Early on, long ago, the pink fog was a beckoning to a morally disapproved dark side but the scandalous rush of vulnerability and enjoyment of the tactile experience was too intoxicating. There's nothing like having a nice pair of boobies. Anxiety and depression were just matter of fact conditions at times. I'm certainly relieved that there weren't any agenda jerks at the time to explain that I was just a girl trapped in a man's body. Back then and to this day it's a very satisfying creative and erotic activity. Maybe it's like camping, the thrill of living without a house although in my normal life, I'm not really wild.
