She was dressed in her pink tank top and her purple lace boy shorts. I never could understand what she saw in me. She always told me she liked having ... man she could mold into her perfect lover. She was the first girl I had slept with and since then she had done just that, taught me a variety of different things. However, no matter how much she would try to mold me, I could not shake the feeling that she was getting bored with our sex life. “We need to talk” Her eyes suddenly stopped their. She was taking care of me, and if I started keeping things from her it would probably hurt her in the long run. I carefully thought about what to say to her, as I didn't want to upset her too much. I took a break from homework and watched some TV on the screen. There was nothing good on, but it was something to take my mind off my problems.She came in a short while later looking frazzled. I almost backed out, not wanting to burden her any more."Gwen, can we talk?" I asked."Sure, Mandy. What is. I told her that I would really appreciate anything she could do to help me.She banged on her keyboard for a bout five minutes straight and then she said, "I can put you on a flight to Memphis that leaves here in thirty minutes. From there we can put you on a 6:45 flight arriving in Raleigh at 9:50. Would that help?"I said, "Yes. You are a life saver. Thank you so much?"The agent looked at me and then over at the grumpy businessman she had just dealt with and then did some more typing on her. I had been fantasizing about this moment for years and now that it was here, I was terrified. Could I really go through with this? Not only was bestiality illegal—at least in Canada—but if people found out, my life would be over. Not to mention I was—and still am—a lesbian. The thought of a man’s hands all over my body repulsed me—sorry guys—yet the thought of a studly canine’s tongue doing the same made me tingle all over the place. Did that mean I wasn’t really gay? Or did it make me.