His right hand shoved my left breast, knocking me back. At the same time, he rolled over-top of me, this time moving to his knees, ending up straddlin... my hips.He grabbed my wrists. I fought back, trying to shove him off of me. This time, I didn't just push him away. I squirmed, turned, tried to kick, flailed my hands, all in an attempt to free myself - I let loose.I really didn't want to be fucked - or maybe I just didn't want a wimpy fuck. If I was going to get laid, I wanted it the right. I became a hot male eager to be pleased by a devoted, helpful, and submissive whore.It was in one of those encounters, while I possessed him and in my imagination, transformed him into a whore, that I wanted to see him become a woman. I wanted him to feel like the whore I had felt with him and many others before him. Dress him up, make him up, make him wear provocative lingerie, and watch him behave like that whore that I had in my imagination and that fed that morbid and strange desire, but. More

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