I was unsure how my new body would react. I knew that larger breasted women had a hard time with running, but the biggest actual adjustment was the wa... I walked. My hips forced my gate out further, in a much different manner than I had ever experienced. I had been a woman for a bit now, but never walked at such a rapid pace. After a few minutes, the sweat was starting to run, but I wanted more. I was alive. I pushed the speed up so I had to go into a light jog, and although I could definitely. The first option was to stand next to a nice man, turn her back to him and bend from the waist to examine something on the bottom shelf. With her short skirt and lack of panties, she knew he would be totally on display. Further he told her to stay there for a bit and even push her ass back to his hand to see if he would finger her. If he did, she was to wiggle to let him know that she liked it. Then if he seemed interested she was to go with him to one of the movie booths.The second option, if. " I know Mark, come on, let's go play ball."That's what we did, played ball. I would try to throw, but at three itdidn't go far.My father and I would play together everyday, teaching me how to kick asoccer ball properly, throw a baseball with accuracy, pass a football ina perfect spiral and how to be a real boy. Obviously these lessons wenton for years so my game with Mom really didn't affect me one way or theother. It was just a game she played with her little boy with longlashes.We started. My hand clutched for the riding crop, and now with each stroke of my member, it gave a sharp slap on one cheek and then the other. Even in the flickering light, the welts that arose on her pale bottom showed pink and red, criss-crossed with each slash of the whip. Her body gripped me tighter with each stroke, and though I could not hear but a deep groan through her gag, the shakes and spasms of her body showed me her reaction to this dual attack. This increased as I slid the oily crop into her.
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