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Trust
Date: 7/17/2015, Categories: BDSM, Shemales, Author: klammer, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster
fingers." Another story reference. An embarrassing one. In that one, the boy (he wasn't really a man, I think) was asked at one point what he would do if he was told he could turn himself into a girl just by snapping his fingers, with no possibility of turning back. 'Decide now. You have thirty seconds.' At twenty-five seconds, he was staring at his fingers. Her fingers. Magic, remember? I'd actually heard about that as a sort of test, and tried it on myself, and shocked myself in just the way suggested by snapping my fingers, at about twenty-five seconds. But I'd convinced myself that it was only because it wasn't for real, and because I wanted to shock myself, and... oh, all sorts of excuses. "Four months ago, maybe, I would have been trying to push you far enough to make you want to quit... maybe that's what I did, anyway." She paused. I pretended I was absorbed with my food. "Are you really wearing pink panties?" she asked, quite casually. When I finished coughing, I nodded. She patted the bench beside her. "Come here. Show me." I looked around, shocked. She waited. I thought about it. Like I say, it was a dim restaurant. Finally, I gulped, slid out -- feeling as if every inch of my ass had been specially sensitized -- and slid in beside her, on the other side. She looked at my lap, and raised an eyebrow. I looked around, furtively, and tried to look like I was doing something other than unzipping my jeans. I put my hands, shaking, on the ... table when I was done. I couldn't help but gasp when her hand slid over the nylon. Boing! Instant erection. She stroked it, and I gasped, again, shuddering, before I brought myself under control. "Well," she said, with satisfied amusement in her voice, "I think you'd have a little trouble denying that you like wearing panties at the moment." Stroke. I shook my head, darting little glances to the side. "No, what?" "Umm, no, I don't," I said, confused. "I mean, don't deny it." "Deny what?" I looked at her. Question and answer, the Truth Will Out -- common elements of my stories. I tried twice to say what she wanted me to say, and finally leaned closer to whisper it. "I like wearing panties." Stroke. I shuddered again. Gods, don't let her bring me off in public. Please. Please. Instead she took my hand, and guided it under her skirt. Up. Up. Her skin was like satin. "And this is proof that I like seeing you in them... sissy," she whispered back. Her panties were warm and damp. She was aroused by *something*. She left my hand there, stroking her, for several moments, then sighed, and urged it back out, closing her legs. "I don't want spots on my skirt, sweetie," she explained. She reached across the table, and pulled my plate across. She ate the rest of her dinner one-handed; the other hand stayed where it was. I don't know what I ate. Boiled sand, maybe. I didn't taste it. She only sent me back to the other side ...