Her gasping got a bit louder; she groaned as well and went all stiff, for quite a few seconds; then she sagged down onto Mr Whitaker and lay on him, w...ile he stroked her back and ass. John realised it had been an orgasm. Also he realised that her ass was smooth and pert and sexy.His hardon was uncomfortable in his shorts, it was bent over somehow. He rolled onto his side and undid his shorts so he could rearrange it. But he found that when he touched it, it felt good. Really good. He didn’t. Actually it's Elizabeth now. That's what his mother wanted to name him if he'd been born a girl. Please try to come to terms with that. I like you, and I still want you in the family." Grandma went back upstairs, leaving me and Janice to figure this out. I was scared to death, and I think Janice was just wacked out. I poured us some more coffee, and we began to recover our wits. It was obvious she was telling the truth. Here I sat in a nightgown, small but now distinctive breasts hanging out. So, Stacey would read...erotic short stories. While reading she would put herself in the story. So one time she could be riding a man's face, next she could licking a clit, she could be getting fucked by two men,...the stories could take her anywhere. She would use her own fingers or her favorite toy. Sometimes she could reach a climax in moments...other times she would enjoy the ride for awhile. Stacey's husband had a shift change, leaving her alone at bedtime. Since her husband was the who. She knew he always said exactly what he wished to say to her, and asked of her exactly what he wanted her to do. No guessing, no being unsure of whether her actions pleased him. She knew that in this relationship she had lost some of the independence that many people treasured, but in return she had been truly liberated. She had traded the ability to choose for the ability to feel. She had traded an existence based on guesswork and subterfuge for one of certainty and trust. If you are.