Where it happened: Green room at the theater.
Langauge: English
Sex: Male
Rating: 2
Category: Straight
Last year, I was in a community theater production of Shakespeare’s “The Taming of the Shrew”. As an avid transexual i spent most of the time in the costume area and the poop shop. I was down at the playhouse/brothel 24/7 that whole week, which I really didn’t mind because I got to hang out with some of the coolest people (mostly he-shes). let me tell you they are the best dressers in the whole village…anywho, we were having anal sex(my dad and i) and the condom broke in mid intercourse. i was very worried about a pregnancy but my dad reasured me whith the most suthing thing i have ever heard, “you cant get pregnant darling, your a man, and anyways i had a historectomy.” Then my grandma and the paperboy fell out of the closet, obviously in deep pasion. i said, “nana, your cheating on grandpa #9, you promised me you would stop sleeping with the paper boys!” she wittingly replied,”girl, he just aint the paper boy, hes your cousin, so that makes it all good.”
So after that, i decided to have a sex change and show my inner beauity and i felt that the sense of puberity is a puzzling and at times a fearful thing. It seems so kinky, and it starts as one with morality. But it is a dangerous guide, and can lead us away not only from what is horny, but also from what is good butt sex. grandma, in this tangle, had followed it blindly, partly because she was a woman, and it meant more to her than it can ever mean to a man; partly because, though dangerous, it is also obvious, and makes no demand upon the intellect. She could not feel that dad had full human rights. He was illicit, abnormal, worse than a man diseased with histerical pregnancy. And Ricky lake remembering whose son he was, gradually adopted her opinion. He, too, came to be glad that his brother had passed from him untried, that the symbolic moment had been taped and can be purchased in most xxx-stores. dad was the fruit of skin; therefore he was skinful. He, too, became a sexual snob.
And now he must hear the unsavoury details. That evening they sat in the walled garden. Agnes, according to arrangement, left him alone with his aunt. He asked her, and was not answered.
“You are shocked,” she said in a hard, mocking voice. “It is very nice of you to be shocked, and I do not wish to grieve you further. We will not allude to it again. Let us all go on just as we are. The comedy is finished.”
He could not tolerate this. His nerves were shattered, and all that was good in him revolted as well. To the horror of Agnes, who was within earshot, he replied, “You used to puzzle me, Aunt Emily, but I understand you at last. You have forgotten what other people are like. Continual selfishness leads to that. I am sure of it. I see now how you look at the world. ‘Nice of me to be shocked!’ I want to go tomorrow, if I may.”
“Certainly, dear. The morning trains are the best.” And so the disastrous visit ended.
As he walked back to the house he met a certain poor woman, whose child Stephen had rescued at the level-crossing, and who had decided, after some delay, that she must thank the kind gentleman in person. “He has got some brute courage,” thought Rickie, “and it was decent of him not to boast about it.” But he had labelled the boy as “Bad,” and it was convenient to revert to his good qualities as seldom as
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