1. The Politics of Dancing


    Date: 6/5/2016, Categories: Shemales, Author: TransContinental, Rating: 83, Source: xHamster

    "What the fuck are we doing here. Seriously?" I growled in his ear. I was still smiling, and I doubt anyone was going to be lip reading. We were on the dance floor, my arms around his neck, slowly swaying to a crappy Lawrence Welk-wanna be band. "You know what we're doing here, darling." His reply was sugar coated, sappy with his big grin. And why shouldn't he be smiling. He was dancing with the most beautiful woman in the place. The men were obviously jealous of his new trophy wife, and the women were too polite and too mannered to say anything directly, but their eyes said it all: rented eye candy. Hooker. Whore. Sure, they complimented my upswept blonde hairdo, and my flashy jewelry, but behind the smiles, I saw envy, hate, and in a couple of cases, lust? You could make the case in their favor, but I don't like to look at it that way. "You know these people make me sick, and if they knew anything about me, they'd feel the exact same way." "Patience, my love. We don't have to stay all night." That gave me an idea. But wait. Let me back up. We were at the annual ************* County GOP Gala Dinner and Fundraiser. I was deep in conservative territory, and I was hardly a conservative. I'm a left-leaning, pot-smoking, war-protesting atheistic transsexual. And the man I fell in love with, the man who made me the woman I am, was a rather influential person the local Republican party. Largely, because he gave them a lot of money, for candidates who voted against GLBT issues. ...
    Issues like same sex marriage. Like allowing transsexuals to change their birth certificates. Two things near and dear to my heart. But, seeing my birth certificate was from several states away, and same sex marriage was still banned in this state, they weren't pressing issues. The man I loved, the man I want to marry, loved a transsexual, and had anyone here known what was still between my legs, the praying and laying on of the hands would have commenced. Of course, they'd still welcome him and his checks. But me? I was a freak, a c***d of Satan in their eyes. He knew all this, but he still fraternized with them. They were from his tribe: white, affluent Christians. He just knew how to separate his private life from his public image, I guess. The little pervert loved me. And I loved him. Oh, I would have fallen in love with him even if he hadn't saved my life, although the autographed photo of him standing with Rush Limbaugh and Rand Paul may have given me pause. We met online, and talked for about a year before we met. I was a crossdresser trying to make ends meet, and trying to decide if I should buy food or a tube of lipstick. I fell for him, I think, before he swooped into my life, and made all the bad stuff go away. And he did that without sex, or even the promise of sex. He'd set me up so I could quit my menial job and concentrate on going full time before I even considered going to bed with him. (The sex was so good, I sometimes regretted waiting.) He paid for my ...
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