"She sighed a little annoyed, "Uh.. yea?" she said in a mocking voice."Uh, what I mean is..." He cleared his throat. "I've dreamt every day of being...your boyfriend." Jen crossed her arms and waited for him to continue. He was so stupefied he started rambling on, "I used to imagine you would tell Russ that I you had a crush on me and would tell me and then set us up on a date and we would drive around town and, and, and..." He didn't know where he was going with this story and started. Perhaps we gender benders should take a cue from those whose sexual orientation has been so much cause for comment. They seem to be satisfied with simply "gay" and "lesbian", a sexual segregation, which perhaps makes sense. With just these two descriptions they have created some great acronyms, yet the simplicity of the labels speaks for itself. Personally I'd be satisfied with "man-in-a-dress" and "crossdresser" is good enough for me. I really don't need to have some esoteric combination of. As I did this, I could hear her breathing shorten. Soft moans escaping from her mouth. I poured on more lotion, and began to rub her ass again. As time passed since the fall, the damage from the sc**** and the tearing of her bottoms from her body were become more noticable. Not only was their a red line. You could follow that line from her hip, across her cheek, and continuing between her thighs. I began thinking of my daughters young pussy again. How it looked as she sat in front of me. “You have your work cut out for you,” he said and we left the office. Ms. Smith, or Jean as she told me to call her, filled me in on our itinerary as the big black car rolled through the streets of San Francisco. A stop at the spa, then a salon, then some serious shopping would pretty much fill the day. In the morning, we would go to a girl-coach, who specialized in assisting cd’s with walking, moving as talking. We had to be ready for Daddy0’s party by 7 p.m. After stopping by a shop to pick.