I am in Canada.

It doesn't seem like Canada to me, because it's very warm, and the windows are open, and I think there are even palm trees in the distance.

I have come to visit a sister, who called me on the phone and told me she knew all about me. An instant later, here I am, in bed with her.

She is not wearing much makeup at all. Her lips are red, and she has long eyelashes. Her hair is long, soft, a light shade of brown, and it hangs to her shoulders. But there is no mistaking that she is a man. A man with soft features, but with the bone structure that tells me this is a delicious she-male who deliberately is crossing the boundaries.

Her body is hairless, and she wears a garterbelt of black lace, and her panties are a sheer black and I can see that she is fully erect and ready in them. She has black stockings that are up around mid-thigh, with a lot of writing on the thigh bands. It must be the manufacturer's name and specifications. I think to ask her what brand she buys.

She wears high heels to bed. Her nipples are large on her flat, smooth chest.

I am almost identical to her except everything is in flame orange-red.

We scissor each other, and it feels like two women touching their clits. It fits so well. We begin to move in a rhythm, scissoring faster and faster.

Both of us are breathing heavily now, so excited that it's working, that we are having lesbian sex!

She tells me that she is so wet. I am too.

Our panties are slick and wet and it feels so good.

"Kiss me," she cries.

She hugs me close to her, and I feel a warm flood going all over my lap, all over my legs. She is wetting the bed fiercely with her come. She is drenching it with pulsations. She has never come like this before, she whimpers, holding me.

"Did you come too?" she asks.

A blush of shame comes over my face as I admit that I am so aroused I am going to do it in my panties.

I hold her, and it's almost like urinating, but it's too orgasmic to be that. It comes out in pulses.

"Can you feel me wetting my panties?" I whisper. "Is it going all over you? Is it going all over you, my darling?"

"Yes, yes...." she whispers, "you're getting it all over me..."

We are out on a piazza. Is this Canada? Isn't this Italy? We are drying in the sun. We have tall glasses and sunglasses on and there is a beach. We are wearing bathing suits like chic Italian models. I reach over and run my finger over her one-piece suit.

Everything is dry.