Tales From Mexico — Epilogue
You may wonder what happened AFTER we got back home. Let me summarize the weeks that followed, and you’ll get the idea.
First off, Minx was there, waiting for us, all sunshine and rainbows. She wouldn’t admit to it, but I think she missed us. She immediately grilled us about the trip, often asking how the weather was, if there was a lot of SUN, if we got a good TAN, etc.
Subtle she isn’t.
“Mandy” and I turned things on her pretty quickly, asking if she was responsible for the tan curse. She positively beamed with price and nodded repeatedly, kind of like a cartoon character.
“Yeah,” I said, “well that worked all right.”
Minx looked straight at my crotch. “Oooh,” she exclaimed, then pointed a finger at my engine. Sparks flew and I instantly sprung an impressive erection. I hadn’t had time to… um… readjust the position, so I had to quickly bend over and straighten everything. “Nice,” Minx said. “Mandy” ran her hand across the front of my jeans and acquiesced. “Definitely,” she added.
Then Minx gave “Mandy” a suspicious look. “Wait, YOU’re not Jaycee’s girlfriend. What business to you have touching him there?”
That was my first clue that something bigger was happening.
“You mean… you think this is Brooke?” I asked, pointing a thumb at “Mandy.”
Minx nodded. “Of course.”
“Well, she isn’t.”
“Mandy. In Brooke’s body.”
Minx shook her head, not understanding.
“Why did you take Brooke’s body?”
We tried explaining that the switch wasn’t voluntary, but Minx was pretty skeptical. I thought at first she might have been messing with us, but it was pretty clear Minx wasn’t that devious.
So it had to be someone (or something) else.
For the following few days, things were… normal enough. The sex sessions were spectacular. Brooke’s epic body was a source of endless erotic pleasure, and before my sun tan faded, I wasn’t too bad myself. I’d sometimes notice Minx, perched on a lamp, observing us in action like a movie buff watching the latest action flick. (She was just missing the popcorn.)
But the tan faded. And while Mandy was still having sex with me, it became less frequent. (Mind you, twice a day is still a lot, by some standards.) I didn’t pay attention to it at first, but after a week, I got this weird feeling that something was wrong. One night, as I was coming back from work, I walked in on “Mandy” having sex with the pizza guy.
I’m NOT kidding! Don’t ANY of you make porn jokes, or go “bow chika wah wah” on me.
I chased the guy out (kept the pizza, didn’t pay for it). Then Mandy and I had a chat. She cried and apologized. He’d flirted with her, and somehow that had sent sparks flying down in her groin. She’d gotten SO horny she lost control and had thrown herself at the pizza delivery guy. I remembered the curses, and it was true that any kind of flirting would get her hot. Curse me for a fool, but I had to try it.
“So… in the morning, do you like your eggs scrambled… or fertilized?”
Her eyes glazed over.
“Why wait for morning?”
And we were lost in passion again.
Two days later, I left for work and came back because I’d forgotten my iPad. I caught Mandy with the mailman. Another round of tears and make up sex ensued.
The next day, I got suspicious and called her just one street corner away from my place. She answered, we chatted, and she confirmed she was at my apartment. I immediately went home and checked — she wasn’t there. That worried me. When she arrived, we had an argument about it. Apparently, she had gone out for coffee and didn’t want to worry me. I didn’t buy it. More tears.
More sex, too.
And finally, another three days later, I came home at the normal time, and found her in OUR bed with two other guys. I yelled at her. She pretended not to see me and urged her lovers to keep screwing her. I left, sick to my stomach.
That time, I cried. I cried because I realized that she’d been playing me all along. Again. Just like before. All the cheating, then the tears, then the sex to make me forget.
Same old tricks. And I was the same old idiot for not seeing it before.
Next update: SundayShare