunday night, 
around three a.m., when I managed to hold onto a cute blonde for almost 
half an hour. Then there was the time I stole ten minutes of forbidden 
love with a cocktail waitress, a share of my winnings seducing her into 
the washroom. I'd even spent one dizzying day bouncing from woman to 
woman, never lasting more than a minute in each, but beginning and 
ending each swap with my husband's/boyfriend's/lover's lips locked 
around mine.
	I've truly experienced every aspect of what it means to be a woman, in 
every way shape and form.
	I'd like to escape. I'd like to be free. Hell, I'd even be happy to get 
out with Mr. Hanhouser and spend my days as his fat ugly cow of a wife. 
At least my nightmare would be over.
	Mostly, though, I'd like to have never said those nine little words. 
Better yet, I'd like to have never even COME to the Casino in the first 
place. Best of all, I'd like them to have never even BUILT the Casino in 
town.
	`Come on, sissy needs a new pair of breasts' indeed.
	There goes that fucking siren again.

*******
     Mmmm, hope you enjoyed that. Are your pretty panties nice and wet? 
Is your lovely cock good and hard? Maybe your wonderful tits are 
tingling, hmm? Why not email me (sissipus@hotmail.com) or stop by 
(www.sexysites.com/sissipus/) and let me know how I can help (grin).