Valentine's Day is one of those days I tried to forget about. Being a construct of the flower and greeting card industries, all it does is depress me ...nd everyone else who is alone. The kids had spent the day passing candy, flowers and stuffed teddy bears around school. A couple of them even gave me the token Valentines you pass along to your grandparents, the pastor and teachers."Mid-terms are coming up and I have got to get these papers done before I get swamped with exams." My heart started. They stored beer and liquor in another room. You had to walk past the bathrooms, pool table and dart board to get to it. It was out of the way and the band drowned out any amount of noise you made back there. It was 11 o’clock. I left the lights out as planned. I lifted my dress and gave my pussy a good rubbing. A little tug on the lips, then some clit, back to the lips. I wiped my juices all around. I was excited, I had a good flow going. I bent over the chair just a couple minutes. I'm not a woman. I've known for decades now that I'm supposed to be female. I might have been six years old when I realized I felt happier around girls and had more in common with them, from wanting to play with their toys to desiring to wear their clothes. The need never went away. I kept hoping that it would, but it never has. For a variety of reasons I have never seriously considered pursuing sexual reassignment surgery. My wrestler's build, for one. My family, for another. Now that my. He told me that this is something that had been gnawing at him from his earliest recollection. He wanted to start gender counseling in preparation for hormone therapy. After a year of living as a woman, it's called a Real Life Test; he would then be eligible for surgery. At this point, he's about 10 months into his RLT. Does any of this make sense to you?" she begged.My father and I exchanged glances of disbelief. This had been a hell-of-a day. My father replied, "As a matter of fact, it.