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By their movements I could tell that a orgasm was not long in coming. The pace was speeding up, the movements frantic, muscles rippling with pleasure and fatigue. Chris left the bosom and forced her face into the hollow of the woman's throat, then she screamed loudly and passionately. A second later, the waitress let out a howl of animal pleasure as she began to cum. Her heels left the bed and wrapped herself around my cousin, encasing her. Both froze in that position for almost ten seconds, only the sounds of their pleasure could be heard. Then I saw Chris relax her whole body and collapse over her new friend and lover, while her muscles involuntarily shivered. The other woman wasn't far behind.I turned from that delightful sight, realizing the smell of the women's musk had filled the room. I left the glass and grabbed my coat, I then left silently closing the door behind me. Chris would take her usual half hour to recuperate fully from a orgasm, and I wanted to leave her alone with. Even that wasn't the huge issue, because I had to have a couple of bulletproof vests and some radio equipment. Those were the major items.Best I could tell, the vests were going to run about 3 bucks each. I needed two of them. Then there were the walkies. The actual size of the radio was immaterial. I needed to be sure there were blue tooth looking headsets available for them. Enough people had seen the telephones so that they might not to be intimidated by them. It would still allow instant communications between the two of us. Those were going to run at least a buck each, it appeared.Then there were the beanbag firing shotguns for the really bad guys, loaded with beanbag rounds for the take down. I at least would carry a pocket full of buckshot, in case the situation became really intense. Those would run about two more each. It looked as though I was going to need to come up with a grand apiece for us. I had the money and I had already decided to do it, so it was just a matter of.
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“What is… all this?” She started the words for me, her fingers gingerly touching the gel in my hair, falling to trace down the tie on my chest. Her eyes passed over the suit I wore, lingering on places that were no longer familiar. “My name is Annelle,” I said. “But inside I have always been an Andrew.” “Oh,” she said, an exhalation, a realization. “I…” What could I say? Here was the woman I had loved, still loved, and I was telling her that I wasn’t the woman she had been loving all along. “All those nights you said you were busy or tired?” she asked. “I was out, dressed like this, trying to convince the world – and myself – that I could be this,” I replied. “And those clothes I saw in your closet?” “Mine… I lied when I said they were my dads, that I was keeping them as mementos after he had died.” Her eyes were wide, so wide, but she was still here! Still with me. “I have a confession,” she said, and there was a trace of uncertainty in her voice. Her hands tightened.

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