It was a sad irony that it was not who they buried.To me, she was Laura. I met her sixteen months ago, over the internet. We frequented the same chat ...ooms, both standing on the threshold of gender transition. After a few months of correspondence, we met for lunch. It's funny how well you can get to know someone through her written word. By the time I met her face-to-face, I knew she was not the man her body reflected.We were both married, and both struggling with the pain we would cause in. I diligently applied myself to ensuring that the final result of her trim was acceptable to her; I knew that she liked to have a covering of short hairs either side of her pussy lips and definitely not to have any growing inside of her thighs. I finished the task pleased not to have caused any nicks or scratches and I sat back on my heels and surveyed the delightful sight of her pussy with an almost heart shaped pattern of fuzz surrounding the full lips. I didn’t like to mention that she looked. More

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