In no time I was moaning like a whore in heat,laying on my back, with my fake cock sticking obscenely up from mycrotch, as her finders, hands and lips...traveled all over my legs,crotch, body, face, kissing me like I was a girl, and for her, now andforever, I really was. I truly felt like one. It felt so wonderful to bea center of her attention, as she stroked, probed, kissed, pushed,squeezed and explored every inch of me and my outfit, my body reactingto her touch in mind-floating,. Only vaguely, I guess. I was six. Girls my age didn’t look much different – maybe more hair, or just how they dressed. Adults were, well, adults. I remember Momma, sort of. People are voices and hands, mostly. Once in a while I had a foster mom who would cuddle me – but that didn’t mean I got to run my hands all over her. Most of them were big, I guess. Pretty much any woman I might remember would be black. Are white women different?”Lucille frowned, not that Kanye could see it. “I don’t know. More

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