You moved onto all fours, looking directly into the mirror and began talking to yourself… ’I know you want to fuck me…you want to shove that ha...d cock into me don’t you…” It was as if you were talking to the mirror and it was then I noticed the bottle of massage oil at your feet. The sight of your body shiny and slippery, your left hand roughly kneading and tugging at your tits, was having an effect on my cock. I moved my hand quicker and my cock was now rockhard, the veins running down it’s. It was always there, but I denied it. I experimented in myyouth, but that was behind me, I liked to think. It never was. Itcouldn't be. It's a desire. It burns in me the way I know it burns inothers. It's something that can never be said. Society won't stand for aman being anything like a woman. Anyway, for the first time in my adult life, I deluded myself intobelieving that I should wear women's clothes in public for the purpose ofsaving my job. Saving my job was the reason I figured, but deep. More

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