Tayla grew concerned as she saw the tears sliding down her friends face. What she could not see was the large smile hidden by the cocoon of blankets. ...he slipped down off the bed onto her knees, taking the blanket with her. She grabbed her friends head, and softly, ever so softly, kissed her lips. She kissed her cheeks, her forehead, even her eyelids. Finally she pulled away, seeing the trails of tears that had fallen onto Taylas face from her own, she smiled in joy and spoke, I love you, do. That path led to a car park with people coming from it. A couple of men and an older teenage boy stared at me but no one said anything. I wished that Aryn was carrying me over his shoulder so that my legs were spread and those men could have seen all of my pussy instead of just the front of my slit.We walked through the car park to the end of the village and saw one of those souvenir shops. It had a sign with pictures of ice creams on it and Wren asked Aryn if she could have one.“Good idea. That’s not his real name. Once a punk has been turned out as a sissy, his owner will give him a "street" name – a female name. And from that point on that sissy will, for all intents and purposes, be a woman. Pinky is 34, but appears to be much younger. “She” has been in prison for almost a year now. “She” has belonged to JJ for most of that time. Pinky’s smooth white skin is covered in prison tats – crude, homemade tattoos. Pinky is what is known in the joint as a “Patch Carrier”, meaning. Sometimes she would back off and slurp the underside of my throbbing dick, other times she would take it into her mouth until it hit the back of her throat. With one hand she squeezed the part she couldn't get past her lips as her other hand caressed my balls. It felt amazing and I sensed the pressure building in my testicles, just waiting to spew.My back started to ache from the awkward leaning position. Then something caught my eye: metal grips attached to the side walls. They looked like.