Content warning: Pretty much this entire chapter is an explicit sex scene. If that's not your bag, you can skip it and I'll put a brief synopsis without details at the start of the next chapter.

The next hour does not play out the way it had in my fantasies, but only because my fantasies about Celia to this point included one fewer penis and twice as many breasts and vaginas. She sets our pace - aggressively - by grabbing my face and kissing my lips, ear and neck, taking a quick nibble or three. I match her kiss for kiss and bite for bite until she moves down to my chest.

I have just enough time to wonder if having a woman’s nipple sensitivity would affect my experience with male-presenting nipples before Celia answers the question by biting down hard. A shock of pain and pleasure ripples through my chest, causing both nipples and my penis to stand at full attention. It lacks the full-body experience of my shower self-explorations as a woman, but it’s a higher level of intensity that I’ve ever felt as a man. She hears my gasp and doubles down, while I take the opportunity to unhook her bra.

As we move upstairs and down our bodies, it’s clear that Celia’s more in practice than I am. But once we move onto the bed, I have an advantage she can’t match - I’ve experienced how every part feels.

Her scream of pleasure vanishes into breathlessness as I rub first my finger, then my tongue, along the side of her clitoris. Once I have my tongue in position, my hands move to her upraised feet, massaging her arches as she arches her back. As I bring my fingers back between her legs for another round, she signals for me to move my head, just in time for me to get it out of the way before she orgasms.

Once Celia regains her breath, she grabs my wrists and slams me onto my back. She kisses my neck and starts moving down my body. At first, I think she’s going in for a blow job, but instead she gives my penis a single long lick while squeezing both my nipples. I gasp and reflexively thrust, and she grabs my hips and swings her leg over me to straddle me. She puts a condom on me (I didn’t even notice when she found that - maybe I don’t have the advantage I thought I did) and guides me into her.

It doesn’t take much for me to finish - as I said, it’s been a while - and Celia’s soft whimper tells me that she was hoping I’d last longer. I maneuver her onto her back and gently caress her vulva with two fingers. She grabs my arm and guides it to where she wants me. Together, we massage her, slowly at first but carefully accelerating, until she lets go of my arm and starts letting out soft moans of ecstasy. I keep her stimulated until she cries out, arches her back, and releases, then she softly moves my hand away from her wet thighs.

After a few minutes of enjoying each other’s afterglow, she rolls over, resting her head on my stomach. “I have a surprise for you, if you want to try it out.”

I don’t know how much more surprise I can handle in one night, but I agree. She moves me onto my back and straddles me. She picks up a white jar with duct tape obscuring the label off her nightstand, unscrews the lid, and with two fingers, collects a small amount of cream from the jar. She sets the jar down and uses her hand to apply the cream first to one of my nipples, then to the other.

I react to the cream immediately. Anything and everything I said before about my male-presenting chest retaining sensitivity is instantly proven a lie as my nipples perk up and my areolas darken and widen. The sensation of neurological rewiring I felt when I first touched myself as a woman returns and intensifies tenfold as I arch my back and feel my breasts slowly emerge in response to Celia’s continuing single-handed, alternating massage.

I want to ask why. I want to ask how. But my body overrides my questions and instead lets out an exhilarated “OH MY FUUUCK” in a strained alto that lands somewhere between my normal male baritone and my normal female soprano.

Celia giggles and looks at my growing breasts with rising lust. “Ooh, so this did work. I think we’re both going to enjoy this.” Her massaging fingers close into a pinch, and I let out a shriek of pleasure much more characteristic of my female register. My penis erects - wait, that’s still there? - and pokes into Celia’s thigh.

“Ohh, hiiii, that’s nice,” Celia purrs as she takes her other hand and begins stroking my still-present member. This, in combination with the continuing breast massage, is more than I can handle. I begin moaning, reaching for any part of Celia I can reach and grope to have any chance of returning the favor. A hand catches her nipple, and she yelps in surprise before batting my hand away. “No sir, no ma’am, what’s happening now is about you and only you,” she coos. “Just let Celia take good care of you.” I’m not in a state of mind or body to argue.

Celia switches hands, applying the remaining cream to my penis while massaging my upper body with her other hand. Like with my breasts, the sensual impact of the cream on my penis is immediate - it feels like every sexual pleasure nerve below my waist is stimulated at once. At first, I’m surprised I don’t ejaculate, but then I start to feel myself shifting. In more than one sense, Celia is making a woman out of me.

“How are you feeling about this?” Celia asks, checking in as she feels my penis recede.

“Ahhh… itchy,” is all I can manage between the symphony of sensations in my body.

“Oh?” She smiles. “Then let’s see if I can scratch it for you.”

Celia kisses both my nipples and moves her hand to my shifting genitalia. She whispers in my ear. “This is new for me too; let me know when I find a spot that feels good.” She starts rubbing softly, which doesn’t feel bad, but my body’s not reacting the way I need it to. Some kind of switch has flipped, and my body’s lustful need has changed from “filling” to “being filled” without giving me anything for her to fucking fill. I hear myself let out a frustrated whine, and I twist my hips and rock them against Celia’s hand, desperately trying to put enough pressure on my absent genitalia to speed this process along and give her something, anything to – Oh!

Fucking FINALLY, the vulva is open for business! Her lubricated fingers find their way inside, and I try to tell her where to go, but all I can manage is a soft, pleased murmur.

She explores my freshly formed clitoris. I pulse, gasp, and cry with each discovery she makes. I regain enough presence of mind to take her hand in mine and guide her to… Oh, FUCK!

I let go as my body spasms with pleasure. Celia smiles, knowing she has found her target. She stimulates the area, gently caressing it in a circular motion. I continue to whine in my rapture, consumed by the moment.

Any advantage my unique situation granted me is lost - now we’re both women, and Celia’s experience both giving and receiving sexual pleasure in this state exceeds mine. Her lips and tongue tease my left nipple, eliciting a moan of exhilaration. She moves to the right, adding a nip on the nipple to her routine. My whole body reacts blissfully, and I let myself ride the waves of passion Celia is stimulating.

She withdraws her fingers from my vulva. I let out a small whimper of protest. She smiles and moves her mouth and tongue to replace her hand. She gently licks my labia, testing my tenderness. She moves in, her tongue making advances. I convulse and let out a strangled cry. Having found her objective, Celia’s tongue slowly probes my clitoris, and she moves her hand to stimulate my nipple each time my voice signals my increasing gratification.

I feel myself start to tighten, and I move my hand to Celia’s head, intending to gently guide her back up my body. Instead, an ecstatic spasm causes me to grab her hair and yank up, eliciting a confused cry of pain from my bringer of bliss. The accidental assault accomplishes my intention, and I let out a cry of euphoria as my body makes its release. Celia, understanding my urgency, moves her lips to mine and her fingers back to my gently throbbing vulva. I gently touch her hand and move it away. I’m spent.

I try to verbalize some kind of positive reinforcement - a statement of satisfaction, maybe even gratitude? But all my exhausted, contented voice can manage is a quiet, “Mph. Amazing.”

I somehow manage to move myself into Celia’s embrace. It feels comfortable. It feels like curling up in a chair at the library with a newly discovered favorite author. It feels like home.

My body relaxes and I drift into unconsciousness, a satisfied woman.