I hadn't seen any women in panties, except inmagazines and films but I was pretty sure they don't have a penis and mypanties were tight around my penis. I looked in the bag to see if therewas anything to hid my penis. I couldn't see anything but then I noticedthat there was a hole on the inside of my panties that ran towards whatwas obviously the back of them and I was clearly meant to tuck my penisin there. I did so and was amazed at how my groin now looked as feminineas my butt.Next came my suspender belt. I had seen girls putting these on in films,so I knew to hook it around myself before turning it round so the hookfastening was above my butt rather than in front of me. It dawned on mythat the straps needed to go inside my panties if I was not going to haveto redo them every time I went to the toilet and I then rolled thestockings up my legs. From the waist down this was the closest I hadbeen to a sexy woman I thought as I stroked my stocking right leg andmade sure I had. The concept of yesterdays is gone. The mere idea of tomorrow is non-existent. It is hard enough to grasp the present, the integrity of her flesh. Hard enough to trust this centrifugal maelstrom of feelings and emotions. This constant arousal, this aching lust. Electric currents jab at her. They make her skin ripple, her spine arch.There always is the hunger, the need to taste the white slimy cream. To swallow it and paint her face with it. To feel it spurt over her tits and belly. The scent of it, the taste.There is the craving need to quench the fire in the central void of her being. There are the gaping throats of her flesh. She wants them filled, stretched to the limit. She wants them drowned in boiling liquids, seep with juices, leak with come. Come, the magic word... cummmmmmm.She is always almost there... her weak hand claws to reach. To reach he edge, eternal edge, oh god get me there... there. Her nails scratch, cruel irons bite her flesh. There are the throbbing nipples,.
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