" She guided me to the mirror, and I looked on with horror and a strange thrill. It would be hard for somebody who just met me to believe that I ha... ever been a man. My body was that of a muscular girl, with firm legs and arms, a flat belly, and nice pear-shaped breasts. My face still looked a little like me, or what my sister might have looked like if I ever had one. The only sign of maleness was my short hair. I was still a man, I told myself. "You look filthy. Get into the tub.". Of course, she had announced last night that she’d prepare left-over meat loaf for tonight. But she sailed right past those inconvenient facts to get to the hardness of her struggle.“And I am impressed. Look how fast you’re working. And it’s only an hour after the food was supposed to be ready. And such lavish attention to the preparation, too. Warm up the meal in one frying pan.”“Well, I never claimed that operating the stove was an esoteric art. I even implied that even a man who needs. When I think this was in the early sixties and sex liberation hadn’t quite got off the ground. We were still hampered by contraception considerations (though not an issue with Beth as she was rapidly approaching menopause). I did things with her that didn’t surface again until years later in our enlightened sexual age. I didn’t cum in her bum but just separated and we sat out on the verandah and had breakfast. As we ate she started talking about matters sexual. “You know I’m not supposed to. She slowed as she had never seen him before. He looked about her age with a sharp military style hair cut that consisted of a darker brown shade. Not overtly muscular but defined his body was tone and vascular. She saw he had no armpit hair nor did it look like arm hair was exist an either. Kelly was always one for extreme detail. As she passed he looked up as she almost froze in his sharp gaze from those amber green eyes. A light smile covered his face. She smiled back and quickened her pace..