She kept it up and I kept shooting spurt after spurt into her.She wilted as she smiled weakly at me in the dim light. I reached up and pulled her down...for a kiss. I love her cinnamon taste, I love her body, her beautiful complexion, her laughter, and her hot pussy. I love her even more, because there are five more just like her, waiting for my cock to fill their bellies with Murphy babies.I rolled over with her, to keep from losing any of the seed we had just planted in her fertile young. .. After thinking in this way for toolong, the motivation to actually put some of these thoughts intowriting finally arrived. None of the stories are intended to turn intoan extended serial, so if anyone feels that any of the tales have endedon a loose end, feel free to to carry them on.The most polite way to start seemed to be to introduce myself, and itdoes fit the scheme because my route into the world of crossdressingwas one of the literature's most hoary (not whorey!) old tropes. Whatis. More

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