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Trust
Date: 7/17/2015, Categories: BDSM, Shemales, Author: klammer, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster
it *is* as bad as I think?" I asked in a low voice. "Then you'll at least have a *reason* for suicide. Don't you think it's a bit cowardly to die rather than face the truth about yourself?" she snapped. That was her top sergeant voice. I actually sat and thought about that one. And breathed a huge sigh. "Okay. You're right." I won't bore you with the rest of that demonstration. It went on for a couple of hours. She showed me pictures, read me things. Eventually, she went and got some stuff made of different fabrics, and rubbed them against my skin. Different things to smell, too. She did an uncomfortable bit with compliments, pointing out my physical responses to being called various pleasant masculine and feminine adjectives. It was all a little much to take in. The important part of it was that I *was* taking it in. She wasn't particularly surprised by any of my responses. And she didn't press me on them, either, or at least on most of them. Once more, betrayed by what I wrote. She had a really good idea of what my tastes were before she started. The end of the conversation was a little embarrassing, though. "Now, Lee, I want you to repeat after me. Sex. Cunnilingus. Lingerie. Breast. Cock. Vagina. Panties." "P-p-pa... P-panties," I f***ed out. "One 'p,'" she said gently, smiling. "Panties." "P-p... P-pa... Pa-panties! Damn it!" I was a complete, brilliant red, and I had a throbbing, obvious erection. She went on. ... More words. After that, some of them seemed downright silly. I even laughed, at one point, repeating "Peter Piper," and "She sell seashells." She picked up her books, and read some sentences. Then, "I like to wear soft, lacy undergarments." "I... I won't say that!" "I like to give blow-jobs to passing strangers. Say it." "What is this? I like to give blow-jobs to passing strangers," I repeated, flushing. She waited, looking pointedly at my lap. Nothing happened. "I like to wear soft, lacy undergarments. Say it." "I like t'wear soft, lacy underthings," I repeated, harshly. "Are you satisfied now?" She stared at my lap until I gave up. "All right. So I like it. So what?" She sighed. "Good question. You think about it. Does it hurt anybody? It doesn't even hurt you. Just remember that you *like* it, and quit claiming you're *compelled* to do it." I nodded, angrily. "Lee," she said, in a much softer voice, "I think you've been through the mill today. Why don't you go home? You have one visit to my house, by invitation, whenever you wish to call it that." I gave her a wounded look, and she kissed me. "Oh, Lee!" She sat back, and looked at me. "I think, if you think about this for a day or so, you might even be ready to trust me. To trust *somebody*, at any rate, and I'll hope it's me. Friday? Don't have dinner, though. And come here at 8:30." I was feeling rather ...