She put out her arms and wrapped them around him so that her hands grabbed his buttocks and began to gently knead them. He stared down at her, unable...to comprehend that this was really happening! She put her face forward towards his length, putting her cheek up against one side of his shaft, unable to keep her eyes open as the water sprayed down (he fleetingly wondered if his aunt’s water was metered, and then decided he didn’t care). She softly rubbed her cheek against him, still kneading his. "Carol, are you alright?" the old man asked."Thank you," she cried. "I have wanted this for so long. I hated who I was. I always wanted to be a woman, but I fought it in every way I could. While the other bikers wore their hair long, I shaved my head. Instead of smooth skin, I covered myself in tattoos. I fought every feminine thought by becoming the roughest, crudest person I could imagine. I took my unhappiness out on others." When I realized who you were," she continued, "I knew this. More

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