Objects of Desireby Rodford Edmiston     They were cuddled together in bed, spending some time in erotic playbefore going down to breakfast. Finding the wishing ring had made theirlives free; they had money, now, and time. They could indulge themselvesin any way they wanted. Some people would have begun a destructivedownward spiral of hedonism, but they hadn't. They had enough sense touse what the ring gave them responsibly.

    She giggled as he playfully grabbed her breasts, mock- wrestling heronto her back. He kneaded the spectacular pair he had wished for herlast night, making her shiver with pleasure.

    “What is it with you and boobs, anyway,” she said, playfully.  “Allyou want to do is fondle and lick and squeeze them.”    “I don't know,” he replied, smiling, keeping his hands busy. “Iguess its just part of being a guy. All I know is I wish I could spendall day holding your tits.”    There was a startled pause, as they realized that he was stillwearing the wish ring. Then he gave a cry, which dwindled to nothing ashis hands flowed across her breasts, turning white and flat and cottony,followed quickly by the rest of his body. The ring plopped onto the bedbeside her.

    She grabbed the ring in a panic, and jabbed it onto her finger, thenpaused as she realized two things. Though the ring might not give themexactly what they wanted, it could not directly harm them, as they wereit's true owners. And he had included a duration. She grinned as sheexamined the new bra. It was warm and soft and fitted perfectly, andfelt as if it were alive. An impish idea struck her.

    “Well, dear, it looks like you're stuck for the day,” she said,wondering if he could actually hear and understand her. She played withher large, shapely breasts, fondling herself through the fabric of herhusband. “Don't worry, I'll make it up to you. I'll be your jock straptonight.”This document is Copyright 1999 by Rodford Edmiston Smith, who can becontacted at: [email protected] by those wishing to arrange permission toreprint this story.