So, for me, the best part about being a hopper is that I can be literally anyone. It was totally a fantasy come true when I learned of this precious gift. If I really trace it back, it goes back way into my childhood. I can remember wanting to be a family member of the sitcom families that I saw on tv. Not just a family member, but the characters themselves. How I longed to have the loving siblings and parents that were on those shows. Anything would have been better than growing up in my family. Pretty much, nobody saw me for who I was. My father tried in vain to mold me in his image, and my mother smothered the hell out of me. My older sister pretty much ignored me, because I garnered whatever attention she had once had as an only child. Not a very encouraging environment in which self-esteem could be built.
As I got older, I was really into disguises. I imagined how cool it would be to be able to disguise myself as anyone. Any type of cartoon caper or comic that had a disguised villain or hero was tops in my book. Then came puberty and blossoming sexual energy. A strange journey in and of itself, but add a layer of seeing a Judy Garland female impersonator for the first time, and it was instant erection! Men disguising as women, and looking great while doing it?! Hello! Sign me up! How perfect would that be for me? But how could I do it? Magic? Not likely. Masks and bodysuits? Only a dream. Holograms? Physical touch would give that away. Possession? I’m still alive, and not a demon to boot.
Although I never had the method for transformation, I could still dream. And dreamed I did. What would it be like to disguise myself as a beautiful woman? They have so much power! Men falling at their feet! Sugar-daddies! Privilege! Wealth! Opportunity! Ahh, to be a beautiful woman and have power over someone else for a change. To be able to fool someone into believing that I’m the beautiful woman that I appear to be would give me even more power. I know something that you don’t dear boyfriend. Somebody’s getting fucked here, and it’s not me!
Take what happened after the conference the next day. Christine tracked down Tim (the interrupter) from the night before. He fell all over us at the bar the next night. And ya know, we paid him in spades. He tried to wrangle one of his friends into our triumvirate, and we did our best to keep Tim’s friend on the edge of the unknown. Call us teases if you will, but look at it from our perspective. Tim’s friends will exalt him for weeks to come as the man who scored the two hotties that one night. Plus we did rock his world on the dance floor, oh and the taxi ride back. He also was the envy of every lone businessman at the hotel bar. We wanted to build his confidence and make sure that he was seen with one of us on each arm. When we got him up to the room, we took our sweet time. And God bless him, he let us lead the way. We even employed some creative camera shots with his camera phone so that our faces were never shown. My personal favorite was dismounting from Ali after Tim finally passed out and getting some face shots for our hero Tim. Anthony hopped out of Christine, and we got Tim some face shots of her too. We hope that he’ll be pleasantly surprised when he finds those pictures on his camera.
So you see, I was an emotional pauper who now gets to spread the wealth. How I wish someone would have done that with me. I guess that’s why I love the hopping so much.
And yet, there’s this little nagging voice that reminds me that I’m not the one really being paid attention to. It’s all the different faces that I wear. Those are the people who are being paid attention, not me. How do I get paid attention to? How can I repair this old wound?
“Ali! Come on sweetheart, we’ve gotta get dressed and get to the airport.” Right, the airport. Anthony always has some tricks up his sleeve to get us from city to city without ever having to pay for it. Daytona, New York, Paris, St. Maarten, New Orleans, Honolulu… I’ll have to pay more attention to how he does it.
“Where are we off to this time, Anthony?” I ask him using his name for the first time in a week. It seems appropriate because our time in Ali and Christine is winding down. We’ll get them to the airport so they don’t miss their flight, and that’s possibly where the next adventure begins.
“Well, we’re off to the Bay area.”
“Which bay numb-nuts?”
“That would be the San Francisco Bay area douche-bag.”
“Jeff, you won’t be calling me bitch once we get there. I’ll tell you more once we get on the plane.”
We get to the airport with it seems like hours before Ali and Christine need to board their plane. It helps for them to come to their senses after we dismount so that they can board their plane on their own. For us it doesn’t really matter because we can take any airline we want no matter what the schedule. We just need to find our mounts. This is where Anthony shines. He’s done this so many times that I swear he must have some sixth sense about who’s going where we want to be. This time around he finds us a newlywed couple. I find this out when the couple approaches me and I see Anthony in the man’s wife.
“Ali! It is you! I was just telling Brandon that I thought you looked familiar. Remember me from UCSC? Amy Matthews, well as of yesterday Amy Taylor.”
“Amy. Yes, now I remember. I don’t think that we ran in the same social circle, but I do remember having a girl-crush on you.” I want to see if I can make Anthony blush, but it’s Brandon who does the blushing. “Brandon, nice to meet you, and congratulations to both of you. Let me guess, you’re off to San Francisco?”
“How did you know?” asks Brandon. Just to play with him a little, I just say that I guessed since they probably need an international airport for a foreign honeymoon destination.
Amy invites us to sit together while we wait for our respective flights, and I need to find a place to mount Brandon. This will be more challenging that Anthony’s hop, which I imagine he did in the lady’s room. I’m a little pissed at Anthony for giving me the more challenging mount, but he knows that I love challenges. I also want to do this fairly quickly since I don’t want the newly unhopped Christine running in to me while I’m still occupying Ali.
I’m on the look-out for a discrete and private place to dismount and re-mount, and my prospects don’t look too good. We settle on a little restaurant that’s not too crowded at 10:30 am. I tip the hostess a $20.00 bill for the big booth way in the back, and let her know that we just want some privacy for old friends to catch up with each other. Fortunately, it’s one on those round booths so that Anthony and I can sit on either side of Brandon. We order some coffee and pastries as Amy and I catch up with one another. I’m scoping out methods for my way in to Brandon when my phone rings. I can see from the caller ID that it’s Christine, who I’m sure has a zillion questions. I’m not ready to go there with her, and turn the ringer off. I accidentally drop my phone under the table as I try to stuff it back into Ali’s purse. Of all the dumb luck…
“Fuck, I just dropped my phone. Brandon, can you help me reach it? I think it’s behind your feet under the bench.” As he heads under the table, I give Anthony a quick wink, who replies with some exaggerated eye-rolling. I dive under the table after Brandon, and start my dismount. I take him completely by surprise and he bucks for some time as the process of the mounting takes place. Fortunately, his loving wife Amy, my buddy Anthony, users her leverage on his rounded back to keep him under the table. It does stir up quite a commotion, and draws the waitress over. I can hear Amy tell the waitress very sweetly that we’re rummaging around for a dropped phone. To confirm the story, I pop Brandon’s head up and tell her that I found it. However, this leaves the semi-comatose body of Ali under the table. Once the waitress turns her heels, I pull Ali up from under the table and place her in a position in which she’s lying down across the booth bench with her head in my lap. I stroke her silky auburn hair.
“Married for less than 24 hours and you’ve already got some slut.” Amy spits out at me.
I look at her for about a second, and play right along. “Honey, it’s not what you think.”
“It’s not, is it? Well, let me tell you something Brandon: I think you must be bored with me and that you’re starting to stray. So, I’m going to take every opportunity I have to keep you interested in me.” With that she places her hand on my cock and gives a nice squeeze. She leans in and whispers, “Mile high club to kick off the honeymoon? It’ll have to be a quickie since it’s a short flight.”
We left Ali curled up on the booth with her cell phone ringer on high and vibrate so that she’ll wake up the next time Christine attempts to call her. Amy and I quietly slip out of the restaurant and walk hand-in-hand to our gate. For all intents and purposes, we look like a newlywed couple on the way to their honeymoon. And with Amy nibbling the fuck out of my ear, I damn well feel like a newlywed couple.
I must say that I also see the brilliance in Anthony’s selection of our mounts. They actually have more than just a layover in San Francisco, they’ll be spending a couple of nights there at the St. Francis, so it makes our dismounting that much more easy. Like I said before, he’s a master with that uncanny knack of finding the right hop. That we’ll be usurping their nights in San Francisco, I’m a little uneasy about. Christ, it’s their honeymoon. Hopefully for them this will be their only one, and I just don’t think that I can be a part of taking it over from them.
Once we’re settled on the plane, Anthony begins to inform me of his San Francisco scheme. Before he can lay it out, I throw some caution to the wind and tell him how uneasy that I am to take over Brandon and Amy’s honeymoon. Though I can tell he’s a little disappointed since he was hoping for lots of honeymoon sex, he will abide by wish to dismount when we can and turn their trip back over to them.
“Kiddo, you’ve got some weird ethics every now and then. I mean, here’s our opportunity to kick back and relax for a few days in SF, at the most primo hotel , and yet you’ll just let it slip away so Amy and Brandon can have their own honeymoon memories. You’re always thinking about someone else. How about thinking about yourself for a change?”
“Sweetheart… Here’s something for me: I want you to take that blanket, spread it across our laps, and give me a hand-job.”
“What?! No mile-high club in the aft bathroom? You selfish prick!”
“Hey now, what happened to thinking about myself for a change?”
“That doesn’t count when it comes to me!” And with that, Anthony displays the biggest pout face he can muster up in Amy’s body.
“Cutie-pie,” I say, “I’ve never made it to the mile-high club. Don’t think that I’ll miss that one. Especially with you! I know who butters my bread…”
“Aww… Honey we had our first honeymoon fight. I can’t wait for the make-up sex!”, she purrs in my ear. God I love when she does that. “But first, the San Francisco plan. Do you want to know now, or let it unfold before your very eyes?” I’m feeling like an unknown journey would certainly perk me up, so I opt to let it unfold. Her devilish gleam is both exciting and a tad anxiety producing. What am I about to get myself into?
My beautiful bride slips something out of her purse and then covers herself up with the blanket. She seems to be squirming around quite a bit, and then her squirms become more rhythmic. Then it dawns on me what she’s doing. “Are you masturbating sweetheart?,” I ask her. “Couldn’t you wait?”
She slows down a bit, opens her eyes, and turns her head to me. “Have you ever fucked in a plane’s bathroom before? I thought not. Lesson number 317: always carry a bottle of lube when flying. 1. It allows for easier penetration, as you know, because 2. There’s not much room in there for foreplay, 3. the bathroom soap sucks as a lube, 4. we want quick and easy penetration, and most importantly, 5. while you may blow your load in there, I may not. So, I’m going to orgasm now, so that maybe, just maybe, we can come together in the 5 to 10 minute window that we’ll be in there.” And with that, she returns to masturbating. God, why didn’t I think of that? I guess because I haven’t been there yet.
I lift up the armrest that’s between us, and motion for her to lean in to me. I grab another blanket and wrap her torso with it. We readjust slightly so that I can place my arm under the blanket, across her shoulders and place my hand over her breast. I knead it ever so gently, and once her nipples come to life I place my thumb and forefinger and give her a continuous rhythmic twist. Amy picks up her pace and after some time I feel her orgasm course through her body. Once her breathing returns to a slightly elevated pace, she grabs my hand and says, “Let’s go tiger!”
We make our way back to the bathroom, and I suddenly feel self-conscious. I imagine that everyone knows what we’re about to do. Then it dawns on me that who cares? They don’t see me at all. They see some guy named Brandon. And Brandon is a big fucking stud who could give a shit what other people think. Wow! Talk about brain re-wiring in less than 10 seconds…
When we get to the rear galley, Amy motions for me to wait a minute, and then come to the door. In the meanwhile, I start to work myself up to a throbbing cock. This is not too difficult as I’m excited as hell to join the prestigious mile-high club. I open the door after a quick knock, and slip inside. Amy’s got her sundress hiked up to her shoulders, and her thong moved to the side. “How is she?,” I ask. “How’s who?,” she replies. “It’s me, your wife, Amy, and I’m all juiced up and ready to initiate you!” Right, the role play… She slowly bends over and places her hands against the wall. I spit in my hand and with a few quick strokes I’ve given my cock some homemade lube. I have to bend my knees just a little to get myself in the right position, and rub my head against her dripping moist lips. A slight bump, forces me into her and I realize that this is not some slow seduction. The elements are against us, so I attempt to ease in as much as possible. Definitely not easy. Once I can feel the full lubrication of my cock with her lube and juices, I start the motion. God, she’s so warm and juicy! Ah, she’s into Kegel exercises, that’s nice…. 1-2-3 squeeze…. Oops another air pocket… I grab both of her hips for more leverage. There it is, getting deeper. Sweeeeet…. Here are my Kegels sweetheart….
Amy’s got her own little mantra going over and over, “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” and then a kegel. I appreciate her hands against the wall as it offers her some leverage and stability. But why the hell am I thinking that? Fuck her, fuck her, fuck her, squeeeeze….
There’s a knock on the door, and we both say “Occupied!” and then laugh hysterically. Whoops! More than one person in there.
I can feel my orgasm rising, and I shift ever so slightly so as to not come just yet. “I’m ready sweetheart, where are you at?” Just a minute she replies. So I take my left hand and stick it in my mouth to get it good and wet and then I start flicking her clitoris. “That’s it lover-boy. Uhn, Uhn, uhn..” I feel it starting to build within her, and bring my attention back to my cock. I shift again, feel the friction, rejoin the dance, feel light-headed, and release. She follows a few moments later. Not much of a post-bliss moment in an airplane lavatory. I look in the mirror at the usual awkward site of me and Anthony in some form of embrace. But what I see this time shocks the hell out of me.
“Amy! What’s happened to your face?!”
“Huh? Jesus Christ kid, you scared the fuck out of me! For a minute there I thought that you were really Brandon, and that you could see my real face.”
“What?! I’m confused. I thought that you were really Amy because I can really see her face and not yours. What the fuck is going on?”
“Tell you what kid. Let’s get cleaned up, and I’ll tell you what I know when we get back to our seats.”
On our way back to our seats, we ask the flight attendant for a double bloody mary and a double gin and tonic. They arrive shortly after we do.
“So what gives Anthony? How come I can’t see your face? How come I can only see Amy’s face? Are we having a bad hop? Is there such a thing? Do some hops just fuck you up?”
“Slow down, I ain’t the fuckin’ Shell answer man. No there’s no trouble with these hops. They’re just like any other hops – no big deal – nothing special. This happens sometimes…”
“What happens sometimes? Are you stuck in her? Can you get out?”
“Jesus Christ, ‘Brandon’! Take a fucking chill pill. There’s no problem. Just hold your questions and listen. Can you do that? Good.” I fill my mouth with a pull from my G & T instead of filling it with questions. “Okay, sometimes this happens to me, and I’m going to stress ‘me’ here. Occasionally I have the ability to hide the “tell” so to speak. I don’t always know when it’s going to happen, and what exactly causes it. I mean, I have some ideas, but nothing I want to get into just yet. Are you with me so far?,” he asks.
“Yes, I have some questions, but I can wait.”
“Good boy. Now, as I was saying. This doesn’t happen all the time – only occasionally. It freaked the hell out of me the first time it happened. You know the reaction – where’d my fuckin’ face go?! I asked my sponsor about it when it first happened. He said that I was pretty fucking lucky. Not everyone has experienced ‘loss of face’. He heard of some hoppers who mastered the ability to hide their real face. Hidden from the other hoppers. Can you imagine? He even told me about one guy who would wake up his mount once inside of her. I don’t know the circumstances, but that seems pretty risky to me.
So, long story short, my friend. Funky things happen. I imagine that most hoppers don’t pay attention to these extra gifts because they’re usually too busy getting’ their rocks off. And if they do notice, they probably attribute it to whatever they’ve been partying on – drugs, alcohol, you name it.”
We sit together in silence for a long time. I don’t quite know how to digest this new information. I mean, I never thought that I’d hop people, and yet here I am doing it. What else is possible?
Anthony’s face is back, to my relief. “So you had some questions, Hon-?,” he asks.
“Well, what’s the point of questions that can’t really be answered? Are you curious about being able to master this ability? What would you do if you did? I don’t know I’m just rambling on.”
“How old are you kid? Mid-twenties? I’m forty five and I have no idea how this all works – how life works – how hopping works. I’ve learned that you can’t know everything, that you can’t prepare for anything. I’m not being a defeatist here. I’m being a realist. I have no control over what happens. I can only make choices about what presents itself to me. Hopefully they’ll be somewhat informed decisions, but not always. Capisce?” I see that Anthony’s presenting me with Zen and the Art of Body-hopping. At least his take.
“You side-stepped my question there.” I mean, come on, I want to know what he’s going to do.
“Well, I didn’t answer it how you wanted me to. Yes, no, maybe, I don’t know. Take your pick. Let’s turn that question around. How does my decision about me concern you? What will you get from my answer? Truly, my answer is not important to you. How would you answer that same question for yourself? Are you curious about having that ability? What would you do if you had it?” Not exactly the response that I was expecting from Anthony. Not really the one that I was wanting either. I’m a little pissed off that he won’t answer my question, and yet his throwing the question back at me really gives me some food for thought.
Amy finishes her bloody mary, lets down the tray on the empty seat next to her and puts her plastic cup on it, and puts her tray in the up position. She puts the armrest between her and the empty seat up as well, and twists herself around so that her feet are on the empty seat. She then lowers the front of her torso to the front of mine so that her back is to the seat in front of me. She snuggles in like a cat trying to get comfortable on a lap. Amy tips her head back a bit and looks at me for quite a while. Although I see Anthony’s face, I kind of wish it was Amy’s face. “Penny for your thoughts slugger…”
“Well… You feel like a duck, you sound like a duck, you smell like a duck, you certainly fucked like a duck, but I kind of wish you looked completely like a duck. I didn’t know that that was even possible until twenty minutes ago. I guess that I want the full illusion. Hell, I want to be able to do what you did. No more hiding from camera phones, mirrors, reflective glass…” I trail off in thought again.
The rest of flight was nothing to write home about. Anthony did have a surprise for me when we landed at SFO. He called ahead for a limo pickup at the airport. Well, a town-car was more like it. Still, it’s really nice not having to rely on a shuttle or taxi to get anywhere. I’ll have to remember this for future travel. Anthony’s such a pro, and I have so much to learn from him. I just hope that he doesn’t tire of me…
From arrival through check-in through actually being in the room at the St. Francis was smooth as silk. Our room wasn’t exactly the honeymoon suite, but we did have a spectacular view of the city. It wasn’t my first time in San Francisco, but I’m amazed every time I return. This time has to be tops. Anthony was right, this hotel is primo! And this is exactly why I don’t want to take over Brandon and Amy’s stay here.
“Kiddo, how about we switch up? I thought that you’d might enjoy a little go in Amy here. You know, have a bath, get cleaned up, get dirty again. You know the drill.”
“Jeez, you make it so romantic. But you know that does sound good to me. I still don’t want to take over their honeymoon. I was hoping that we could set them up with a nice dinner somewhere, find another hop, and let them enjoy their stay. That’s what would work for me.” I hope that he can hear that without hearing it as nagging.
“Dude… I’ve got it covered. We’ll dismount by four o’clock maybe five o’clock the latest, and we’ll each have someone to hop into ready and waiting for us. No worries, huh?”
“Aww, it’s so cute when you call me dude. Okay, let’s do it.”
Once we settle things up and we exchange our hops, I ended up having the most incredible bubble-bath. The tub was huge! It really helped that Anthony set me up with some candles and some really soothing music. He dallied a bit in the main room; I imagine getting things ready for our replacement hops, and dinner for the two honeymooners. We ended up having sex only the one time in the afternoon. I must say that it wasn’t as exhilarating as on the plane, but it was fun none-the-less!
I guess what I’m actually discovering for myself is that I love sex, but most importantly I love sharing it with someone who actually considers me in the relationship. Take Anthony for example. He’s phenomenal in the sack. Not because he’s all about the orgasm – it’s because he’s attentive to whomever he’s with. He makes everyone feel at ease. He’ll make sure that you’re comfortable – that it feels good for you. He doesn’t press his agenda upon you. It really is a dance with him, sometimes he leads, and sometimes you lead. Not to be all air-fairy, but it’s truly an organic process that unfolds from moment to moment. I really like that.
As we bask in out post-sex bliss, I feel so fortunate to be here. I can feel my heart beating strong, and my breath returning to normal. I love the smell of the crisp sheets, the bubble-bath that’s still lingering on my skin (although I’m in Amy, it feels like my skin), and the musky smell of sex that occasionally wafts up from beneath the sheets. And that I’m in the arms of someone that really cares for me is the bonus special. Or is this just an illusion that I’m falling for? The role play? Maybe I just can’t trust myself. Maybe I just need to stop hopping and feel it for myself. Fucking Doubt! Goddamned ambivalence! What the hell is real?
“You’re heads burning, kiddo. I can feel it going a mile a minute. Care to share?” Ugh. How the hell did I get to be so transparent.
“The fucking usual: ambivalence and doubt. Is this real? Are you real? Am I real? What’s really happening here? Can I even trust how good this feels? When’s the other shoe going to drop? I’m just fucking sick and tired…” I just blurt out totally uncensored.
Anthony turns Brandon’s body toward mine, and he moves in for the spoon. He hooks his arm underneath mine, and put’s Brandon’s hand between my breasts – just over my heart, really. He holds me there until it seems like our breath synchs with each other. But kind of the opposite effect – his out breath to my in breath. It feels very soothing to me, and I notice that I start to bring my awareness more to this feeling than my thoughts.
“Listen kiddo, I don’t know what it was like for you growing up, but I have a pretty good idea that you probably didn’t get appropriate attention from your family. And I personally think that that’s a fucking shame, cuz they missed out on what an amazing person you are. Hell kid, I really like you. I just don’t hang around with anybody. I hang out with you cuz you’re fucking brilliant, and creative, and fun. I may tease you about your ethics, but I really admire you for them. Most hoppers could really give a fuck about who they hop. They steal money, they abuse their mounts’ bodies, get people fired, do all kinds of mean nasty shit, and then just dump them. No fucking remorse. Maybe that’s the kind of shit your family did to you, because you just won’t engage in that stupid shit. I really admire how you care about people, about your mounts. I mean just look at where we are right now. Brandon and Amy on their honeymoon. I know how much it means for you to let them have it themselves, and I really respect you for that. And by the way, they’ll be having dinner at the Slanted Door with a great view of the Bay at sunset. You have heart kid, and it’s contagious. I like that about you.”
We lay there for some time, as I’m trying to find a place for that to land. And I can tell that it’s landing somewhere within me, because my eyes are getting moist. Anthony moves just a little so that he can place his mouth next to my ear. I know because I can feel the warmth of his breath caressing my ear. He ever so gently whispers into my ear: “You’re so special, you can do anything.” I feel the hot tears rolling down Amy’s cheeks.