"Where was he set up?" I asked."Right here," she indicated by stepping a few steps over, "He had his easel right here. I watched in amazement as he re...constructed God's miraculous creation in watercolors," She leaned her head on my shoulder and started to cry as I put my arm around her.I continued to hold her for several minutes until Tracy was feeling better, then stood right where her father stood so many years before and recreated his painting, digitally.There was something magical about that. She and I had attended neighboring single sex high schools and had then gone to the same university out of state. Very pleasant and her class valedictorian, Margaret had lovely clear skin, silky straight brown hair, and very precise hands. I remember those hands. But, as for dating, she had always struck me as too careful, too prim, too perfect. She had seemed to imply she was available for dating, but she’d seemed too pure to try to kiss. If this were fictional porn, maybe I could make. My brain was in a whirl. What should I do? When was her last period? Was it last week or the week before? Damn, I think she is close to her danger time. Is he wearing a condom? I don't think he has had the opportunity to put one on. Should I stop it? If I don't will he pull out? Surely she would not risk it this close to ovulating.I then remembered that when we sex that afternoon I had gone down on her and her pussy had excreted almost jelly like fluids and I suddenly knew that if I didn't stop. I figured I might as well get used to being out like this as I could feel myself becoming more and more feminine. I had even started practicing my female voice. The more I practiced the better I sounded and soon I wouldn’t even have to think about it; I would be used to talking like a girl. After lunch we went home and played video games until it was time to go to the party. We stopped along the way for burgers and got to the party just as it was getting dark. The band was setting up and there.