On this particular occasion we had our usual Friday night session and the following morning I decided that the first port of call would to visit Janet... my mother-in-law. She was a well-built lady in her sixties who carried her years well and was always very well dressed. She often used to wear black seamed stockings, which always caught my attention, although as she was a dedicated churchgoer I always dismissed any thought that there was a sexy lady here trying to express herself.I was in. Her hand moved between her legs; washing her pussy I assumed. But it stayed there. Rubbing. Her breathing started to get deeper, more gaspy. Her hand rubbed her slick slit. Then she parted her legs, and pushed two fingers into her sopping cunt.I must have made a sound; a gasp or some other noise. She stopped, rigid. Eyes snapped wide open, fingers plopping from her sticky slit. She looked around, then saw the hole … and my eye glued to it. Next thing I knew she was hammering on my cubicle. As long as I could keep him from talking religion withUncle Tim, everything would be fine."Every transsexual has to struggle with figuring out at what stage ofknowing someone they should tell about their past. I've had a lot of lucktelling people about it very early on, but making it look like a joke or ablatant lie, and then letting them decide to slowly take it seriously attheir own pace. I don't know if that would work for other transsexuals ornot; it might be hard to pull off if you. I got behind her, keeping space between us and resting my hand on her shoulder. She said “closer honey; hold me tight”. She reached up and grabbed my hand and pulled it to her breast as she scooted her ass back until it was pressing against my cock. I went back into that don’t cum mode telling myself to just lay there. But she started grinding her ass against my hard on as she started pressing my hand against her breast. I could feel her nipple get hard through the thin nightgown. She let go of.