He and I led the way and the guys and our girls shuffled the forty or fifty feet to the front door and inside. Once inside, Stella pulled her top from...around her neck and over her head. Her skirt was pulled from around her waist and down to puddle at her feet. Guys were stripping down as Hope was likewise divested of her clothes.A couple of guys lay down on the floor and the girls mounted them pushing a cock into each cunt. They were fucking hard. Paul and I noticed that no one was going for. I decided that I should write a short essay on my approachto TG fiction.The last time I did this (at 100 stories) I was accused of "blowing my owntrumpet" so I should say that I am not saying that my stories are special,I am just trying to explain why I am always searching for something new.People who read my stories will note that the common thread is unintendedchange of sex. That is not always the case. Many of the changes are (touse the Fictionmania category) "Voluntary", although some of. I closed my eyes for a minute. When I opened them again, My Nonno Joe was standing in the doorway. Joe was in a costume that looked as if he was going to be introduced at the court of Catherine the Great. Wig, coat, lacy shirt, shoes, everything. Joe was watching me getting my puss eaten. I saw him upside down, but he was smiling. Even though I was getting it from Wanda, bouncing my hips into her face, I forgot about the sex that was happening between my legs right away. I stood up, leaving. Mother asked for help around the house. Father didn't need my help on thefarm. It was more appropriate for me to dress like a girl as I was doinggirl work. I was invited to the quilting club and the women there acceptedme as the daughter that Mother wanted. The girls at school fell into thatlittle deception as well. One of the girls kissed me at church with heavylipstick and Mother liked seeing me in lipstick, and the rest of theclothes just kind of made since. And because I was dressing more.