I cried for the loss of a friend. The picture placed on an easel was that of a middle-aged man, in a conservative suit. The service was for one Leonar... Andrew Samuel. It was a sad irony that it was not who they buried.To me, she was Laura. I met her sixteen months ago, over the internet. We frequented the same chat rooms, both standing on the threshold of gender transition. After a few months of correspondence, we met for lunch. It's funny how well you can get to know someone through her. That lecture was on my mind as I gathered the things in their en suite bathroom I would need to shave my mother’s pussy. I shook my head to clear it. I still had a nice buzz.When I walked back into the master bedroom mom lay on her back on the bed. Her legs were splayed open as she fingered her pussy again. She inserted first one then two fingers in her vagina and pumped them vigorously. Her eyes were partially closed, her body shone with a light sheen of perspiration. Her breath whistled. More

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