His blue-black wrists were covered in fine hair. There was a little flurry in my guts, like a butterfly settling on a flower the first day of spring.I...caught his eye in the mirror. His mouth curved into a smile before he looked away. I could smell the heat coming off him, almost taste it. In the mirror I could see the little beads of perspiration forming above his upper lip. It got me hard.He reminded me of an athlete - one of those guys who could run the 100 metres in less time it takes you to. She was still talking to me in her usual tone of voice, except now calling me Sir and not being quite as sarcastic. “I might actually learn to stop being a cunt this way. I don’t think I’ll ever be a proper little lady, but if I lose the bet, I’ll do my best to try,” she said.I found it hard to believe that the cousin who has been kicking me in the back, pulling my underwear up to give me wedgies, and putting signs on my back calling me a loser since we were little was really willing to change. More

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