Sometimes we caught fish and frogs. Sometimes we playedwith dolls and sewed like girls do. Sometimes we dug in the garden.Sometimes we went to the mov...es and held hands like boys and girls do.We both loved to dance. My mother asked if we'd ever kissed. Greta said she was thinking of it.Maybe some time we'd try it. We reassured my mother that we certainlydidn't want to kiss anyone else.Going to school was a problem. Public schools couldn't relate to someonewho was a girl one day and a boy the. My cock was so hard as I imagined running my fingers along the inside of her thigh and up under her skirt, Jasmines legs opening a little more as I reach the soft mound of flesh hidden there, my other hand tracing tiny circles around her navel before sliding up beneath her tshirt and cupping and squeezing one her small but perfectly formed breasts, feeling her nipple harden against my palm as my fingers caress her twat, lips seperating around the tip of my middle finger as I slowly trace it. “Oh! But then you are pretty good for a first timer,” I said seductively.Keeping my cup on the table, I pulled his face close so that he was looking at my cleavage and gently kissed his forehead. I held his head for a few seconds hoping he would bury his face on my chest. But he slowly pulled back, looked me into the eyes and said, “Let's move to somewhere more comfortable.”Before I could answer he hugged me and stood. I was shocked at his strength and straddled this hot guy as he carried me to. Mom came over and hugged me, which just started me off more, and I suddenly realized I should have hugged more when I was still a man and not worried about whether it was manly. After a while the tears slowed and I became aware that our breasts were touching, and of the nice feelings coming from them. I started to giggle, and it sounded a bit hysterical. Mom pulled back, looking into my eyes as if searching for a sign of her son. "You sound just like Cathy does," she said. At that point I.