When he was out I felt like ashell, empty to my core. When he was in me, I felt complete, totally at hismercy. I was enthralled. I was his, to do with...what he pleased. After a fewminutes we rolled onto our sides, nestled against him, I almost bent in halftrying to get him deeper and harder. My cock slowly came back to arousal andI began stroking it in time with his thrusts. I now knew why men lived inthe world as pre-op she-males. The complex sensations spiraling from myloosening asshole, mixed. And that would spoil all my fun.I sauntered across the heated stage, smiling and waving to the crowd. Women pressed on the cordon of police, screeching in delight like I was one of the Beatles and not a politician. I shivered, my futa-cock tenting the front of my skirt. I paused, blowing them a set of kisses.Phillipa's jaw set.I reached her a few steps later. “Madam President,” she said, extending her hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”“Not yet it's not,” I said, giving her a wink while taking. She teasingly ran long fingers over her knickers making them even wetter before reaching up and starting to unbutton her blouse which she now cast onto a chair, her lovely titties now just starting to sag slightly, but the coral tips nestling in chocolate aureolas were like hard pebbles. Now she began to moan softly and fondle and squeeze her mammaries rubbing the nipples as she did so, occasionally using her other hand to rub over her pubic mound as she continued to dance. Finally the teasing. She seemed uncomfortable with the world around her, and was always very jumpy. She seemed very ill at ease with hybrids. Not having grown up around them probably played a big part in that. She was also uncomfortable in her own skin, her movements clumsy, due to her change. Still, even given the fundamentalist brainwashing she had grown up with, she seemed a nice kind individual. If she could break that programming and become more comfortable with herself and others like her, she might well be.