I am a man, I thought. I am a man,right?I sat down on the bed and looked across the room at a mirror. The imagestaring back at me did not look like ... man. The image, my image, lookedlike an attractive woman with long dark hair and tastefully done make upand manicured nails, and as much as I did not want to be, I was proud ofhow she looked. This woman, me, was sitting in a very demure andfeminine manner wearing an above the knee length ivory dress and blackcardigan sweater. She was wearing. His groan was feral, and I was actually frightened for a fraction of a second as my primitive brain responded to the much larger predator it suddenly realised was about to devour me. And I felt devoured; his mouth on mine was savage and demanding, his teeth nipping at my lips, his tongue dueling with mine. A shot of adrenaline coursed through me like fire, and a submissive moan was all I managed in response.His knee pressed between my legs, and mine separated to allow access. The sounds I could. More

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