A woman who was not my mother. A woman with no face. As if on cue, I heard a car pull into the driveway. A stream of light briefly and rudely shone th...ough the windows. It spilled over the walls as if competing with the dull overhead light I'd always liked; the only thing unchanged in my memory. Just as I heard footfalls on the porch, I glanced over and noticed a deflated air bed, folded up in the far corner of the room. Something wasn't right.Their kisses were a quick exchange. Nervous.. My voice would then always sound higher no matter what I said and how I said it. I decided that this change was essential and would be better in the long run. Finding out that it was irreversible gelled me into action.Before my surgery I?d tried voice tapes, I tried to adjust my voice in many ways but it would just revert back to the male timbre with often embarrassing consequences.Just a few days before my voice surgery I had one bad encounter in a local store and that convinced me that the. You are wet aren’t you…here, let me feel.” He reached across, putting his hand on her thigh and sliding it up under her short skirt.“Stop it,” she said, pushing his hand away, “keep your hands on the wheel.”“Go on, just a quick feel,” he said putting his hand back on her thigh.“I don’t know what’s got into you,” she said, “ever since you started watching that stuff on the internet you’ve gone sex mad.”“I haven’t heard you complaining,” he laughed, sliding his hand between her thighs, encouraged. Leaning previous to massage her clit in a circular motion which matched my stroke. It seems that before I could even spell my name she began moaning my name in that moment & my dick was being pushed out of her snatch while being clamped as her coochie contracted on contact. More tamed,a whores shamed as a wars waged on her womanhood. On her back in missionary missing much of my manhood,her mouths muted by a pillow to drown the naughty noises released in romance. So sexy,the sight of soaking.