It was much as expected: a double bed and end table, television, a padded chair and reading table, a simple but clean bathroom. The principal pulled...the cover and blankets off the bed and piled them to the side. "No need for these; all you'll need is clean sheets. And maybe a pillow for under your ass if that's what the guy wants."Anna looked around the room, trying not to look at the bed. She knew what was going to happen, where she'd soon be: on her back on that bed, with a complete. She thought she could live it for her own pleasure. She was independent. Another word she once knew. Or did she?I knew that girl. Or did I? Not really. She was a selfish, silly girl. I remember her like I remember my old friends from high school. Like I know my colleagues from the restaurant. Like I remember my mom, my sis, my real sister, I mean. But I know I am not she. Not now. Not ever do I want to be her, anymore.I am Giselle. I am Angique's girl. That thought makes my blood surge. My body. “Uhmmmm,” Danny replied. “Tastes good to me.” Colleen spread her legs, as Danny re-positioned herself between them, her face mere inches away from Colleen’s pussy, which was teaming with the remnants of my cum. I watched as my wife proceeded to lick Colleen’s pussy clean of my cum. At the same time, Betty positioned herself between Danny’s spread legs, lapping at her pussy. I lay looking up at the ceiling, my cock still throbbing but quickly loosing its firmness. I closed my eyes. Everything. For the next two months, my breasts were verytender, almost blob-like. As had been the case at the start of mytransition, my nipples often hurt even when just brushed against. OnlyMustafa's kisses could soothe such discomfort. At the end of the fourthmonth into my transition, he had spent words of admiration for my veryproportioned breasts, tasting and looking absolute female in every detail.He had called them "perfect" and desired that they would always remainlike that. But Mustapha knew all.
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