Her hoop skirt was still on, the hem pointing to the sky like a satellite dish.Kirsten. Oh, good grief.If it hadn't been for the bladder pressure, he ...ight not have made much of it, but it aching in his groin had wakened him enough for the shock to penetrate through. He knew he had to do something about it, but what wasn't too clear. Well, one thing was clear, he needed to get some of the pressure from his yellow eyeballs off of his brain.Somehow, he managed to roll over onto his side, put his. Those of you who’ve read my previous posts know I have a thing for trans-ladies. So there I was, sweating through my clothing and posting when I should have been jumping in the pool and taking a shower. Like I said, I really wanted to get laid. In any case, I got the usual craptastic array of responses that I’ve grown to accept and casually ignore. I did however get the following response from a very sexy lady: Into oral, verse, kissing, making out, rimming.And if that wasn't promising. I didn't even remember ever seeing some of them. We ate in the living room, sitting anyplace we could find and nearly filling the place up, and it was a big living room. They'd planned things well and had a chair for me, off in a corner. I was facing the rest of the room and to me it seemed we were having a tribal meeting of some kind. After the meal I found out it was exactly what was happening.It took an hour for me to summarize what we'd talked about during lunch so the others could get. I felt clean as a whistle in body and soul as I entered the Harley Street consulting rooms of my new gynaecologist. She had given me her final appointment of the day, so that I wouldn't be spotted by my adoring public, or the tabloids, while getting my bits checked out.Maggie was in her late fifties, plump, small, all folds wrinkles and smiles. She looked rather like the actress Miriam Margolyes, and seemed to share some of her wickedly rude sense of humour. She had me in fits of laughter as.