Not at all." So if all I project is the image of a woman, and all you see is me doingthat, what is the impression I make?" That you're a woman." Exact...y. I can't speak for other girls like me. They may want to be knownas transsexuals or transgendered. But I see those more as clinical terms.I've always felt like a woman, or at least what I think a woman feels like-- and wanted to look what a woman looks like, or at least what I think oneshould look like. No two women are the same, inside or out.. The rest of me? Well, if they can recognize my ass, then they already know me far too well for it to matter. I hear one couple talk about me as they go past. The woman in the couple reaches out and strokes my chest. “Smooth,” she says. “I can’t feel any stubble.” She giggles and says, “He doesn’t have any body hair. I wonder how often he has to shave himself? Or does he use Nair once a week?”If they only knew. I only have to touch things up to stay this way. I naturally have almost no. She grew up with rich parents and went to an all white school but she was turned on thinking about how taboo it would be for her to be with a black guy not to mention all the stories about their size.He crawls between her legs and starts to eat her out. She is starting to get into it moaning and helping him out by spreading her pussy apart and playing with her big tits. She is usually pretty conservative so this is unusual for her to do especially when she starts to talk dirty telling him to. She's going to look so stunning but he knew that even without all that makeup and hairdo she was gorgeous anyway."Ok my lady, you ready for your wardrobe, makeup, and hairdo?" Gene asked playfully as Marissa stood in the bathroom.She shook her head fast. "Yes! I'm so ready! Make me over darlin'."Marissa closed her eyes and within seconds she looked in the mirror and her mouth almost dropped when she saw herself. Even she didn't recognize her own face. She looked so stunning! She wore a black.