Sunday evening, September...Dear Diary, What a weekend! I'll just start from Friday night. After I served mywife her dinner and rubbed her shoulders, I suggested manicures and pedicures.As you know, diary, that's one of the fun things we do together. She agreed andwe fixed our feet and painted our toes, then fingernails. As our nails were drying, I casually said, "On to makeup!" Shelooked over at me and asked, "Do you want me to show you how?" How about I show you?" I said, trying to sound cool and excited at the sametime. She looked at me quizzically, and it just all came out. "Yes, dear, I knowlots and lots about makeup and bras and nylons and polish because I've been acrossdresser all my life." Oh, really, and just why am I now learning this?" an angry look flashed on herface."Because I thought you'd get mad, and I though I would be able to go throughlife not telling you, but, you see, I can't control it, and I have to tell you."I blurted it out, hoping to quell her temper."Well,. This had also given me my first real sexual experiences, besides for some drunken spin-the-bottle and casual rubbing in my stupid freshman year. ‘That’s so sweet.’ she said, and giggled. She leaned over against me, and put her hand on my chest. She slowly inched it upwards, until it was against my nipple. She nuzzled her face against mine. Without too much delay, I responded in kind, and soon I had two fingers lightly encircling her nipple. She giggled again, and knocked it away. ‘Not now…there are people watching!’ I looked around the bus. It wasn’t full of people, and what people there were seemed to be deep into reading their newspapers. I moved my hand down, though, so it was touching Carrie’s ribs right below her breast. I lightly bit her earlobe and whispered in her ear. ‘But it’s alright to touch MY nipple? When I get back to college, I am going to right a long paper on what a form of oppression this is.’ ‘And you mind so terribly?’ she pinched my nipple, which was already.
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