Hesitantly, she bent over andlifted one leg, placing it through the leg hole. Her breasts hung downbelow her, swinging as she wobbled. The other foot ...ent through and shebent her knees slightly, shimmying the smooth black fabric up herporcelain, shapely legs. She lifted the waistband, wriggling into thepanties. She shuddered as she felt the cotton touch against the lips ofher new vagina. She pulled it up to her waist and almost gasped as thethin strip in the rear was suddenly pulled in between. I couldn’t stand there watching her cry. I couldn’t. I pulled her to her feet. She looked at me with confusion in her wrinkled brow and narrowed eyes, in the impossible twilight of the storm. I crushed her body against mine in a solid hug as the elements shrieked and swirled around us. I clutched her hand tight in mine and dragged her to the nearest tent. Victoria stumbled after me and only watched as I threw open the flap to my tent and pulled her inside, fastening down the door in a vain. I asked the guy to top off the tanks, telling him we would only be there for a couple of hours. The manager came out, complimenting me on my craft. And my choice of companions.We walked along the front street for awhile, window shopping. I didn’t see anything I wanted the girls to have, most of it was just cheap, tourist junk. Carrie was holding my hand, and soon Sarah locked down on the other. We wandered into a bikini shop, but nothing appealed to me, so I asked the two girls behind the. Kinda, naïve, but so was I at his age."John Noland is an artist; a maker of pots, vases, etcetera, whose works of art may be seen in galleries and private collections throughout the West. He is a man approximately sixty years old, standing around six feet tall, astoundingly physically fit, and exuding a personality that naturally made most people want to be his friend.John welcomed the young man into his house and gave him a beer as he introduced me to the visitor. The two men sat down and.