makinglies | Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same

Jett finished tying the knot of the scarf around Albert's wrists, making certain the man wouldn't be able to budge them while she worked her magic.

Discovering there was some alternate universe where she and her lover were men instead of women was interesting to say the least and plenty awkward in Albert's presence. But uncertainty had turned a little more comfortable and then they were left in the house alone, Albert sitting in one of the chairs in the den and looking pretty good in his dress shirt and slacks. Good enough Jett decided she wanted to see what all of the differences were between this man and the woman she loved.

She already knew that--other than public disposition and the way they carried themselves when they thought they were alone--it wasn't all that different. For all intents and purposes, he was the person she loved, the outside package didn't matter.

Really, she was more of a lady's lady, but her Bertie was a sexy man and it wasn't like she was inexperienced. In fact, wooing men and bedding them had been part of her job in her gang, she was just doing the same thing here, with one large exception: she wanted to do this a hundred percent.

She moved to stand in front of him, admiring her handiwork with her hands on her hips. She was kind of glad she'd chosen to wear the too-short skirt Francoise had lent her along with the scoop-neck shirt she'd stolen from her alternate self (tied at her waist to shorten the tent that it was on her). It would make what she wanted to do easier.

She slunk over to her 'prisoner' and bent forward, bracing her hands on his knees.

"Comfortable?"

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Warm hands on real skin makes her start and she nearly jumps, gasping and suddenly unsure of what to do with her own fingers. For now her hands curl around Jet's biceps, not tightly enough to hurt but certainly tightly enough to convey her nervously excited emotional state.

"Oh..." she breathes softly, Jet's fingers still caressing her nipple catching up with the sensation of long fingers brushing delicate flesh and mixing to make her feel a bit fuzzy and hot, face blushing a deep rose.

As with when he was with Albert, Jet wished he could strip them both down and just enjoy the feeling of body against body, but he could guess that Alberta probably had the same problem Albert did if the way she dressed and acted was any indication.

He kept up the attention from his fingers for a little bit, the ones on her thighs switching from one leg to the other, sometimes tracing higher, but never touching those panties just a little bit further up.

The color her face was turning brought color to his own cheeks, but a thrill of excitement born from the desire to please his partner pushed him forward. Just as his fingertips finally brushed the edge of Alberta's underwear, he pulled both of his hands back (leaving her shirt and bra rumpled and misplaced and her skirt still bunched for better access) so he could remove his own clothes. Even if his silver-haired partners were reluctant about stripping, Jet wasn't.

He didn't spare himself any modesty and was soon completely bear to the room and Alberta's eyes--the latter of which made his face burn brighter, but didn't slow him down. He crawled back over her and let his hand not supporting him slide up between her legs again, this time rubbing over the fabric with just enough pressure to make her squirm, his lips attaching themselves to her neck at the same time to achieve the same purpose.

She has to resist the urge to hide herself anew as he rises to strip. Alberta doesn't pull down her skirt to cover her knees again, nor does she pull the blouse over her clearly synthetic stomach. No, instead she watches Jet, watches how he brazenly removes every stitch of clothing and puts her firmly in mind of her partner, but the color on his face is different.

As is his... equipment. She has a hard time looking away from that too, mind racing in sudden fright of if she'll enjoy it. Has she been spoiled for men? The last thing she wants to do is make Jet feel inadequate but it's been so long and she's only been with Jett since Hilde and what if she's forgotten entirely how this works?

It all flutters out of her head when his hand slips between her legs, returning to tormenting her with his fingertips over her panties, but it's those soft lips on her neck that cause her to moan and arch into him, one hand curling on his bicep as she does, to urge him onward. Please don't stop, she tells him with her body.

His attention to her neck is slow and thorough, but his fingers press on like they're short on time. He rubs along the fabric with increasing pressure. Her writhing and pleasured moans encourage him to slip his fingers under the edge of her panties and feel around her wet warmth. It might as well be new for how much experience he had with woman, but he was taking his cues from her and he found the sounds she was making and the faces that went them were entrancing and working him up more than he'd anticipated.

Maybe he wasn't really straight, but she was making him question. The thought of being inside her soon just made him more excited. His lips kissed up to her ear so he could whisper to her.

"I want you."

It made him a little flustered himself, but at least the color stayed off his cheeks this time. He did want her, no matter how embarrassing the brazen admission was.

She shudders when he whispers to her, hands clutching at his arms as if afraid he'll withdraw and leave her a pleading mess on the couch. She wants him too, wants him badly, but her voice is caught in her throat and she can't say. Can't even squeak.

Instead she'll have to show him, as frightening as it is, but Jett always reacts so well when Bertie shows gumption and so - though it's difficult to focus on with Jet's fingers caressing in her folds, she leans up enough to slide one hand down Jet's stomach to his cock, hesitating only a moment before pressing her palm against the shaft and rubbing just a little, enough to find the flesh there soft, if tense, and pleasantly warm.

A small gasp escaped him as her hand touched his length, making him harden completely under the attention. He can see she's overwhelmed, the look on her face just made him want to push forward. He wanted to see what other expressions she'd make; to hear what other sounds would come out of her mouth.

Without leaving her reach, he moved his hands so he could slide her panties down her legs and let them drop off the side of the bed somewhere. He moved closer, as though he were just going to take her then without any other lead up, but he stopped between her knees and slid his fingers back up between her legs. Two of his fingers slid around her folds, wetting themselves so they could easily slide into her moments later. She'd been with a woman for the last while, he didn't want to just plow on ahead without preparing her first. He wanted to make her feel good...he just couldn't really find the words to say that.

She breathes in sharply as his fingers slip inside her. Her Jett does the same thing, petting before sliding inside, but this Jet's fingers are thicker and longer, making her shiver and stop moving for a moment as she gets used to the sensation. But she should be moving, shouldn't she? She wants him to feel as good as he makes her feel, as warm as she feels despite the lack of body heat.

Her fingers start moving again, pressing and kneading lightly at stiff flesh as her palm goes up and down, stroking with measured pumps. Carefully, she glances up at his face through snowy eyelashes, trying to see if some clue to how well she's doing - or not - lies in his expression and wondering if she can find the words to say that she want him now, that the subtle movements of his fingers are close to teasing with how she wants to feel him inside her.

But that's too forward, it's too much, and she can't get the words from her throat.

His expression is one of peaceful pleasure as he took enjoyment from both the sounds she was making and the feeling of her hand. The fact she was a woman and Jet wasn't seeming to have any troubles with that was a non-issue at this point. He could be confused by it later, right now he just wanted to be closer, deeper, to feel her squirm and hear her voice as she made her pleasure known.

He pumped his fingers in and out a while longer, preparing her as best he could before he caught her hand in his free one and held it beside her head as he finally removed the digits and shifted to press himself in instead.

His eyes never left her face as he moved, wanting to catch the smallest hint he should stop or change what he was doing as soon as she gave it. As long as he saw she was alright, he gently but firmly pressed the tip in, waiting a small moment before sliding the rest of the way in. She was so tight and warm and it felt so much better than he was expecting, that he picked up a deep and slow pace as soon as he could, his arms wrapping around her to hold her close.

She closes her eyes as he presses in on her, hand against his shoulders but not to push away. If anything, she's urging him on, slyly rubbing one leg against Jet's thigh as he moves inward, pulling a gasp from her as she's filled entirely with him. It feels amazing. So fulfilling and... nostalgic, she supposed the word for it is. She loves what she has now with Jett, but she missed this all the same.

She presses into him, not just with her hips but her entire body, practically melting with a quiet pant and moan against his chest as she slides her legs up to lock around his waist and keep him doing exactly what he's doing. "Oh..."

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same

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