"Would you be willingto be my husband from now on? I promise to be a good wife." Are you sure you know what you're asking?" Greg asked. "No morepreten...ing, you'd take hormones, and..." And I'd become a woman," I said with no doubt in my mind. "If it's okaywith you, I'd like to switch and be your wife; I don't want to be a mananymore. You can make all the decisions and handle our finances; I'll bethe kind of wife men dream about. I'll cook and clean, and take care ofyour every need."He could. He kisses me again, and I wriggle against him.Then his lips leave mine, and he stares at my face, stroking my cheek again.I see the effect I'm having on him. My eyelashes are long, almost feminine, and my lips are full and pouting. He runs his finger back and forth across my mouth, and I see the desire in his eyes.'Sometimes I wear lipstick, ' I whisper. 'And on my nipples, too - my mother likes to see me like that... 'He groans and shivers, and I know that that excites him. He kisses me once. A hand was stroking her right cheek, not the one on her face. It wasn't long before another one had been placed on her left side, just where the top of her denim skirt met the white camisole top, and within a minute, presumably the other tent hero, had the left hand inside her top, and was oh so gently stroking her tummy. It felt nice. She hoped it was the lad with the muscles and neat hair from the tent, he was kind of cute. Soon the hand was cupping her left breast, and just brushing a finger. She ground her hips into him, gasping from the sensations, even through all the layers of clothes. She led his hands to her back, where he unzipped her dress. Rolling off him, she slid it down, past her hips. He stared at her, in a red satin teddy. She climbed over him, pausing to kiss him, and stood back up. She dimmed the lights, then got a bottle out of her bag."What's that?" he asked, smiling."Body lotion," she told him. "Edible body lotion... "He grinned at her, and she climbed back onto.
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