" So if all I project is the image of a woman, and all you see is me doingthat, what is the impression I make?" That you're a woman." Exactly. I can't...speak for other girls like me. They may want to be knownas transsexuals or transgendered. But I see those more as clinical terms.I've always felt like a woman, or at least what I think a woman feels like-- and wanted to look what a woman looks like, or at least what I think oneshould look like. No two women are the same, inside or out. I am as. James’s hand was still on her leg trying to get further up them.After a little added maneuvering Betty was on her back while I crawled on top of her. James finally gave up the effort and rose to watch. I had the top two buttons undone working on the third; her chest would soon be exposed for my pleasure. Then Betty sort of woke up from her trance.Betty started a very physical protest pushing my hands away just as the dress was open enough to reveal some flesh. Every time my lips went into the v. But still he'd held back his consent, as a matter of pride, he realized. His manly image of himself in her eyes was at stake. And he didn't want to seem too pliable, too easy. Then for two days, no phone calls came, and his resolution turned to jelly. He thought he'd lost her. One morning he woke up hoping she'd call yet again, while he was still in bed, so he could tell her "Yes! Of course! Anything!" He couldn't forget that earlier glorious morning when he had awakened to. Braxton stood me up in front of him as he stripped naked. His gorgeous body reminded me of all the athletic men I used to fuck. Daniel was built like a beer-drinking dad. Braxton was built like a breeding bull, oversized cock and all.Once naked, he leaned forward and gently kissed my belly button before pulling me back into his lap. My soaked blossomed lips landed on his throbbing monstrosity. His girth felt good between my labia, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how good it would feel inside.