I think she just comes over for sex.I mean, she barely talks to me anymore. We eat, fuck, then she’s on her ipad. She doesn’t want me to meet her ...parents or her friends. It’s like I’m her dirty secret you know. She doesn’t want anyone to know her boyfriend is an old working class white guy.So we had it out; she admitted I’m right. She’s been seeing her old girlfriend. She said they haven’t been ‘doing anything’, but they still have feelings for each other.So I asked her what are her feelings. I was shakingwith fear. She grabbed my arm and propelled me through the door fromwhich she had entered the room. I could feel the strength in the grip shehad on my arm and a feeling of hopelessness descended on me. She draggedme down a long corridor and turned into a room. It contained a singlestraight back chair, a table about five feet long and a wall of lockers.There was another doorway on the opposite wall."Strip!" she ordered.I don't know where my courage came from, but I realized that. I only hope that my interest in perversely exciting characters and situations has not gone too far for her to be happy with it. My primary wish is that our many fans will derive great pleasure over many readings. It is why I write trannie erotica in the first place: as a gift to you. I hope I speak for both of us when I say that we write our stories for your pleasure and we hope they bring you many moments of release and contentment. Feel free to share our story with any other story site but. Patrick hadn’t cleaned her up completely, she mused, recalling her image in the mirror that last evening. Rachael herself could choose exactly when to let her real licentiousness have free rein, no-one else. Best, almost all of those around her would be completely unsuspecting. The concept of still being seen as the ‘Ice Queen’ – despite the mild thaw of the last year – while knowing what sleaze she could enjoy amused her hugely. Anyhow, she could have gone further, had she wanted to. She’d.