Wearing Jennifer's Face
By Vicki Mock
Jennifer shoos my friends away, insisting I must dress the part and really surprise everyone, so I follow her into the spare bedroom to try on some things she has that should fit me. She locks the door, unbuckles my belt, and energetically pulls my pants down, immediately noting my state of arousal. She comes to me and smoothes the mask with her hands as if admiring it. There is a price to pay for this, she says, and she asks if I am willing to pay it. I cannot believe her boldness, and how the situation has escalated from the moment I discovered the rubber mask in her bedroom. Now I am wearing the mask and my pants are around my ankles.
She removes all of my clothes and unbuttons the top of her dress, freeing her soft breasts. We stand and kiss passionately in the middle of the room. I imagine how this must look: I am a man with a woman's face, and a woman�s hair. I open my eyes and reflect that kissing her while wearing her own face is too incredible to describe. I wonder how she feels about seeing her face looking back at her. Her soft rubber lips part as I moan softly, and I feel her hair touch my neck and shoulders as I shake my head and look at the ceiling in ecstasy.
We know we cannot go on any longer--the others are expecting us--so she quickly disengages her lips and finds me some clothes in the closet that she says her husband had once worn to a Halloween party in the 70's. I see a closet full of women's clothes, and I begin to wonder if he was a transvestite.
She pulls on opaque latex panties and two pairs of nylons, but not before she impulsively takes me in her mouth for ten incredible seconds. My penis is now a bound and gagged prisoner, sacrificed to complete the illusion of a mock Jennifer. A tight nylon and spandex girdle with pads is wriggled on to give me hips and thighs and the double mounds of a sexy woman�s ass, then a tight, orange vinyl skirt with laces in the back, a bra stuffed with large, jiggly prosthetic breasts, and a constricting black turtleneck top that completely hides the bottom edge of the mask. The go go boots in white are tight but I can walk in them, and the orange and plaid Beatles cape is tied with a cord in front. The press on nails and false eyelashes seem a bit over the top for this simple charade, but I acquiesce. I don some black leather gloves that give my hands a feminine look. I cup my boobs, so firm yet soft on my chest, and my gloved hand feels the tight nothingness between my legs. She puts pink blusher to highlight my prominent cheekbones and lipstick on my soft lips.
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