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. can I speak please?I need your ear for a minute... Thank you... Amy is seeing this youngboy... Yes, Mom, he's a boy... Anyway, he seems really nice except fortwo things... Well first; he does whatever Amy tell him to do... What?Mom, I think "pussywhipped" is a bit strong... He seems very nice...And smart... has a part-time job... he's into sports... Helps Amy outwith her schoolwork... Huh? The problem is he does whatever Amy tellshim to do...Yes, literally, Mom... I mean she says jump and he'll onlyask "how high"... No, it's not sweet, Mom... He seems to have abackbone except around Amy...I 'm just worried 'cause it seems a littlebit on the dominant/submissive side of life, you know? I know kids aredifferent from when you and Dad and I were kids."Melissa took another deep breath and move the phone to her other ear."Mom... Amy's friend is a cross-dresser... Huh? What events does he runin?"Melissa sighed and rolled her eyes."Mom, I didn't say cross-trainer, I said a cross-dresser. You. He felt the change, within a minute of my handling him.“That is good, Ma. And I can feel your puss soften. It’s getting wetter, right?”I looked away. I could not admit that.Hory removed my hand and took his cock in his. He didn’t jack his shaft like I had, but he maintained rubbing the inside of my puss with his prick head. A few seconds later, he pushed again. Cock slid haltingly into me until is full hardness was buried. This time he did not delay. He began rocking his hips. His manhood stuttered until my wetness peaked, when it began to slide easily within my sinful passage. Like before, his strokes were shallow, but he enjoyed the movement, the fullness of my flesh surrounding his. “It’s only been a day, but your insides feel more wonderful today.”Like before, I lay limp beneath him. I could not face my son while he despoiled me. I feared his seed. My body danced without will from his pumping hips. “Maybe you don’t need to go into town.” He mused aloud. His bucking speed up. His.
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There was such a gush of them, that I was somewhat of a mess, with all the overlapping memories and experiences. I would read my early diary again a few times to ground myself in who I was. I had come to enjoy living through the other women in the books in my later years. It let me have a sense of who I really wanted to be. But the problem was I always knew how the book would end. But now, I was free to write new chapters in my book. I had a new start. I tried to find poor Charles, who was still somewhere within me but he must have been overwhelmed by all the women who came streaming into his mind at once. He was in here somewhere, but I could not find anything of him at this moment. Perhaps it was all the emotions running in me; being a man, he could not relate to it, so perhaps he became lost as we came in. Or perhaps he was still here in the primal parts of the brain, and I could find him. Oh how'd I'd love to talk with him. I would apologize for what I did to him, but he would.

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