Then I started to move my hands up her belly. It was so silky that that it kept slipping, moved around covering her entire belly area. Swati kept her ...yes closed and appeared to be sleeping. But my Junior was awake now and restless inside. I moved my hands a bit more and met a tight fitted cloth, tried to put my finger inside it, but failed. Realized that this peel that is obstructing my hands, covers the luscious mango and is called bra. Unable to put my hand within, I started to rub her boobs. They had Irish sweaters that they sold on commission for local ... what? Knitters? I didn’t know, but I thought they looked nice. I got one for Cynthia, Mom and Aunt Daisy. Grandma and Grandpa probably had dozens. Would they call them Irish sweaters here or just sweaters? It was like wondering if they just called it food when you have Chinese food in China.I would have been a little more careful about my money, but Grandma left a Bible in my room with an envelope under it that held ten. ‘PLEASE!’ ‘Isn’t it ironic,’ the voice muses. ‘So many men would like to have their dicks cut off just so they can experience the joy of womanhood. To avoid the draft. To be treated like ladies. Is this even logical? Why would you want to become something so.. inferior, something so.. humiliating? I know you, Mark. I know you did not harbor such desires. You are probably wondering: why me, then? Why not some tranny? Well, at least now you know how difficult it is to transform a man. Yes, it is. I usually just browse around till I’m horny enough that I’m on the edge of cumming then jack myself off to take care of it. This day was different though. I log in to the website and within about 5 mins, an older man in his 50s messages me asking me how my day was. I was horny as hell that day so I told him that right away, I figured it is a hook up site, just get straight to the point. I knew he read my profile as well, mentioning that he liked younger guys that were into older guys like.