.I felt powerless.It was like I was being fucked.I couldn't do anything about it.I had no will of my own and had become a spectator of my own life. I...was no longer about what I was doing, but what was being done to me.These are classic symptoms of depression or the blues.As I sat there waiting for the kettle to boil, Sarah came into thekitchen."John, you know that when you dress as a girl, you need to have a newname. We can't go round calling you John. I think it would beempowering for you,. And experience what I do! You’ll love it! I love you and I want you to be happy! This will make you happy, too, baby! Please, honey!” Leslie began moaning as I fucked her slippery twat, her wedding band still on her hand as I took her.“Put me on the phone, honey dove,” I instructed Leslie, who did so with apparent eagerness, as I began speaking to her husband while still fucking her sweet, luscious cunt.“Who is this? I’m Leslie’s husband, Jack McAllister!” a man’s voice on the other end. More

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