Funnily enough, how I met Megan was a story in itself. Megan was a pretty, curvaceous girl who was also in band. She was one of the ones who carried t...e flags. (They were all female, also, by the way) She was a year under me and was mixed with black and Latina. In the first few weeks I was in choir, getting my feet wet, thinking about making damn sure I hit my notes correctly, I felt a playful pat on my butt.“What the…”It was Megan, she was behind me, giggling.I looked at Paul, and said:“What. "Oh fuck, Mike. It already feels so enormous! You've got such a big prick! You're almost as fantastic a fuck as my son!"Angela was teasing him, and Mike responded with a heavy fuck thrust between her ass cheeks. Angela groaned and fell flat on her belly on the floor, squashing her tits on the rug. But she kept her fingers inside her hairy pussy slit and continued to fingerfuck as Mike pushed his cock slowly up her ass tunnel."Easy, lover! What a big fucking prick!"Mike moaned as he felt her. I look around for eyeshadow, finally finding some in a palette of colorsin the side drawer. Using the small pad, I gently apply some to my lidsto make them stand out a bit. I decide to skip the eyeliner. After all,I just need a bit of brightening up.Finally, lipstick. I find a whole drawer full of tubes on the right handside and pick one out. Wow, that's red! I'm just about to put it onwhenI stop--What am I doing?I sit back and look at myself in the dressing table mirror. I lookaround the room. On Allland there was a glowing slab in the very air telling you something was about to happen. Here there was nothing to see, the apartment hallway looked just as it always did. One step we were on Earth, in New York, the next we were back at the Fort Lascall great-room. I’m just glad that otherwise it was like any other door - no dizziness, no feeling like a bowling ball sucked through a straw or any of the other descriptions of dimensional travel you read about in science fiction. Taking that.
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