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The Transgender Erotic Classic

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This deliberation was quite shaken upon the day when I was witness to much more then a quick buss in the hallway. I had been out roaming by myself and returned home at a time far past my expected arrival. In order to avoid any unpleasantness, I was forced to creep through a back entrance and make my way to my own chamber in silence. It was this silence which allowed me to hear, coming from my mother's own bedchamber, a most curious sound; akin to the sound a boy makes when slapping his thighs in glee. My mind could not comprehend what such a sound could portend and, in a bout of clever slyness, I determined to discover the source without betraying my own presence. With stealth that would do a Newgate parolee some honor, I approached the door to my mother's room, my footfalls landing in time with the steady slapping noises. I was nearing the corner of the frame when, to my horror, I heard the voice of Mr. Joe Baker!

"That's a good lass, that's my fine filly! Shake your rear to me, my fine lady, and receive your stallion's cock!"

gasped aloud, and unwanted tears sprang to my eyes. Could that man address my own mother in such a way? I neglected to hush myself, but a greater sound rose from the chamber and engulfed my pitiful sniffles. It was a woman—nay, it was my own dear mother, if the truth be told—crying out like some wanton, as the sounds of their illicit lovegames filled the hallway. Yet surely she was pained; if not by the act, then by the words which spewed forth from this cruel man's mouth!

My eyes blurred, I thrust my fingers into my mouth to crush the sounds which threatened to ensue, and crept onward to my room without spying upon them. I knew I could not bear to see my mother in such dalliance with such a man. And thus, through the night, I heard their movements and the creaks and sighs and thumps which made up their congress. It was a most horrifying experience, as I am certain it must be for all young men, to discover that their mothers, sweet angels all, conducted themselves with men in the same manner in which we so dream of conquering some fair maiden. How much more terrible this knowledge is when the gentleman in question is not your father!

Despite my most heavy burden of virginity (for I was far too shy a youth to embark upon those crusades which the rough youths made into the houses of ill repute, and there were no ladies of my standing upon which to direct romantic attentions), I was not unaware of the mechanics of love. A sturdy lad named Ned Jones had once assigned me the task of watching for potential interlopers while he enjoyed a dalliance with his sweetheart in an empty shed. This shed provided a number of loosened slats from which an enterprising lad could spy upon the interior; this was my intention and deed. And through this vertical window, perhaps the breadth of my thumb, I was able to witness the act of joining.

Ned was a large young man, tall and strong, and I discovered that he was indeed large in all his parts! For that root between his white thighs was a veritable truncheon, and its size and majesty were of great interest to Sally, his chosen "lady." But when she allowed his rough fingers to unlace her bodice and lift her heavy skirts, there indeed was discovery! For not since my infancy, when all men know nothing but the pleasures of their mother's breast, had I seen such an expanse of soft whiteness! Her bubs were large and rounded, heavy in Ned's hands. When he seized them and made grasping motions, Sally did not turn from him or cry in pain, but sighed and molded her soft flesh to his body. I watched, both enraptured and revolted.

Their coupling was swift and tumultuous, leading to much squirming about and the shifting of positions, from the wall to the dirt floor and then back up against the wall again. Ned thrust into Sally's body with such ease that I was astounded. Surely, my boyish mind considered, it is never so simple! Yet, for this pair, rutting together as two stoats in an abandoned shed might, there were no considerations of delicacy. For they were simple creatures, knowing only the needs of the moment and the hunger of their bodies. So they clung to each other and mewed and snarled like cats until Ned made a harsh, triumphant cry, and relinquished his hold on the girl...

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