Batwoman meets Catwoman Part One
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Time Stands Still Chapter Two: Ablutions free porn video
Time Stands Still Two: Ablutions
By r.gold
6 a.m.
I can tell it's still way too early.
I count backwards from five and wrench myself out from
under the covers and onto the floor. I take a second to
catch my balance and clear my head. I love the rush of the
blood trying to get to my empty brain as I fight the
dizzies.
I narrowly miss stepping on my dog half tucked under the
bed. My half-dog's still sound asleep. Lucky Greta. I hear
her moan sympathetically and chuckle to myself.
I head for the bathroom. Stepping lightly on the cool tile
floor, I turn on the shower. This old house takes a while
to get hot water to the second floor and I brush my teeth
while I'm waiting.
Turning towards the mirror, I smile. I'm the fulfillment of
many years of frustration, misery, and finally
actualization.
I look at a full head of hair with a very attractive
hairline. I see nicely shaped eyebrows on a pretty feminine
forehead. My nose is delicate. My lips are full. My
cheekbones are high, complimenting my large green eyes.
My breasts bob gently under my tee shirt that hugs my thin
frame. If I move forward, I can see the gentle curve of my
belly meeting my tiny waist and generous hips. I'm far from
fat. I am self centered enough to know that my body is
terrific looking and know that I take pains to keep myself
attractive.
It's taken many years and a lot of money to fulfill my
desires to look good. Lots of pain and effort. I'm happy
with the doctors' results and I smile back at the woman I
am.
Pulling off my T-shirt, I head into the shower to stand and
enjoy the warmth. I stand there simply enjoying the
mindless flow of water cascading over me. My nipples
respond and grow larger. I enjoy the comfort of the water
warming me all over.
I reach for the soap and a washcloth. I'm a no nonsense
girl who isn't sold on the mall store bath washes and
special applicators.
After washing and scrubbing, I switch the shower to pulse
and pick up the hand-held head. I start to run it all over
the sensitive parts of my body. My nipples, my breasts, my
armpits, my groin, my butt all receive a bit of attention.
I turn the water up hotter, increasing the pulse; I start
again but this time for pleasure.
It's my biggest pleasure, this showerhead.
Eventually, the heat and the stimulation take effect and I
am gasping for release from the pressure and the pain. The
heat on my nipples make them oh, so sensitive and oh, so
painful. I moan with satisfaction and desire.
I turn the hand-held head towards my bottom. I bend over
slightly. I position the pulse up and into my rectum,
pushing the water deep inside until I feel like I could
burst. As I fill up, I feel the heat of pleasure coming on
through my passages. After five minutes to flushing water
inside myself, I release my sphincter and feel an enormous
rush through my body.
I shiver.
I scrub myself clean again.
I could stand in the pulsing water all day.
Sometime soon, I'm getting a hot tub for my back yard. Even
though I'm still pre-op, I tuck very cleanly and can wear a
two piece without any worry.
Worry, not a whole lot. I'm happy with my choices in life.
I have a career I love. I have enough money to stay afloat.
I have associates and friends.
Life for this transsexual is still a daily effort. I have
to carefully maintain my medications; I have to watch my
health. I have to work. I cook for a living. I have a
restaurant within walking distance of my house.
I went to school for two years to obtain a culinary
certificate. I've cooked in the back of the house since I
was fourteen. It's all I've ever wanted to do.
I inherited this place from my parents. They ran the tavern
for thirty years before they retired to the south. I've had
it ever since.
Drying off, I rub lotion over my body. Then, I get most of
the water out of my hair and wrap it in a dry towel. I
don't feel self-conscious walking naked through my house.
No lights are on. No peeping Toms.
Back in the bedroom, half dog is stirring. Greta is my
wonderful golden retriever who shares my life. She's four
years old and much smarter than she looks. She's done a
good job handling my investments, keeps the books for the
restaurant and even helped me set the timing on my truck's
engine. Right.
Greta crawls out from under the bed and immediately finds
something to scratch. After licking herself, she turns to
me. I hold out a foot and she licks my toes. Then I use
that same foot to scratch her ear and head.
It's my favorite day, a day off. I open my dresser and grab
some clothes.
I tuck myself back and into my self and pull on a lavender
satin thong. I love thongs because of the feeling of the
string going through my crack. I also hate panty lines
showing. I have a nice butt and enjoy showing it off. I
don't want my underwear getting first billing. I need to
choose between a pair of hip hugging jeans or a really
short pleated skirt. The pale blue skirt wins out cause
it's new and really sexy looking.
Genetically, I was given a nice figure and beautiful legs.
Growing up, I always hear, "Gee, a girl would get jealous
over your figure and that head of hair." Well, since I
always felt that this "girl" was predestined to be just
that.
It's warm enough to go sockless and I slide into a pair of
tan leather sandals. My legs are dark enough to look fine
without stockings. I shaved them yesterday and they still
pass muster.
I find a white cotton bra. I hold it up and wonder if I
should wear or not wear. Hmm. I pull out a little white
tee, cap sleeves, exposed navel. Throwing caution to the
wind, I decide to go for it.
Pulling it over my head, I check myself out in the mirror.
I see a pretty woman who is 5'8" and weights about 130
pounds. She has a great smile, thick wavy brown hair, a
trim body with long tan legs. Her breasts are proportional
to her waist and hips. I am always pleased to know that I
have been granted a lot of happiness.
While making the bed and opening the shades, I make a list
of what I want to do before I head out. Lots of stuff to do
on a free day.
I return to the bathroom to finish drying my hair. It's
naturally wavy and I pull it back high on my head in a
ponytail. I put on a simple tank watch, two pairs of
earrings and a thumb ring. My nails are kept trimmed and
fairly short. I do apply a clear lacquer finish that gives
them an attractive glow. I use a sun block moisturizer on
my face as my foundation. A little mascara, blush, lipstick
and I'm out. I'm a no nonsense girl that doesn't get much
"foo-foo" time. I can't afford to be high maintenance.
Downstairs the timer on the coffee has done its job. The
machine presents me with several cups of the strong stuff.
I wander out into the garden with Greta. While she does her
thing, I'm checking to see what's flowering.
I find a spot on the bench and toss food to my goldfish. I
could sit here forever petting Greta and gazing at the
pond.
I remember my dad putting this pond in. I got to pick out
the fish. That was long ago.
A knock at my side door brings me back to reality. I see a
police uniform. I stand and wave a hand, showing I'm back
here. We meet at the gate and I open it. I give the cop a
kiss, maybe a little stronger than I thought I would, but
hey, I'm ready!
My man in blue, Jack Warner, looks at me sadly. "Bad news,
Renee. Traci's been shot."
Marisol
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Batwoman meets Catwoman Part One
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Batwoman meets Catwoman Part Two
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