My son was directing how I should fuck, and how I should be fucked. I was his slut model. I was wet, my nipples erect with excitement. My mouth was fu...l of my daughters tongue, her breathing was heavy. She was approaching an orgasm, brought there by the tongue in her pussy. I imagined that sweet wet young cunt. I could almost taste it. The thought was enough, and I came, my first of the morning. The tongue was gone, and I was turned over, onto my stomach. I felt a hand between my legs, fingers. Knowing that doesn'tmake the baby food taste any better.I can't get over my hands. They aren't my hands. Sure they're a womans,but I get a feeling I'd feel confused anyway.The veins are all wrong.Knuckles not even wrinkly yet. As I eat I constantly wonder who the fuckis feeding me. My bowl in the washer, I run my hand through my hair.It's different hair too, too thin. I debate crying. It's been yearssince I cried, but it seems like the appropriate thing to do if I'mgoing to be a woman.Fuck it.. More

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