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“Let's look at it baby … won't you show Cindy your B-I-G T-O-O-L.” she said in a teasing tone. Her hand reached down and unzipped his pants, her fingers reached down through the fabric of his underwear and touched his penis. “Uh, oh what do we have here … Benjamin.” she asked giggling, “he is so small and cute, what is his name?” Benjamin knew that it was small, all the bullies in his high-school gym class had teased him relentlessly about his “pencil dick,” but it seemed a hundred times more emasculating coming from Cindy. As her fingers gently ran up and down the shaft, the old man's penis jerked in involuntary spasms. “I asked you what is his name Tubby?” she said again and followed it with a stinging slap on his face with her free hand. Thwack! “I … he does not, uh … have … uh … a … uh … name Ms. Cindy,” stammered the old man. “Yes, he does …. and I will slap you like a bitch until you tell me what it is.” Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! She repeated three slaps in rapid succession. “Big. Icould feel the warm, internal void of a woman's sex, the feel of a vaginabetween a pair of thighs previously foreign to me. I could feel thetight, fit belly of her, the soft sweater against her smooth flesh. Icould feel the tight grasp of a bra on a pair of large, perfect breastson her. I could feel the soft skin of her shoulders and arms in thatsweater as well. I could feel the air of the room on two hands, two handswith ten delicate, graceful fingers. I could feel the long ponytailswishing on her back. I could feel her face as it flushed withexcitement. I could feel and taste her mouth, rubbing her own tongue overher teeth. Finally, I could smell the room with her nose, and see itthrough her eyes. I was seated in the chair, looking at Jerry across fromme. I was Tara. Catching my breath, I lifted up her hands and looked at them. It alwaysfelt so odd to raise a pair of hands up that were not my own, and to seeand feel them as mine. Looking down I could see my breasts.
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