My hands were filled with her breasts as she told me about her parents (both dead now) and her sister (aforementioned Spokane problem) and the boys she dated and slept with.Before, when she told me of the men she’d taken to her bed, I’d been filled with jealousy and anger. Now, because it was me and not them in her bed, I listened as she explained why she could never find the man she was looking for.Her waning days on this mortal coil had forced Celeste to examine who she’d become, and why. Back in Baltimore, she’d discovered that she was a selfish, controlling bitch, and that she’d pushed away the only man that had ever cared about her the way she’d wanted. The only man who had taken her shit again and again and come back for more. That realization had changed her somehow, softened her, made her more free and accessible. And that’s when she’d jumped on a plane to spend her last days with me.As the second of the three months drew to a close, Celeste started exhibiting changes. She. I think we might have ourselves a sissy boy... or are you just a submissive little slut waiting to find his Mistress?” “I don’t know what you mean,” I said as I peeled off my shorts and shirt. I wasn’t wearing underwear under the shorts. “Leave that here,” she ordered. “You can ditch the sandals as soon as we’re onto the sand.” “Yes, Ma’am,” I answered. A few moments later we were walking across the sand to where the rest of the women were now standing. When we got over to the group, one of them stepped forward. She was about my height– I’m five foot six... OK, five five... if I round up... a lot, but she was at least an inch or maybe two taller than me. Her hair was a dark brown and her eyes matched her hair. The hair just above her slit was almost black, or maybe it was dark brown and looked black because it was wet from her being in the water. I tried to not stare at her pussy, but I couldn’t meet her eyes and there was no place to look that I wasn’t staring at a naked female.
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