Bitch. Was. A Squirter. How come I didn’t know until now? I unloaded and made a lot of noise while I did, and it encouraged her to open her mouth wider and exercise her tenor a little louder. Were we having a shouting contest? I moved my hand down to her pussy, slid it across my moving shaft, and slipped two fingers in to her drenched flaps. Her vagina hemorrhaged more fluid, some of which got on my leg as I mistakenly pulled out and sprayed the rest of my load over the sheets. If her pussy was a hunter and my hand a deer, then it was open season on my hand for the next thirty or so seconds, and I let it be. My knee screeched to a halt against her leg. I guess I’m not sure if I had cum on her leg and was getting my own cum on my knee, or if she had dribbled on her own leg, transferring it to my knee. Whatever, it was wet and it felt wonderful as I knelt there and waited for my cock to pump out the rest. I fell on top of her and felt her heart rate slowing down with mine. I felt her. Slowly I lifted thehem of my camisole to see that my pink panties didn'tcontain my small penis.I took them off to see that I had now a mound of skin,divided by a slit, making me the perfect girl.The door swung open and my Dad came into the room witha black and white maid uniform, and his hair done intoa high bun on his head. He wouldn't let mecall him Dad, he just told me to call him Maria andnothing else, and that he was on the service of mymother that he called mistress.I survived the days, with the continuous lessons ongirlhood, on how to sit, run and dance, with theboring ballet lessons, that were really tedious withtheir fragile movements, their pink tights and theblack leotards.I knew that we weren't in Oakland anymore but in SanJose, and here no one knew that I had been a boy, orthat my Dad had been a man, that was just a freshstart for all. It gave me the chance to have some girlfriends, with whom I jumped rope and played hopscotch.Then the time for school came and I attended.
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