Justin thought that she looked just ascute in a shirt and khakis.After a moment, she nodded to herself."We need makeup." No way!" said Justin."Just a ...ittle bit." No!" he reiterated."Fine," she conceded with a shake of her head. "Your choice, Justine."Justin opened his mouth to respond then stopped. He looked back at hisreflection. What was the big deal? He did look like a Justine, afterall. 'She' looked like a Justine.He gripped the skirt and swished it back and forth, noting how odd. I went so far as to call my cock the 'Horn Key'. All I had to do was point my cock at a woman and she would beg me for sex. The trouble was, none of them had. In typical revisionist thinking, post orgasm, I decided that sort of fantasy was directly responsible for old men in raincoats. I dismissed the concept. It returned to me later that night.Mother was yelling at Rodney when I arrived home from school. She stopped when she heard me enter, but it had been loud enough to escape the house. With. More

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