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A warm spring south Florida sun poured through the darkened windows of Marla Holton’s corner office, brightening the firm surface of the sky blue carpet and even revealing “fribbles,” her description of the tiny bits of whatever that a good vacuuming by the cleaning crew would clear away tonight. Marla Holton had a PowerPoint slide presentation that she needed to prepare for a seminar on Monday, a task that she despised regardless of how enjoyable the group would be to whom she would speak. She had no interest whatever in committing “death by PowerPoint,” a phrase her beloved husband Carl used often.

Carl had been dead now for slightly more than five years; the circumstances of his death would never depart her memory. He was a diplomat with “other” responsibilities in his assignment to Brazil. They had been married for twelve years, some of the happiest of her life. Although he could not describe his parallel duties, Marla had a pretty good idea that he was involved in intelligence work for at least two alphabet agencies.

She was aware that he kept a close watch on several radical environmental groups active in nagging the Brazilian government and at times committing lethal actions to pry international corporations out of the Amazon Basin. That got him killed.

They had met for lunch at a restaurant not frequented by either diplomats or other U. S. government employees, one of a host of defense practices that Carl and she followed. Their young son Matthew was not with them. This time, however, Carl’s security had not been enough; someone had talked. Fifteen minutes into their dinner a shooter on a rooftop a long city block away fired three rounds from a 7.62mm Dragunov SVD. The jacketed rounds were evenly spaced in a forty-five degree spread from the shooter’s position and one struck her husband in the back near his spine. He died instantly.

From her personal training with him and their security team Marla reacted quickly enough to throw herself to the floor and off to one side as the rounds bored into the wall above their table. Her own response saved her life. Two rounds from a rocket-propelled grenade blew through the plate glass window of the restaurant, raining shrapnel downward from a strike point near the ceiling. Marla had curled into a fetal ball beneath a nearby table; when the steel shards and glass slivers ripped toward the floor she was protected by the thick top. Otherwise, she would have died along with twenty other patrons.

The months afterward were a blur that Marla had never had a desire to revisit and clarify. The one bright spot was ten-year-old Matthew. He was a beautiful boy with blue eyes, dark eyelashes and brows and a mane of wavy golden hair that reached to his shoulders. Since Marla and Carl had home schooled him, hair length was not an issue insofar as school rules were concerned.

When he was six Matthew one day had remarked to her, “Mommy, your hair is so pretty. Can I grow mine long like you?”

Marla’s hair had always been white and at the time fell to the middle of her back in a frothy cascade. She understood that often the desires of children are simply spur-of-the-moment ideas while others reflect heartfelt longings. She and Carl had always tried to follow the general principle that “if there is no good reason to say ‘No,’ and no good reason not to say ‘Yes,’ then decide for the latter. Her son was impressed with her long white hair and since there was no reason to say no, she agreed. Besides, Marla reasoned to herself, hair always falls before a sharp pair of scissors.

“Baby, are you sure you want to have long hair? It can be a problem sometimes, you know.”

“Yes, I want it to grow. You and Daddy have always told me that it was beautiful…so I would like to have long, beautiful hair!”

She and Carl enjoyed a good laugh at his very dignified and serious explanation. Since that time Matthew had never had a haircut of any sort. Over the years as he matured his hair lengthened and thickened in remarkably lovely waves. He was athletic with a slim physique and was growing taller almost visibly by the day, at least to his mother. His mane of hair, however, grew as if there were no tomorrow and was lengthening noticeably out of proportion to his physical development. Matthew, or course, loved it. Marla noticed that with each passing year his features resembled more closely those of a girl.

When he was twelve Matthew really caught his mother off guard with his next request. She recalled the day when they were on the beach. She had never hesitated to enjoy brief swimwear, something that was taken for granted in Brazil, anyhow. She was reclining in a low beach lounge, topless in a tiny blue thong monokini, with her son lying beside her.

“Marla,” he addressed her by her first name indicating that what he was about to say was of great importance to him.

“Yes, Honey,” she replied, turning toward him with a smile.

“I want to be a girl…like you.”

There was a leaden silence as she had processed her son’s remark, again aware istanbul escort that discussion would follow. Right now her reaction would determine its direction.

“Darling, why?”

She recalled the lengthy conversation and many others that followed. In the end, when her son was sixteen Marla decided to allow her son to begin transgender changes. She hadn’t really considered whether this was common practice in Brazil or anywhere else for that matter, although she had seen a number of incredibly beautiful shemales in clubs that she and Carl had attended. Several times she had argued with him that they were truly women only to discover later that he was right.

After carefully researching the subject and locating physicians that had an extraordinary reputation for skill and results, she arranged for Matthew’s hormone treatments to start late in his sixteenth year. These were gradual yet he did experience the ups and downs associated with such a physical change.

As his teen years passed her son became more beautiful. He had never been hairy in his early teens and his skin resembled that of most blonde girls although he was definitely growing a thick blonde pubic fluff. His nipples had become pointed and enlarged and the precursors of breasts were forming. Surgery for breast development followed in several stages, and at this point Marla became insistent about something. The surgeons had explained to both of them that breast size and placement had a lot to do with the tissue already present, how much expansion Matthew could reasonably expect given the elasticity of his flesh. Marla chose to have the enlargements done in three steps, insertion of smaller pouches first to enhance the swelling of breasts and nipples already brought about by the hormones, followed by removal of those small inserts and replacement with larger ones succeeded by the final pair of implants.

These implants would produce full breasts along with the already-pointed nipples, breasts that were firm yet bouncy.

“Marla, what are you designing here? I feel more like a car than me,” Matthew stated one day with a note of aggravation.

“Please forgive me for seeming to be pushy and bossy. Darling, I don’t mean to be. This is one of those times when I’m actually going to whip on you a statement for which we parents are famous. ‘One day soon you’ll thank me.'”

The lovely young creature stared at her with a mixture of, “Yeah, I’ll bet!” and, “All right…since you’re paying for this….”

At seventeen he asked that his name be changed; when she asked what he wanted, Matthew said, “Virginia. I want to be named Virginia. It is such a rich and beautiful name.” They went through the procedures to accomplish it legally, then it was done.

Marla and her ‘new daughter’ as they both laughingly called her had an up-and-down time of getting used to the name change. Once during registration for a soccer program, when asked her name by the registrar of events, she whipped back without missing a beat, “Matthew. Matthew Holton.” This was followed by her characteristic broad smile.

Only after the woman at the table arched her brows and said in a rather bored fashion, “Oh, now please be serious…’Matthew’ is a boy’s name, and you’re a young lady,” did Virginia do a double-take and realize that she still was subconsciously bridging two worlds.

“I am a nut,” she chuckled. “My name is Virginia.”

The experience was instructive in that it showed both Marla and Virginia just how successful was her change. And it bore out Marla’s caution that from now on, she needed to be more circumspect in what she said.

“Baby,” Marla said not long after, “one of the most difficult facts we all have to learn is that words, like our actions, have consequences. We both know that that was just a slip-up, but I don’t want you to lay yourself open to being hurt some time. The fact is, you are simply a beautiful lady. Your voice is soft and a little husky, you have a lovely neck and a gorgeous chest, I have friends who would kill to have your hair, and then you’re developing…ah…you’re…ummm…well you’ve got great legs!”

“Why don’t you go ahead and describe the rest of me, the ‘ah’ and the ‘ummm’?” Virginia giggled. “You left out some things. Mothers and fathers who really care don’t leave out important things like THAT!”

Marla stared back at the laughing eyes and broad, lascivious grin on the face of her daughter.

“Virginia, tell me something. How old are you now?”

“Technically, seventeen.”

“Wanta be eighteen?”

Virginia shook with silent laughter although she strove mightily to keep a straight face and pass the situation off as of no consequence.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Her child stepped back, an expression of mock horror on her face.

“In the words of a famous man, Darling, ‘Go ahead…make my day.'”

“All right…all right,” Virginia replied hastily, “then please tell me this. Just how do you know that I am developing ‘ahhh…and umm’?”

Why Escort Anadolu Yakası do I do this to myself, Marla asked silently, partly in frustration and partly because she was enjoying this nonsense with Virginia.

“O lovely and, in spite of yourself, loveable blonde child of mine, one of the most dreadful characteristics of a teenager is your ability to seize on some subject others want to let go like hot wax, and you then ride it to death. That is what you are doing this very minute.”

She glared at her daughter.

“I know it. And you are so much fun to do it to because I can always back you into a corner.”

“You are truly the wicked witch of Somewhere!” managed Marla before she completely broke down and hooted.

“And do you know,” responded Virginia as she embraced her mother, “that’s just one of lots of reasons why I love you.”

She stepped back, held Marla’s face gently in her hands, and kissed her lips.

“You people sure know how to con your way out of a trap,” said her mother with a broad smile.

“And that is one of many reasons why you love me!”

“Virginia,” Marla once more dissolved into laughter, “please go away and destroy something. Drive someone else crazy.”

“Gotcha!” said the blonde as she hustled from the room.

Marla and Virginia celebrated her eighteenth birthday with a small dinner together with friends. They had not told any of them that since Virginia was planning to attend the University of Texas they would be departing Brazil in two months and returning to the United States. Marla had a new venture in her own right, an opportunity to start a new clothing design organization. Virginia would move to Palm Beach with her for a time, then would travel to Austin and enter the university as a resident.

After considerable research Marla had settled on the Palm Beach, Florida, area for several reasons. It was a low-level metropolitan area in her mind, that is, it had all the support elements necessary for success without a monstrous downtown area of tall buildings. She just didn’t like the cramped feeling. Furthermore, the weather was balmy…”Palm Beach: Where the tropics begin,” went the slogan. For the sorts of clothing she had in mind, stylish, sensual and reasonably priced, she needed a temperate area where people would wear her creations. And because of her own erotic interests, she intended to be her own best customer.

Virginia had already expressed an interest in the new challenge, though she planned to continue on to the University of Texas. By now she was a stunning woman and was quite happy as a shemale. She thought back on her mother’s remarks that one day she would thank her for decisions made earlier; sure enough, she did.

She was as tall as her mother now but where Marla had that great fall of long, naturally white hair, Virginia’s was unusually thick with a natural wave that usually obscured her right eye. She and her mother thought the wave looked sexy and old-fashioned in an extremely sensuous way. Virginia, at least when she wore her hair unpinned, did nothing to hold back that wave. Her face resembled her mothers to a degree but with blue eyes that sparkled with laughter. Her breasts were now full, deliciously heavy and close to each other with enviable cleavage and plump, pointed nipples. For the past three years she had exercised regularly, and her flat abdomen and shapely, strong arms and back testified to the effectiveness of her discipline.

Virginia had personally been a ‘leg’ girl, at least until the enjoyment of having those delicious big breasts. However, this whole matter of ‘do you prefer sexy breasts or sexy legs?’ provided a perfect opportunity to take a poke at Marla. She explained this very important fact to her mother one afternoon as they were strolling on the beach.

“Marla, it’s as if you have to choose whether you prefer women with big tits and not-so-good legs or even skinny ones, or women with sexy, strong, pretty legs and maybe small tits. But you can’t have both.”

Her mother decided to be difficult, recalling the times when her offspring beside her had relished pestering her with questions that could never be answered.

“Well, who’s running this contest, anyway? Why can’t you have both great legs and big breasts? And Virginia, you know I have never liked that word ‘tits’. Your father used to drive me up the wall with that and ‘boobs’ and ‘jugs.’ He knew I didn’t like it; he would talk about mine for an hour, then make this grand, smart-aleck apology and try to haul me off to bed.”

Her daughter had begun to snicker.

“Well, you certainly didn’t fight him off, MOM! I used to hear you two for hours in there.”

“Don’t try to change the subject on me. I don’t like those crude terms and I want to know who says you can’t have both large breasts and great legs.”


“Well, you just said that you can’t have both.”

“That was for the purpose of making a point, Mother!” Virginia was laughing now.

“You Anadolu Yakası Rus Escort have gorgeous breasts and legs that most women would kill for,” stated Marla. You have both.”

“Well, so do you, Marla.”

With that Virginia put her arms about her mother, darted her tongue into her mouth as she kissed her, and at the same time unfastened the small halter top straining under the load of Marla’s breasts. She stepped back pulling Marla’s top with her and grinning wickedly.

Her own Wicked Weasel excuse for a top fell off as well, baring her tanned breasts.

Marla doubled over with laughter, for she had long awaited such an opportunity to pull a fast one on her daughter.

Virginia, hardly one to miss an opportunity to display her breasts in public, looked stunned.

“You think that I fell off a tomato truck last night, girl. But I’ve got your number in more ways than you can guess!”

“How did you do that?” asked a baffled blonde shemale. “I mean, when? You are fast, you know that?”

“Honey, I am faster than you know.”

“Mother, I know about your girl friends. I don’t mind at all; in fact, I think it’s very special for you to be close with them. Yes, I’d say you are fast.”

“I wasn’t trying to conceal anything from you, Darling. I just enjoy women and like to be intimate with my close friends. And don’t change the subject.”

For some time Marla had been intimate with two of her friends in Brazil, one the twenty-three-year-old wife of a local high school teacher and the other a fifty-year-old beauty, Anna-Marie, who managed a series of clothing stores. The younger woman, Carla, a brunette, had a luscious figure and the most beautiful body hair she had ever seen. Carla was fun to be with, was stylish, and had a growth of underarm fur that surpassed that of most men. She had incredible legs, also unshaven, and liked to wear shorts and short dresses. Her hairy legs were a study in sensuality. Virginia thought her to be extremely arousing.

Anna-Marie Candler, a lesbian and close friend of her mother, was what Virginia wanted to look like when she arrived at that age. Her body resembled that of a thirty-year-old while her face had those delectable lines at the edges of her eyes, lines that bespoke the experience and sensuality of an older woman.

“Marla, the fact that they adore you is a grand compliment.” Virginia stared down at her mother who lay on the sand. Her great breasts, still shapely and heavy, trembled with her breathing.

Virginia bent over her mother’s face and felt her own nipples brush her mother’s chest. The sensation was delicious and very gently edged her across a boundary she had silently wanted to cross yet had been hesitant to do so.

She placed one hand over Marla’s warm breast, squeezing it tenderly, and bent to kiss the woman beneath her. Marla’s response was so sudden that it seemed she had been awaiting this act by her daughter. Her tongue shot into Virginia’s mouth, wet and impudent and demanding, and she began to squirm gently beneath the aroused shemale hovering over her.

Virginia allowed saliva to flow into Marla’s mouth as she darted her tongue about her mother’s teeth and gums. Marla’s breast was large and heavy and its nipple hard; she stroked it, massaged it between her thumb and forefinger, and listened to her mother sigh with pleasure.

Barriers fell silently, swiftly. Virginia played with Marla’s navel post, tenderly pulling on it and then running her nail down its diamond chip-studded length.

“Beautiful blonde princess…are you sure you really want to do this?” Marla’s voice caught slightly with arousal and emotion.

“Marla, you must have had some idea this past year of my feelings about you. I love you so very much.”

Virginia stared down at her mother, into her eyes and beyond. The sand was warm but not uncomfortable. She wished for a beach towel, then decided that now was now, and she had no intention of missing this opportunity to make love to this captivating lady.

“There is no way we can avoid getting sandy,” whispered Virginia. “I’m going to undress us both, and then you are going with me into the water.”

She carefully drew down her mother’s small covering, baring her smooth pussy with its plump outer lips. Then she stood and removed her own thong. Her hard cock bounced free, liberated from its restraint as she put out her hand and drew her mother up from the sand. Together they walked slowly into the water.

Several couples on the beach nearby stared in amazement at the uninhibited nudity and the sensuality of two sexy women holding hands, one of whom had a cock of memorable proportions and was firm enough to incline upward slightly. Virginia glanced about and when she saw that they were being watched closely she smiled.

To Marla the sun on her naked body felt warm and rich, creating in her a sensation so erotic that she equated it with eating something thick and creamy with a light amaretto taste. That was when she unashamedly admitted to herself that she wanted to have Virginia’s cock in her mouth. Deep into her throat. As she walked beside her gorgeous son her pussy seemed as if she were experiencing an exquisite little buzz. That thick cock bounced about and continued to point slightly upward, and all eyes within range were now fixed upon the sight.

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