Reality is little more than popular opinion. If one person sees something, he may very well be crazy, but if two people share an experience that they would otherwise write off as a dream, then the line that exists between reality and imagination becomes blurred. The story that I'm about to tell you may or may not have really happened.
My wife and I had been married for about three years at the time. I was in grad school and she was a junior associate at an ambitious law firm. Obviously, between her schedule and mine, the time we had to spend with each other was limited. Sex was pretty much restricted to the occasional quickie in the morning shower, and more often than not, I found myself masturbating to the memories of when we were newlyweds and couldn't get enough. I suspect she did the same.
This led to frustration and tension between us, and after one particularly intense argument and the equally intense make-up sex that followed, we drifted off to sleep. We were happy to be together, but I don't think that either of us really empathized with the other in terms of priorities. It was like we were living two completely separate lives. Practically the only time we saw each other was in bed for our nightly six hours of sleep, but that night, my only explanation is that we dreamed together.
It's always a little disconcerting to wake up on the other side of the bed. In a groggy, sleep-deprived mind, it takes a minute to figure out where you are. As it happened to be, I was on her side of the bed as the last fragments of an erotic dream slipped from my consciousness. Oddly, this was the one morning in recent memory that I didn't wake up with a hard-on.
It was Saturday, and the beginning of winter break for me at school. It was also a rare occasion in which we both got to sleep in a little. Elizabeth still lay quietly in bed under a mound of blankets as I made my way to the bathroom, at which time I was overcome with a brief panic that I had actually pissed myself during the course of the night. But when I stood in front of the toilet to take a leak is when the panic really hit. The first thing I saw was that I was wearing my wife's pajamas. The second thing I noticed was that I was no longer equipped to piss standing up. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught my wife's reflection staring back at me with exactly the same dumbfounded expression that I was feeling at that exact moment.
I ran back into the bedroom and pulled back the covers from over my sleeping wife only to find myself laying there, slowly stirring into consciousness. The bedroom mirror showed the same thing as I had seen in the bathroom. My wife and I had somehow switched bodies in the course of the night. Not wanting to cause panic until I had at least had a grip on the situation myself, I pulled the blankets back up, telling her to go back to sleep. I almost stopped myself as the words came out in an unexpectedly high register.
Back in the bathroom, I still had to pee, so I put the toilet seat down and sat there. Again, I caught my reflection in the mirror, and my eyes were naturally drawn down to the patch of hair between my legs. Once I had finished, I spread my legs and just stared at this beautiful pussy that was now mine. The sense of panic and confusion soon subsided somewhat, giving way to a much more primal feeling of arousal. When I cautiously touched myself there, I was already wet.
The feeling was amazing. My clit was surprisingly sensitive, so I decided that I'd come back to that later. In the meantime, I stuck one, then two fingers as deep inside my velvety soft spot as I could. It was a little like jerking off, only I seemed to tingle a bit more. The pace of my movements quickened with my heartbeat as I fingered myself in from of the bathroom mirror. After a couple of minutes, I bent over, giving myself a great view of my wife's perfect ass and sweet, juicy hole. I was so turned on that I knew that an orgasm wasn't far behind. As it hit, sending shockwaves throughout my newly delicate frame, I soon found that I didn't have to stop. The wetness that gushed from my pounding orgasm served to lubricate my fingers for round two. Then I heard a man's voice from another room.
Still only half dressed, I ran into the bedroom, driven by the protective instinct of a loving husband. Of course, I had failed to consider that at 5'4" and 120 lbs., I probably wasn't going to be able to do much damage. I had also failed to consider that it was my voice calling me from bed. My wife had woken up, and was apparently more than a little startled at her newfound condition.
