I looked down at Becky as she lay on the floor for a long time. I reached down and helped her to her feet. She was weak in the legs and virtually fe...l into me. "Come, let's bathe," I said. Instead of a shower, I drew a hot bath and settled in to the water then I helped her into the water and she sat down between my legs and nestled that round bottom into my semi-hard dick. As we languished in the warm water and gently washed each other, I pondered this tryst and what it meant. I thought. Marsha's muscles tightened around his dick, gripping his pole, and that's when I nutted him. I jerked my hand, with a slight sawing motion, and as I did, I heard the boy scream into his gag. He felt it all; felt her pussy, felt the blade, felt the cut and the slice and the sawing motion as the sharp blade of my knife sliced through the essence of his manhood. It didn't take that long, and then it was done. He squirted more of his wad as I nutted him, dumping his cream into Marsha perhaps in. I cried at the humiliation, at the loss of my newly acquired femininity. I felt myself getting sick, so I ran to the bathroom and discovered to my continued disgust that Steve had taken my shorn hair -- my beautiful, gorgeous hair -- and had thrown it in the toilet. He had then peed on it. Of course, this thick mass of hair refused to flush, so the toilet had clogged. Between sobs, I pulled out the wet, filthy mess, then cleaned the toilet, freeing the blockage. I found myself. I slightly turned around, and I was really proud of this feature of mine. My bum is extremely well rounded, not a single stretch mark, a perfect crack. It is almost proportionate to my breasts but slightly bigger. I said to myself – “Swe, you are a beautiful woman.”I was getting late, I thought. I lit a cigarette. Walked towards my Wardrobe and chose my beautiful pair of sky blue lingerie. The bra was professional wear, but I had chosen this one for special occasions. The cup was of 34B pushup..