then they sat down again in a chair, and this time Aunt Zhenya herself took up her transformation.

I wanted Dasha to be turned into a Ukrainian “Mawka”, a child of forests and fields: they removed the darkness, the heat, slightly “cooled” all the features, giving them a touch of Slavic sadness ...

Aunt Zhenya began to conjure, and again they sent me back home. When I returned, Aunt Zhenya used to pinch on Dasha, her back to me, some touches, saying “Right now, right now ...” Finally she called me: “Come on, look, dear - what you need, or not?"

I approached - and was stunned. In front of me sat a light-eyed, white-browed, white-bodied miracle with milky skin, pink cheeks, plump lips and - I don't know how Aunt Zhenya did it, but - with a snub nose. Miracle happily and slightly mockingly smiled at me, seeing my confusion and saying - “have we met somewhere, young man? ...”

When I cleared my throat and gave me a go-ahead, Aunt Zhenya raised Dasha, unexpectedly for everyone, stripping her down to her underpants (under Katya) - bare Dasha, not even having time to be shy, perplexed her eyes, and began to water her with a spray bottle. It turns out that it was necessary to hide Dasha's darkness, and Aunt Galya painted her neck, back, arms and legs “to the Slav”. Katya clearly admired Dashunya, upright on her nipples, and I watched Dasha’s body grow whiter and rosier, and swam inside for the shameful pleasure of Dasha.

Then Aunt Galya brushed some more - barely noticeable freckles appeared on her face, she dried her hair with a hair dryer, and Mavka was ready! Dashunya is naked, in some panties, without dressing, walked in front of the mirrors - and my breath away from her unfamiliar, but so tender, touching beauty. I would not recognize her again.

Dasha was like a drunk. The euphoria overwhelmed her, she fluttered and danced in front of the mirror, making faces and waving her boobs. Aunt Galya just exchanged glances with me and with Katya: “they pleased the child, they did a great deal” ...

Now it's my turn. For some reason I was scary, like in a children's game. I was put in a chair; Dasha, who was banned from dressing until the body was dry, came up and, flashing her boobs, gave instructions: to paint me a fiery red color! "You'll be Irish! ...”

All the time while I was painted, I was terrified; besides, I was suddenly terribly shy (which I had not been for many years). Naked - dried, but forgot to get dressed - Dasha fluttered nearby, commanding the process. She tried to expose, like me, but not here it was ...

However, I was painted much faster than hers: they managed to cope with her hair and face in an hour or more. After half an hour, I stopped recognizing myself in the mirror: they stuck my nose, pulled a bunch of patches - not the most pleasant feeling, by the way - and some Irish extremist was really looking at me from the mirror.

***

After painting, we, after thanking the indulgent, but contented aunt Galya and sincerely saying goodbye to Katyusha, held a blitz-meeting: where is it better to dress - at the bazaar in the new, or at home in what is? Because they painted us for a long time - we decided not to waste time and dress at home. A strange, exciting feeling - how people will react to our view? Is everyone aware that we are not us? - it was terribly interesting for us, and we mysteriously winked like conspirators.

And at home ... At home - life has made its own adjustments to the immaculately thought-out plan of our game, because I saw a chubby blonde chick, in the process of searching for clothes, threw everything off, and lost his head ...

A minute later we were moaning and rolling over the bed, forgetting everything, we just tried not to kiss, so as not to spoil the make-up ... I whispered to Dasha: “So, Katya, yes? Wow, Katya! In-in-in-you! In-in-that! ... ”- with each“ in-the-way ”, planting in it all the way with giblets. Dasha hooted and shuddered, burning me with saucer eyes - they expanded it, in my opinion, and sat down on me with the energy of a wild cat.In my opinion, I have never had such a log; it seems that I got them all the way to the uterus, because Dasha wheezed with every thrust, swallowed the air and whispered convulsively “deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper ...”

Such a powerful, crushing love wave - when it is impossible NOT to fuck together - we haven’t been around for a long time. The head of the "forbidden fruit" circled - sex against the rules, sex contrary to plans, sex here and now, and do not care at all ...

I pushed myself into her painfully, crushing, in my opinion, all her insides into a tortilla; then I realized what I had read in the Kama Sutra: I bent Dasha with a hook, frantically under her ass all our pillows (we have them on the bed), he got on all fours - so that the penis and the vagina were not horizontal, but diagonally or even vertically - and with force began to dive into Dasha and peck her like a pig, driving in piles. With such a position, if properly distributed, the weight of the body helps to penetrate into the very bowels ...

The effect was instantaneous: the snub-nosed face fluttered, froze - only lips silently whispered “more!” - eyes filled with fog, and ... Even I, it seemed to me, felt something deep, soft, hot, with the tip of a member - and only had time think: got to the uterus! ... Dashunya, distraught, took a gulp of air with a rattle - "You soooooos! ..." - and then there was something about than I recall with difficulty: a seizure of epilepsy, insanity, hysteria ... We both screamed and cried, tormenting each other without mercy; I again felt like a member plunged into a hot wave, splashed from Dashinyh bowels and burned my eggs. Dasha almost sprained my penis for me, and he was sick all day long ... and I just COULD NOT cum into Dasha, not to fill her with my seed and energy to the brim, to my ears, to dregs in my head! ..

They did not go to squirt, lying on top of each other and not having the strength to move, - I mentally justified by statistics, and Dashunya, in my opinion, would not mind getting pregnant for a long time, despite all the arguments of reason ... Let's see how it will be.

So, in fact, our game ended without starting. When they came to their senses, we looked at them condescendingly - “what can you do, they say, - la la vie”, - they smiled, made fun of our animal impulse ... But - really - what can you do: you saw each other transformed - and went crazy ... It was probably the secret, forbidden dream of betrayal, of sex with an unfamiliar creature, hence the taste of the “forbidden fruit” that stunned us like a bomb ...

The paint on Dashin's body was washed, and I washed it off with a soapy sponge, tying Dashunchik's hair; this procedure brought us again, and we made love right in the bathroom.

The second session was slow and gentle: we stood in the bathroom, embracing, rubbed with soapy bodies, and then I introduced the animated penis into the tired Dasha of Kisul, and we quietly danced our love dance. In the dance I talked with Dasha, licking her earlobes:

- Girl, what is your name?

- me? Olesya ...

- Olesya? What a beautiful name ... How does it go to your golden curls, to your blue eyes ...

- I was born in a golden field, under a blue sky ... Ooh! ..

- Field wind curled your hair?

- Yes-ah ... I flew with him, and the sun painted me with its gold. Aaaa! ..

- Ooh ... Girl, what do you feel?

“Oooh ... I am flourishing from the inside.” Lilies and cornflowers bloom in me. They ... aaaah! ... they bloom in me, and I die ... aaaaaa ...

- And I'm dying ...

... I wanted to cum fatally into it, but I had the sense not to play too much, and - each of us brought ourselves to the shower, trying not to splash faces. An orgasm from the soul is the sweetest, the most gentle - both for me and for Dashka - but his cunning is that it is impossible to guess the sweetest direction for the partner. Only masturbation is possible here ... So we finished: Dasha licked my ears while I was exhausted from the sweet streams, and I gave her nipples, continuing our conversation-game ...

Then - we, devastated, pulled on a couple of rags - and went out into the street. There was only a sundress on Dasha - no panties, no bra, even no shoes (lately she got into the habit of walking barefoot everywhere, even at the institute).Our makeup was preserved, and we decided to play a little. I called Dasha Olesya, she called me Mickey ...

***

... On that day - again, as before, Dasha did not want to part with the holiday, and we went to bed with make-up, without washing anything off. Waking up in the morning, we called each other Olesya and Mickey ...

The paint from the hair washed off safely, without a trace.

And we will definitely play “a foreigner and a translator”! But not soon: Dashkin's miracle is harmful to frequent painting ... Yes, and Dashkin's appetite for reincarnations seems to have subsided, and she scratches and cherishes her curls lovingly more than ever.

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