Beautiful!" I stammered, my eyes riveted. "Why don't you kiss them?" she said softly, shrugging the cotton blouse off her shoulders. I leaned in, shyl..., and kissed the upper slope of her left breast. I felt her hand on my head, pressing downward as she added, "The nipple, silly, kiss the nipple." As my lips came in contact with the dusty rose colored flesh, she hissed, "Yesssss! That's it! Suck on it!"I began feasting on the ample flesh, gently chewing, swirling my tongue all around the stiff. Part of me was the manI portray to the world, a generous, funny and kind fellow (at leastthat's what I have been told). The other part of me, the woman namedSimone is also those things, and very feminine in her thoughts andattitude. As I got older, the solid wall that contained Simone began toerode, and when I discovered the internet, that wall crumbled as Idiscovered a whole community of men that fought this same battle withtheir feminine alter egos from one degree to another. In early 2003,. More

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