Do NOT read this if you're under age for your community, or if reading this story is illegal for you or against your community's standards. <!--ADULTSONLY--> This story is copyright. I, the author, am an attorney, and if I find this story has been misappropriated in any way, shape or form, I will not hesitate to pursue any remedies available. In other words, don't steal what isn't yours. In limited situations, I may grant permission to use this story upon request. To make such a request, or to provide feedback (ALL FLAMES WILL BE DELETED WITHOUT COMMENT), email me at: TransdeLion AT NO SPAM yahoo dot com. By the way, some people may think they recognize some of the characters in this story from real life. While it's true that there may be similarities, all of these characters are individuals made up from various combined thoughts in my head, and are NOT representative of any actual person. They're all fragments of my own imagination, god help me. If anything, in some small way all of these people are me, even if they don't look, taste, or smell like I do. I am a transman, myself. Many of the actions in this story are authentically what it might be like for a female to male transsexual, but the actual story is not true. I have had surgery, and am not in the same body configuration as Ferdinand, although I was, once. Don't expect a man-in-a-dress story, that's not going to happen here. Makeup and pretty clothes have no place in this tale. ------------------------------------------------------------- A Moment of Pride by TransdeLion "Ebony? What do you mean, ebony?" asked Ferdinand, running his hand down over his own generous belly. "Ah, er," Jason stumbled, "well, more like mahogany. Your skin is mahogany, Ferdy." "Yeah, not all pasty and washed out like yours," Ferdinand laughed. He curled over further on the bed, and kissed the head of Jason's penis. "But my penis is bigger, and I'm uncut," whined Jason. "Oh, yeeeeaaaahhhhh," drawled Ferdinand. "That is soooo true." He took Jason's cock into his mouth and began moving his head up and down on it. "OOOoooohhhhh," groaned Jason. "You suck so gooooooooooddddd." The only sound that Ferdinand could make was a garbled mmm mmm. Six months earlier, the two men wouldn't have thought of acknowledging each other's existence, much less having sex with each other or being in love. Each was on the furthest periphery of the other's world. One night in early summer, Ferdinand had gone to a female-to-male transsexual support group at the Rainbow Community House. He usually managed to get to the group about once a month or less. He was a very large man of color, of mixed race, being the child of an Indigenous father and a Jamaican mother of African descent. Most of the other f2m's were Caucasian or Jewish, and none were anywhere near as fat as he. Their issues were not his issues, and whenever he opened his mouth to talk about the problems he was having in his life, he was politely but pointedly ignored. Why did he continue to attend, albeit sporadically? There was simply no other place where he could go where his gender wasn't challenged. He didn't have to prove himself as male, unlike in the two cultures of his origins, where there was a widespread belief that there are no Black or Native gays or lesbians and that trans people are a figment of the White imagination, or worse, part of the White disease. Ferdinand had very large breasts, and an obvious cleft that showed through his tight pants. Despite the universal health care provided in his country, sexual reassignment surgery was not funded by the government, and being impoverished, Ferdinand could not afford the thousands and thousands of dollars needed to pay the costs on his own. The other men in the trans group saw a man when they looked at Ferdinand, even if they couldn't get past his race and weight. In fact, Ferdinand felt as if he didn't have a home anywhere. The transmen in the group couldn't deal with his color or his fat. Native people couldn't adjust to his African heritage, and had lost their ancient tradition of honoring people of the third, or other, gender. The Jamaican culture had no place for the Indigenous part within him. Ferdinand was gay, he was drawn to gay men sexually, and longed to touch and be touched by men, but he was shunned by all the gay men he had ever known for the female attributes of his body. He was not a woman, and couldn't stand the expectations placed upon him by heterosexual men to act like a woman. Having no place where he fit in, Ferdinand cultivated a few friendships with special people who could look past his body to who he was. He also learned, mostly, how to be alone. He wondered what it would be like to be in a mixed grouping of all kinds of people, where each could talk about their problems, and each could be valued enough for careful listening one to another. He sat in the group pretending to pay attention as each of the White boys whined about the difficulties of going through the physical transition from female to male they were undergoing, and about whether to hide their past as they sought employment. These were not his issues. As they spoke, the ceiling above them began shaking and loud music forced them to yell. The Rainbow House was in constant use, and the room above them was was used by queer men learning to dance. The two groups, the transmen's group and the dance lesson, seemed to be always scheduled at the same time. "I just know everyone at work is laughing at me," said Craig, a young blond haired man with hazel eyes. " I want them to shut up. I can't wait until I get my top surgery, and can pass." Henry leaned forward. "It's the media. Shows like Jerry Springer have them all thinking we're freaks." Ferdinand began paying closer attention. He'd been giving some thought to how the media portrayed members of the various cultures of which he was part. "Thank god for queer media," said Bill. "They're really starting to get it right about us." The facilitator, Jesse, looked at Ferdinand. "Ferd, you've been quiet tonight. Anything you want to say?" Before he could stop himself, Ferdinand blurted out, "Queer media is ok if you're White and young and fit their image of what's beautiful. Take a look sometime at how people of color are shown. The picture always focus on a small part of the body, or feature a grimace. They never show people of color as a group or as complete individuals." Jesse leaped in, "I don't agree with you. They don't show transsexuals of color any worse than any other transsexuals. It's hard for all of us." Shit, said Ferdinand to himself. I shoulda known better and kept my mouth shut. They don't know and they don't want to know. If the White boys pretend they're treated just as badly as Black or Native queers, they can all feel the sorriest for themselves. Fuck 'em. Ferdinand did not respond to Jesse. He did not join in the ensuing conversation about the media, or any other topic for the rest of the meeting, but sat and stewed in his anger. The meeting ended when the Community House was closed for the evening. Ferdinand filed out of the room with everyone else, and joined the dense crowd milling on the sidewalk. The other meetings and activities in the building ended at the same time, and everyone was dumped out onto the street. There was laughter and loud talk. Suddenly, Ferdinand was shoved from the rear. He went off balance, and grabbed at Craig who was standing next to him to catch himself. Craig jumped back and pulled away so Ferdinand couldn't reach him. Ferdinand fell heavily and painfully to the ground. He was furious. He pushed this way and that, but his physical bulk and the awkward angle kept him from getting up. His fury grew as the multitude of people around him distanced themselves from his struggle. Finally, the slim young man who had knocked into him ran forward. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Let me help you." He grabbed Ferdinand's hand and began to pull. He was unable to lift Ferdinand up, but his buddy finally came forward and with both working together, Ferdinand was pulled to his feet. Ferdinand got right into the young man's face. "What the fuck, White boy? Can't you watch where you're going?" His target began visably shaking. "I, uh, I didn't mean, oh, I'm s-s-sorry." "Sorry!" yelled Ferdinand. "You sure are one sorry motherfucker. Get out of my face." "Ok-k-k," stuttered the man, Turning, he hurried from the scene, his buddy with him. Ferdinand chuckled. Yes, he was feeling much better now. Fuck all those White twerps and their holier-than-thou attitudes. He was happy to have been so nasty to one of them. Look at the chicken run. By the time Ferdinand got home to his government subsidy rathole, his attitude had changed. "Damn, I was a real shit to that boy. It was an accident. Why was I so mean to him? Craig was the asshole, I should have yelled at him. Why didn't I? Why did I take it all out on that boy?" he asked himself. He knew full well that if he were honest with himself, he'd have to face the fact that a member of his own support group, someone he'd was supposed to be able to count on, couldn't even stand for Ferdinand to touch him. Craig had acted like Ferdinand was dirt or worse. And, further, acknowledging Craig's reaction meant feeling pain and shame leading to depression, or confronting Craig and risking rejection perhaps from the whole f2m group. For the time being, Ferdinand avoided dealing with either unpleasant option, and went to bed. The oblivion of sleep didn't help, though. He tossed and turned all night, and by the time Ferdinand got up the next morning, his stomach was tied in knots. He made coffee, and sat in the window looking over the neighborhood hugging his mug. Ok, he said to himself, the only way I am going to get out of this and still live with myself, is to do the right thing. I've got to deal with Craig, and I've got to apologize to that poor boy, whoever he is. He groaned. He didn't want to go back to the Rainbow House to do either. He picked up the telephone and called his one close friend that sometimes also went to the f2m support group, Lars. He figured that if he committed to going to group with Lars, he could keep himself from backing out of dealing with the whole unpleasant incident. "Hey Lars, man, what's up?" he said when Lars answered. "Not much, Dude, what's going on?" "At group last night, nothing's changed. They were jerks," Ferdinance said. "We were talking about how the media portrays transsexuals, and stupid me, I just had to point out that it's worse for people of color. Like, I said, transsexuals of color aren't even shown as people, just a bunch of body parts put together to look like freaks." "What did they say?" asked Lars. "They looked at me like I was an alien from outer space," laughed Ferdinand. "Which, to them, I am." Lars, whose parents were one each Chinese and Scandinavian, joined in laughing. "Yup, you sure are! Me, too. Who'd want to admit they're from Earth?" "Yeah, that's right! Heh! In the group, however, I ended up not saying anything, just letting them go on about their stupid meeting, and their stupid jobs, and all the freakin' surgery they're getting." Lars sighed. "Ferd, we talked about this. Are you sure that was the right way to deal with it?" Ferdinand sniffed. "No, it wasn't. I just got angry, and then I did something really stupid after the meeting." "Uh, oh, what did you do?" asked Lars suspiciously. "Oooh, after the meeting, I was out on the sidewalk, you know, when it's gets really crowded when the Community House closes? One of the dancers from upstairs came through the door and accidentally knocked into me in all the jostling," he started. "Yeah?" encouraged Lars. "I, uh, I fell down," said Ferdinand sheepishly. "What!" exclaimed Lars. "Yeah, I fell down. When I started to fall, I tried to grab onto Craig, who was standing there sorta next to me. He saw me grab for his arm, and the fucker jumped back so I couldn't touch him. He acted like I was dirt." "Maybe he was just startled," Lars suggested. "No, man, you could see it in his face. He didn't want me to touch him," Ferdinand spit out. "That asshole! That little turd! Like his shit don't stink." Lars was being totally supportive. "Yeah, but then I did something really dumb. The only one who would help me was the guy who knocked me down, and his buddy. This little guy who didn't look like he would hurt a fly if he could avoid it, and when I got up I started screaming at him. I scared him bad. I was...really bad to him," Ferdinand confessed guiltily. "Oh," said Lars, hesitantly. "Did you hurt him?" "Well, not physically. I yelled at him pretty hard, though." Lars asked, "What do you think you should do?" Ferdinand was quiet for a moment, then he said, "I think I should find him and apologize." "Yeah, I think so, too," said Lars. "That's what I would want if I was that kid. If I didn't get scared all over again, and run away faster. You can be pretty scary when you get going, Dude." Ferdinand grinned and laughed out loud. "Yup, I be bad. Yeah, ok, that's what I gotta do, I gotta find that kid. I think I can find him after group again maybe. So you going to group this coming week?" Lars guessed Ferdinand was seeking moral support. "Sure, I'll go. It's been a while, it would be good if I went." Ferdinand released a huge sigh of relief. "Oh, man, that would be great. Thanks." "No problem," said Lars. "I can do that. Oh, hey there's my doorbell, I gotta go." "'Kay," said Ferdinand. "Talk to ya' later. And thanks." "Is ok," said Lars in a Quasimodo voice. "Bye." "Later." Unfortunately, the skinny young man was not around after the next group meeting, nor the next. As a result of looking for him, Ferdinand attended meetings much more regularly. They hadn't changed much, although Ferdinand did find himself speaking up a little more than before. The guys weren't any more willing to listen to him, but Ferdinand was less willing to back down from his opinions. The first meeting back was rather exhilarating for Ferdinand when he stood up against Craig. "I'm feeling rather angry about something that happened last week," said Ferdinand during 'check in.' Check in was held at the beginning of the meeting, when people said how they were doing generally, and could ask for group time if they were in crisis. Ferdinand usually passed without speaking during check in. "I'm angry because right after meeting, somebody ran into me from behind and knocked me down to the ground out in front of the Community House. When I started going down, I grabbed for Craig who was next to me. He jumped back so I couldn't reach him, and he wouldn't help me get back up," stated Ferdinand firmly. "The only one who helped me up was the guy who knocked me down." Craig had lowered his head, and mumbled something. "What's that?" asked Jesse, the facilitator. Craig looked up, his face bright red. "I'm sorry, Ferdinand. I was stupid." For a second there was silence. Ferdinand shot a quick glance at Lars, who had a huge grin. Then Ferdinand nodded at Craig. "Thanks, man." Craig smiled a tiny, humble smile. "John, you're next," called Jesse, moving check in to the next person in the circle. Later, after the meeting, Ferdinand and Lars stepped out onto the sidewalk a little after the other guys. Craig and the other men were standing in a small circle surrounded by the milling mass of people evicted from the Community House after closing time. Seeing Ferdinand, Craig broke away and worked his way over to him. "Hey, Ferdinand, I really am sorry," he said. Ferdinand waved his hand. "It's ok. It's over." "I was wondering...are you coming for coffee with us?" asked Craig. Although most of the guys went together down to the local StarCup's for coffee after the meeting, Ferdinand had never felt as if he was welcome to come along before. "Ah, o...kay. Lars, you wanna go?" Lars beamed. "Sure, that'd be great." Ferdinand leaned over near Lars' ear. "Traitor," he whispered. Lars laughed out loud. Amazingly, Ferdinand and Lars had a great time at StarCup's. Lars and John played backgammon, and Ferdinand, Jesse, Craig, and a few others had a rousing discussion about horizontal hostility, the tendency of any oppressed group's members to lash out against each other, rather than banding together. By the end of the evening, everyone was laughing and felt relaxed to be together. Lars and Ferdinand walked to the subway station when the group finally broke up just before the last train. "Wow, that went well," said Lars. "Yeah, I'm, like, shocked. You never know," Ferdinand said, shaking his head. "Nope, you never do. I'm glad you talked me into coming tonight," said Lars. "I'm glad you came. Thanks," said Ferdinand, whacking Lars gently on the back. "Now, I just gotta find that kid that knocked me over." "It will happen," stated Lars. "You know, you're probably right," said Ferdinand, nodding his head. "Well, goodnight. Catch you later." He gave a little wave, and went off to catch his train. "Later, Dude," called Lars, as he left to board his own. Despite Lars' optimism, the young man did not again show on the sidewalk after meeting. Ferdinand finally gave up looking for him. The city's Pride event was coming up, and Ferdinand forgot all about him as he threw himself into organizing and participating in various events. The week before the march was jam packed, and Ferdinand wore himself to a frazzle. He looked forward to the march itself because for once he was not scheduled to ride in it or organize any part of it, and he could stand on the sides and watch it like anybody else. Getting there a little early, Ferdinand found a place in the front near where the march turned onto Dundee Street. It was along the last part of the route, so the sidelines weren't knee deep in people yet. Luckily, he was in shade, and found a place to sit on the curb. Although the crowd was energetic and noisy, he was so exhausted that he zoned out in the warm air for quite a while. Ferdinand came alert when he heard the throaty roars of the Dykes on Bikes' Harleys making up the front vanguard of the parade. He rolled sideways onto his knees, and pushed himself up. Cool! There they were! Some people had pushed their way in front of him, and lined the street between the marchers and the sidewalk. As the dykes passed, police officers came through and pushed the people back. In the crush, Ferdinand found himself pressed against a smaller person on his left. He turned in response to the touch, and looked into the eyes of the young man he for which he had been searching. "Ack!" the young man cried, his eyes getting very large and panicky. He began pushing backwards through the now tightly packed crowd, trying to get away from Ferdinand. Ferdinand quickly caught his breath. "No," he said quietly. "I'm sorry." The kid kept pushing back, desperately looking for an escape route. Ferdinand reached out and grabbed his arm. "I mean it," he said quickly and much more loudly over the noise of the bikes. "I'm really sorry. I've been looking and looking for you. I wanted to tell you that." The man stopped trying to get away, and tilted his head slightly, looking at Ferdinand. "For real?" he shouted. Ferdinand nodded deeply. "Yes." "Oh thank god," said the other. He smiled in relief. The roar of the crowd got very loud, and talking became impossible. Ferdinand smiled back, then turned to watch the parade. The Mapleton City Pride parade was huge. Over the years, it had become the third largest Pride event in the world. This year floats and bands and performers and various politicians strolled past for a couple of hours. The parade was the culmination of the week long celebration of diversity, and the energy of the viewers and participants was at fever pitch. Finally, the last few tailriders came past. The crowd got strangely quiet, and began to break up. Ferdinand turned to the young man. "Will you come and have a cup of coffee with me?" he asked. He got a suspicious look in return. "No, no, I just want to, well, I'd like to show you I can be nice," Ferdinand explained. "You don't have to do that. It's ok," was the response. "No, I just want to. Please," begged Ferdinand. The man hestitated, then said, "Well, ok. It can't hurt, I guess." Then, wonder of wonders, a huge grin spread across his face. "Actually....." "What?" asked Ferdinand. "Ah, I'd like that. I'd like that very much." Woooooh! Ferdinand thought to himself. Little butterflies danced in his stomach. "My name is Jason," said the boy. "Who are you?" He stuck his hand out, changed his mind, and gave Ferdinand a quick hug. "Er, Fer-Ferdinand." Ferdinand wondered how he had just lost control of the situation. He covered his unease by beginning the short walk to StarCup's. "What do they call you for short?" Ferdinand never liked it when people shortened his name. Another surprise, he piped right up without thinking and said, "Ferdy." Uhoh, he said, watching his own behavior. He was turning into a basket case. What was going on? "Ferdy?" Jason laughed. Ferdinand blushed under his dark skin. "Yeah...." "Ferdy," Jason breathed, letting his tongue roll the name around. Ferdinand liked the way Jason said his name. "Yeah," he said again more assertively. "Definitely." Both men laughed. They had arrived at StarCup's. They wedged their way through the crowd, and bought coffee drinks, Ferdinand an iced Americana, and Jason, an iced Frappacini. Ferdinand suggested they find a place to sit outside, since the cafe was wall to wall post-Pride revelers. Jason followed Ferdinand as they walked out of StarCup's. Ferdinand thought he felt Jason's hand brush against his rear. Wow, that's weird, he thought. Must have been an accident. They sat on a shaded knoll in a tiny little parkette nearby. From a start consisting of a few hm's and ah's, Jason blurted out that life as a gay man of color must be really hard because of prejudice. "Wow, I can't believe you just said that," said Ferdinand. "I don't think I've ever had a White person bring it up to my face before." Jason clapped his hands over his eyes. "Oh god," he said. "I'm going to get myself shot some day. They shouldn't take me out in public. Everyone tells me how blunt I am." Ferdinand gently pulled Jason's hands down. "No, I am amazed. Good amazed. This way it won't sit like a white elephant between us, as if we were pretending my color was invisible. Shit, man. Thank you. Yes, it's hard. And it's doubly hard because I am a pre-op transsexual." Jason's mouth fell open. "You mean, you want to be a woman?" "No," Ferdinand laughed sadly. How many times did he tell this story? How soon would Jason run away screaming? Again? "I was born with a female body, but I am male. I've always been a man, well, a boy when I was younger, but I was given a female body to work with." "I thought you were shaped large on the top, but some men are just shaped bigger like that." Jason looked at him searchingly. "Tell me more. How do you know you're a man?" "How do you know you're a man?" Ferdinand asked. "Well, hello, I have a penis," Jason snapped. "Pretend for second that you didn't, that there was an accident or you were born deformed and the doctors had to remove it," proposed Ferdinand. "How would you know that you're a man?" "I just would, I would just feel like a man," stated Jason. He looked suddently up at Ferdinand. "Oh." "Yeah, Oh." They sat quietly for a minute. "So...," began Jason, tentatively. "Is it ok to talk about this?" "YES!" Ferdinand shot out. "Thank god you're asking questions, rather than running away like I was some evil monster. It's like the talking about color you were doing a minute ago." "Cool," said Jason. "So, do you have a penis?" "Well, there's the second most frequently asked (or thought) question, right behind how do you know you're a man." Jason ducked his head. "You said I could ask..." "Yes, I'm glad you did rather than keep it in and wonder about it until worry about it drove you to run away or get nasty to me. It's just that I get asked that A LOT. But the benefit here is that I'll never have to tell YOU again, you'll know. No, I don't have a penis. I have what the transman community calls a micropenis, which in a woman would be an enlarged clitoris. I am on testosterone, which caused my micropenis to grow, and which has given me facial and body hair. Other than those changes, I still have breasts and a cunt," explained Ferdinand. "Some transmen consider it an insult to be asked about their body parts, that it's an invasion of privacy. It does feel invasive, because we don't ask people what they have in their pants. However, I understand that this is so far out of most people's experience that they don't know how to relate to a transperson, and I hope giving them this information helps them, and helps other transmen not to have to deal with this question. It's not easy to talk about this, although it's gotten easier for me over time." "Can you have an orgasm?" asked Jason. "YES!" replied Ferdinand joyously. Both men laughed again. "Are you attracted to men, or...," began Jason. "Men, definitely men, well, at least 95% men," said Jason. "Why change then? Why not stay a woman and date men? Being gay is hard," Jason said, sadly. "Jason, I'm already gay. I've always been a man. I sure don't want to be with no het men. I don't want to cook and clean and make babies for some man. I don't want to play no woman games. I want to be with men who like being with men. Nothing wrong with being a woman, nothing wrong with liking the things that are associated with being a woman, but I'm not and I don't," replied Ferdinand. "Once in a great while, a woman will catch my eye, but it's rare. That's why I said 95%." "Yeah, me too, about the 95% bit," confessed Jason. "But some of my feminist and lesbian friends would disagree with you about what women are like." "Sure, there's a lot of overlap between what makes a man and what makes a woman, although society has a way of making those roles pretty narrow and limiting how much outside of the lines any person can color. I'm not saying I think a woman can't be free to do what she wants. I don't want to be a woman driving a fire truck, as cool as that might be. I already am a MAN driving a fire truck," stated Ferdinand. "There is confusion about what sex and what gender are. Gender is about how I see myself, how I carry myself, whether I feel like and present as a man. Sex is about who I want to fuck. Someone said once, to paraphrase, Gender is in the head, Sex is between the legs." (Thanks to Virginia Prince.) "I think I'm beginning to understand, and maybe I already had some sense about it from hanging out at the Rainbow Community House. But, you're the first transsexual man I've ever spoken to," said Jason. Ferdinand laughed. "I doubt that. There are lots and lots of transpeople, more than you could ever know, and many who pass so well, you would never know you were talking to one. I'm impressed, though. You're still here, and I don't get the idea that you're disgusted or grossed out. I also don't see purient interested in your eye, you know, I don't think you're getting off on thinking I'm a freak." Jason frowned, and thought for a moment. Then he looked up at Ferdinand, and said, "Actually, maybe I am a pervert. I really do have a thing for large men of color, daddy Black bears. I am turned onto you and your fat. I also like you, the person." He chuckled. "I never thought I would be saying that to you after I knocked you over that day and you screamed at me, although I've thought you were hot from the first time I saw you. What? What's wrong?" Ferdinand was staring at Jason with his mouth hanging open. "You're turned on to me?" Jason blushed, but returned Ferdinand's stare. "Yes. I am." "Oh my," Ferdinand said. He was flummoxed. Jason reached over and ever so gently laid his hand on Ferdinand's left breast. "Yes," he repeated, "I am." He slowly moved his hand down the very large breast to the nipple, and gently tweaked it through Ferdinand's shirt. Ferdinand looked at Jason, thinking. Coming to a decision, he softly asked, "Would you like to come to my house? It's been a very long time for me. Maybe I forgot..." "Now who's telling stories?" Jason asked. "Yes, I want to." Ferdinand took a deep breath, then stood up. He reached down and took Jason's hand and pulled him to his feet. Leaning into Jason, he found Jason's mouth and kissed him gently. Jason's hands grabbed Ferdinand's shoulders and pulled him much closer, and probed his tongue into Ferdinand's mouth. Ferdinand felt a shot of sexual desire so strong it took his breath away. He eagerly sucked Jason's tongue. "Um, let's go," said Jason. "Yes," responded Ferdinand, "right now." They made good time back to Ferdinand's tiny apartment. The trains were running frequently to handle the high volume of Pride travelers. Alone as they rode up in the elevator, their hands were already exploring each other's chests through fabric. Jason was shocked at the sheer size of Ferdinand's breasts; they were immense. Although they threw him a little bit, he was very excited by the obvious rolls of tummy flesh - large bouncy spare tires ready to explore. Ferdinand was completely thrilled at touching Jason, feeling his spare, bony little form. Just inside the door of Ferdinand's place in the short hallway, they turned to look at each other. Ferdinand aggressively angled in to kiss Jason. This kiss was not gentle. This kiss was Ferdinand biting Jason's lips, bruising them, making them puff and swell, and then Ferdinand was taking Jason's mouth with his tongue. Jason groaned, and opened his mouth in complete surrender. He wanted to be bitten. He tentatively pushed his tongue into Ferdinand's mouth, and was rewarded when that was bitten, too. He was becoming molten lava just having his mouth flesh abused. Ferdinand captured Jason's hands with his own as he continued to kiss Jason. He brought his hands with Jason's to his shirt buttons, unbuttoned the top button, moved to the next and undid that one, too, and continued down the line. When his shirt gapped open, he placed Jason's hands inside on his giant tits. There was a tiny moment of resistance; Jason then began running his hands over the large bags of flesh. He gasped. This turned him on more than he could ever have imagined. Instead of feeling weird, it felt great! A man with breasts meant that he could enjoy tits without having to deal with women, about whom he didn't have a clue. Even more astonishing, these breasts were covered with dense, dark hair. The dose of AndrodyneGel testosterone that Ferdinand took daily put hair on his chest - all of his chest, except his nipples. And what nipples they were! They were surrounded by huge, dark chocolate areolas, they were thick, and they were long.