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Spot some nice hunky menthat you took a liking to? But I imagine a gay man wouldn't beinterested in a weedy man that looked more like a woman. So you came upwith this idea: become a woman and see if you could get lucky?"I was flabbergasted and didn't know what to say. This time she satsilently waiting for me to respond. After a minute, I tried to collectmy thoughts and came up with a cutting rebuttal. I said, "No, you'rewrong."She quirked an eyebrow and said, "Really? Why don't you show me where Iwent wrong then?"I was actually starting to get a bit angry now and words became easierto find, "Yes alright, I wasn't the biggest or best looking of guys andno there weren't many women who were interested in me, but I wasn'tgay. I had no interest in guys; I just felt my life was wrong and whenI thought about it, I realised what it was and decided to do somethingabout it."She gave me a sardonic smile and, in a quieter tone, asked, "Oh, so youaren't interested in men even now? Are you going. I can see the effect my slow approach is having on you. Your thighs rub together and your nipples become the red hot pokers that I long to latch onto and nurse from.This is the time I am in control, and I am taking advantage of it — taking advantage of the gift that is you, you giving yourself to me in this way. You know what you have done, and it is liberating for you to let go of all your control and just anticipate my next move. You quiver, your pussy getting wetter, your legs and thighs rubbing together, those soft sexual sounds escaping your lips — your motions so erotic and seductive. I see you struggle to give me more of yourself. You are reaching with more than your arms, your legs, your eyes. It is a reach that grabs me, a desire to catch you from falling. I am your anchor; I will be your core, your life saver.I approach you, and wrap my large hands around your wrists, gently but firmly pinning them against the wooden posts. Your own lips turn into a smile, both nervous and.
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It’s Smithfield. And who’s that with him…oh…no…’ ‘Shit…that explains the helicopter.’ ‘Yup.’ Collins tied-off the Zodiac and they both climbed aboard. The Presidents, both of them, were sitting the cockpit, deep in shade and both looked dazed. She was beside them now, the one Collins called Jennie, and the sight of her still unnerved him, left him feeling more than a little dazed. She was sitting on a hatch, looking at Sumner as he crawled over the coaming, and as he sat she ‘spoke’ to him – in her halting, fine-pitched voice. ‘The effect is still hard to watch, like sitting on a rattlesnake, Smithfield told me,’ she said. ‘We are sorry.’ ‘I know just how they feel,’ Collins said, looking at her. Perfectly human – aside from the pale, almost translucent blue of her skin. No hair – yet, she said – though maybe in time. She’d let him measure her once: 26 inches tall, 17 pounds, eyes the most piercing green he’d ever seen in his life. Fingers, toes: perfectly human – yet no breasts,.

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