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Jessica—Inroduction to a Transsexual

June 4, 2013 Leave a comment

As a transsexual, Jessica is lucky. She always had a loving and understanding family and friends. When I met her I was neither totally ignorant nor especially knowledgeable about transsexuals. I asked Jessica if she would mind me asking questions and telling me about herself. She understood that I was honestly curious, not voyeuristic, and she graciously agreed to educate me. Thank you, Jessica. I hope others learn as I did. Here are her words.

Nina Poon, transsexual model. Photo by David Shankborn

Nina Poon, transsexual model. Photo by David Shankborn

The first thing we notice when we meet someone is if they are male or female. If we meet a woman, she might have small beasts and a shaved head, but we still know she is a woman. A man might have a ponytail, be young and not have facial hair, but we still know he is a man.

When we are children we quickly know if a new playmate is a girl or a boy, and we don’t have to look in her diaper. And if we can’t tell from appearance we can tell as soon as we begin to play. Signals, conscious and subliminal, “tell” us.

We also know from a very young age if we are male or female—where we fit. We understand it implicitly, and it does not have to do with our genitals. Gender is our essence.

I am a woman and a transsexual. I was born with a penis but I had fem features and female behaviors, so my mom wisely decided to raise me as a girl. I take hormones off and on, and I started when I was young, once my mom decided I needed to start forming breast tissue. When I was fourteen I was a small B. At sixteen I had my first boob job, and then I was a C cup. I also got my lips enhanced.

I took hormones, for my boobs, to keep them natural looking, and also, since I was going through teen stages, to help keep my fem features. Thankfully, I was born mostly fem in the first place. The doc even said at birth that some of my chromosomes were mixed, and that’s why I was much more fem. It’s actually quite common. One estimate is one in every five hundred people.

Growing up at times wasn’t fun, but once things started to gel and I was accepted as a girl it turned out great. I was lucky to have such a supportive family.

I think of myself as interesting, and I’m fun to be around. I love being the center of attention and creating a stir. My mom, sis, and I love to go out and act flirtatious, showing off our bodies and being sexually outrageous, even being slutty.

It’s okay if you are ignorant about girls like me. If you’re honestly curious, I’d like to help you understand. It’s fine.

I have a penis, and it’s been amazing to be in the best of both worlds. Sometimes I think about getting a complete sex change. I’ve been think about it for the past five years, on and off, but I love being able to use my penis and have fun with it. It’s six inches when I’m really turned on, which is at the high end of average for a man.

I know that many people think that a woman like me is a man who is confused, but I assure you I am not confused. The only things that got confused were aspects of my physical development, early in gestation.

I hope I am helping you learn what you were looking for and helping you get a good understanding of my background and people like me.

I started school as a girl, teachers and some others knew, and I was accepted as a girl. As I got older some people knew and others didn’t. I didn’t want to freak anyone out, so I would get changed near my friends or in another part of the locker room.

To be specific, I do have a penis, it looks like a normal, and it is circumcised. I also have testicles, a scrotum, and a prostate gland, and they work normally. I ejaculate, and when I’m not on hormones I can shoot some nice loads.

At first, when I was on a hormone cycle, hormones did affect my ability to come. When I was off hormones I could come. But the hormones increased my puberty levels and helped transform me into more of a woman. I don’t have to be on hormones all the time, anymore.

As far as facial hair I was lucky, because I never developed much. I started taking hormone pills before I hit puberty, so maybe that helped, but, whatever the reason, I never got much body hair. What I do get I get waxed.

My family relations revolve mostly around my mom and sister. My father left us about a year or so after I was born. He came back a few years later, but he was too much into drugs and got into trouble, so my mom told him to leave us for good.

As long as I can remember I dressed as a girl. As I said, I was born more fem, and even the docs said I would turn out more fem. I understood from the beginning that I had a penis and other girls didn’t, and I accepted that I was different. My mom and family reassured me that even though I was different I was special. After awhile some friends found out, and others who knew me since we were very little knew and have stood by me ever since. I have had some bad times, but I grew up in a small and supportive community.

I have tons of close friends from back home, and they all treated me as a girl, and no one really looked down on me. There were five families who knew about my secret, and they were protective of me and my family. Others only knew me as 100% female. Now I have some close friends, where I live, and I meet most of my friends from growing up and other out at bars, clubs, and parties. They give me love and friendship.

No one looking at pictures of me would doubt that I’m a woman. I work out 5 days a week and run, and what they would see is a fantastic figure—narrow waist, wide hips, full buttocks, and outstanding breasts. Usually I have dark hair, but I have highlighted my hair and have gone blond a bunch of times.

Would I be willing to give up the sexual feelings that my penis gives me in exchange for looking like a traditional woman? Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve thought about it—I’ve thought about if a penis makes me less of a woman and about a surgical sex change operation. One downside would be that I might lose sexual feelings—the new organs would not have the same nerve connections that my penis does, and I love my penis, and, OMG, Yes, I love the feelings it gives me. It’s a big part, pun intended, of who I am.

When I was a kid I played with my friends, and it’s common for youngsters to play you show me yours and I’ll show you mine. My friends and I did that, and when I was older my friends and I experimented. When I was sixteen I went down on a girl, and she sucked my cock. We practiced on each other, and later a guy friend of ours joined us, and we all took turns on each other. So, I’m just an ordinary girl, a woman now, and I hope you can see me that way.

Jessica

FEMEN

July 10, 2012 Leave a comment

FEMEN Official Photograph

People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, PETA, was founded in 1980 and became famous for its tactic of getting attention by using nude protest and advertising.

I noticed and wondered if the PETA tactic was effective or if the women showing themselves naked to get support for their cause was misguided. Perhaps it was the cause itself that gave me doubts. It isn’t that mistreatment of animals is trivial, but with all the abuse of people—rape, murder, torture, war, genocide—I tended to dismiss PETA as fighting for a cause that was down the list of important issues. Also, I wondered if the women showing themselves naked were not only sincere about their cause, something of which I had no  doubt, but if part of their motivation was exhibitionism. I apologize for my doubts, which are offensive.

Of FEMEN, on the other hand, I never had doubts. It was founded in Ukraine in 2008 and fights against sex tourism, prostitution, abuse of women, and the status of women in general.

I must say that when I first noticed FEMEN it was because of photos of its naked protesters, but it soon became obvious that the causes for which FEMEN struggles are not trivial, and the women who expose themselves to get attention to fight for their beliefs are courageous and must not be denigrated. As such, I include only a single photo, that above, which is the official photo of the organization. If you wish to see bare-breasted photos of strong, angry, and gorgeous women who are willing to debase themselves, if that’s what it is, to fight for their cause, then google “femen protests.” But I hope that you, as I, will come to understand and support FEMEN and its members who courageously sacrifice their privacy for their beliefs.

With my greatest respect,

Matthew

Slave Girl Paintings, Pornography And Art

April 14, 2012 9 comments

With digital cameras and willing models, who seem to be in plentiful supply, anyone can be an artist, and images of scenes that tickle our fancies, whatever forms those fancies take, are readily available. But oh how much more difficult it was in times past to create these  image. One had to be really be an artist.

In the nineteenth century there was an art movement called Orientalism. It depicted life, real or imagined, in what looks to be Southern Europe, such as the slave markets of ancient Rome, or the Near East. There were several painters—Jean-Léon Gérôme, Giulio Rosati, et. al.—who specialized in this work. Following are examples for your pleasure and edification.

Slave Painting by Otto Pilny (Swiss, 1866-1936)

In the painting above, the desert tribesmen are enjoying a smoke when two slave girls are brought into camp and held by men sporting leering grins.

Slave Girl by Ansen Hofmann

I love the little blush of hair, and I note the girl—well, okay, clearly a woman—is a natural redhead. She is displaying herself, but the men seem to be distracted. Is she displaying herself because she was ordered to? Trained to? Or is she willingly asking for attention? The man on the right seems as if he’s about to pat the young woman’s ass. He’ll be telling her: Don’t worry, my dear. I’ll won’t be ignoring you much longer.

Pharaohs Handmaidens by John Collier

Ahhh Yes, I remember well the days when I was a Pharaoh, and these three beauties were in my service. The one on the right is asking: do you need me Master?

Selling Slaves in Rome by Jean Léone Gérôme

This young woman is certain to bring a good price. Her clothes are discarded behind her, as she stands before the buyers. I see several hands raised. I wonder what roll is played by the young man in the lower left? Does he bring her and take her back to her cell? I wonder what perks he enjoys.

Jean-Leon Gerome (French , 1824-1904). Snake Charmer, about 1870. French, Oil on Canvas.

It’s not the snake she’s charming, its the snakes. I wonder what the young man is thinking i.e. the boy on the left.

Slaves For Sale by Gustave Boulanger

I wish I could read the girl’s sign. For Sale, plus some other choice words I imagine. He has a sign as well, so I guess he’s a slave too. He doesn’t look happy, but she seems to have accepted her fate.

Bargaining for a Slave by Giulio Rosati

If I owned her I’d drive a hard bargain too, so to speak. The buyer is putting on a tough face, but the seller is clearly holding all the cards.

Slave Market by Jean Léone Gérôme

Nearly every hand is raised for this young woman. I love her figure. The scribe behind her, the one with his writing instrument in his mouth, is certainly checking her out.

I’ve looked at this painting many times, but it wasn’t until today that I realized its story. This is not just a woman being sold. It’s a family—mother, four children, and perhaps a nanny. The oldest child seems to be a developing girl, and I don’t mean woman. Child porn, something I find repulsive, just for the record, seems to be subtly expressed in Léone Gérôme’s fantasy.

White Slave by Ernest Normand

Yes, a White slave indeed.

The Slave Market by Gérôme Jean-Léon

I know a man who is especially attracted to girls with straight teeth. This is another.

NY Fashion Week Spring 2012

September 26, 2011 2 comments

Ahhh, once again it’s New York Fashion week, and designers are taking advantage of young women who get paid little and will do most anything to try to make it as a model. One agent advised a nineteen year old trying to get hired to parade on the runway to lie and say she was eighteen—nineteen is way too old.

Then the girls, at least some of them, have to parade with their breasts bared for the viewing pleasure of the audience, many, if not most, men, department store buyers who ogle with delight.

Yes, I too am guilty, and so are you, but who can resist the allure of the female form. Enjoy!

Designer: J. Mendel

 

Designer: Zang Toi

 

Designer: Milano Unica

 

Designer: Charlotte Ronson

 

Designer: Carlos Miele

 

Designer: Adam

 

Best of Both Worlds–a story

March 29, 2011 5 comments

Best of Both Worlds. Illustration by Andrea and Ale.

Best of Both Worlds

by Matthew Dyne

“Surprise!” Ginny yelled.

Sally startled awake from her nap in the sunshine, outside the pool house of her multimillion dollar mansion. She looked up, but her gaze drifted downward. I must be having a wet-dream, she thought.

“I brought two friends,” Ginny said. “I thought you might need cheering up.”

The cheering up referred to Sally’s husband dying. It wasn’t a tragedy—the man had been in his nineties, but he had been good to Sally, taking her in and becoming a bit of the father she never had and then, for the last two years of his life, her husband.

Sally didn’t regret trading two years of faithfulness for his fortune, and she didn’t do it out of greed. She could have cheated—he never would have known. He even expected that she would need to satisfy a young woman’s cravings he could no longer take care of. But he didn’t want her in bed with others. He would have been terribly jealous, and Sally knew that. So she was honorable and kept her part of the unspoken agreement inherent in their nuptial vows by taking care of her own needs, as best she could.

But Sally was a highly sexual young woman, and not having sex with anyone, except herself, made her terribly horny. Now that he was gone Sally’s desires no longer needed to be repressed, and they burst forth in full force.

Besides being highly sexual Sally was a bi-girl, but she had preferences of which Ginny was aware. That’s why when Ginny met her two friends, whom she hadn’t seen since high school, and when they came out to Ginny, confessing their secret and even asking Ginny to go to bed with them, Ginny realized they were perfect.

“I’d like you to meet Jill,” Ginny said, pulling on Jill’s penis, which caused her to rise on tiptoes and squeal. “And Jo,” Ginny said, pulling on Jo’s penis and getting a squeal from her, too. “Jo and Jill, meet my friend Sally.”

“Hi Sally,” the girls sang out.

Ginny pulled the girls along by their penises—she so enjoyed their feel—so hard and responsive. She was reluctant to let go.

Jo removed Ginny’s hand from her and Jill’s penises, for Jo wanted Sally, who was clearly fascinated, to see the two penises in their full glory.

“I’m sorry for staring,” Sally finally said, embarrassed by the two hard penises now close to and pointing at her. “I’ve heard about… but… I never…”

“It’s okay,” Jill said. “A friend of Ginny’s is a friend of ours, and we are, somewhat, unusual.”

“Somewhat?” Jo teased. Her penis bobbed as she turned toward Jill.

“I thought you wouldn’t mind throwing a party, just a little one, for the four of us,” Ginny said.

Jo and Jill looked at Sally and smiled demurely.

Sally couldn’t take her eyes from the stiff pokers—so masculine, yet, on the two beautiful young women, so inexplicably feminine, too.

“Sally hasn’t had sex in two years,” Ginny said.

Jo’s and Jill’s expressions turned to ones of concern. “Oh my,” Jo said.

Oh, you poor dear,” Jill gasped.

Sally blushed. She looked down again, and without thinking she blurted out, “You’re so big.”

“Thank you,” Jill and Jo said together.

“Mostly, Sally likes girls.” Ginny said.

“Yes,” Sally interrupted, “but I’m weak for a hard cock inside me. There’s nothing like the real thing, is there?” She looked longingly at the man sized tools jutting from just above the legs of the two most feminine creatures standing before her.

The three other girls agreed that there was nothing like the real thing, but Jill and Jo didn’t mean the same thing Sally meant. “That’s why we’re here” Jo said excitedly. Then, she said sadly, “We’ve never had the real thing. We’ve only had each other. We don’t own a vagina between us, and we’ve never tried one.”

“We’re virgins,” Jill said and giggled. “We asked Ginny to let us try hers, but she insisted you needed us more, and, well, if you wouldn’t mind, we were hoping…”

“Mind?” Sally exclaimed. She scooted over on hands and knees and rained kisses all over the two erect penises before her, and then she took each penis in her mouth and gave it a good sucking, which elicited gasps and made the girlish rods stand even more vertically.

“That feels great,” Jo said, “not that we’re inexperienced in that department.”

Amidst much gossip and laughter the four girls took off their clothing. They were all curves and waves, hills and dales—breasts, buttocks, hips, and thighs. There wasn’t a manly feature among them except for those two beautifully sculpted pokers standing at attention, waiting to perform their duty and take their pleasure.

“Sally and Jo first,” Ginny directed.

Sally assumed the doggie position and spread her legs. “Hurry,” she begged, thrusting her pelvis unambiguously, signaling that her needs had long been unsatisfied.

“I’ve never done this,” Jo said. “So, if I’m a little clumsy…”

“Just do what comes naturally,” Sally encouraged. “Vaginas are sensitive, but they don’t mind a bit of punishment.”

Sally was as wet as a rainforest, and Jo had no trouble finding her way in. “Ohhhh,” she screamed. “That feels soooo good.”

Sally gave Jo a couple of love squeezes, the kind that only a woman can give, and Jo took off like a mare pretending to be a stallion. She fucked Sally quickly. She fucked slowly. Sometimes she barely pushed in. Sometimes she probed deeply. She pumped hard, and she caressed, too, experimenting to find all the ways she could to give and get pleasure from Sally, her new girl-toy.

After awhile Jo took her penis out and asked Sally to turn over. Jo wanted to experience the missionary position, too. Sally turned over, and Jo was quick to put her penis back in. She tried different strokes and angles and listened to Sally’s sounds, paying attention to Sally’s feelings, and with kisses, nibbles, and words expressing love and contentment she teased, tickled, and thanked Sally for sharing her vagina that was freely flowing. A rivulet trickled between her buttocks.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Jo repeated in a rhythm set to the tempo of her fucking Sally.

Sally was in heaven—a nirvana of no consciousness—a realm of joy and abandon she wanted to stay in forever. She tried to hug Jo. She tried to touch Jo’s breasts and stroke her skin, but Sally couldn’t concentrate on anything but the flush of her arousal and her approaching orgasm. All was feeling—distilled, concentrated, throbbing and burning between her legs, high up in her, high behind, within, and around her clitoris that was so swollen it was about to burst…

And then it did burst, and Sally screamed her way into the best orgasm of her young life, her best orgasm ever, and Jo stopped pumping, her penis inserted as far as it could get into Sally. And then Jo rose up, rose up high, lifting Sally, lifting then lowering then lifting her again using the penis that was deep inside her, so that all the pressure of Sally’s weight concentrated behind her throbbing clit.

Sally never imagined an orgasm the likes of that which ripped through her—more than not a continuation of her previous climax. She shook from head to toe. Contractions vibrated through her body. And Jo, sensitive as ever, waited, her penis still lifting but not moving, while Sally’s orgasm ran its course.

***

Jo lowered Sally and lay on her softness and rested, her penis, still bone hard, still inside.

Sally moaned, and Jo, her face buried in Sally’s neck, kissed her new friend repeatedly.

Time passed. Sally recovered. “You come now,” she whispered to Jo, and she felt Jo shake her head Yes.

Jo rose again, and slowly and steadily, and then more quickly, demandingly, she built to a fever pitch, and thrusting deeply, moaning and gasping, sweat glistening to sheen her skin, she burst into an orgasm of her own. A flood of girl-juice pumped out of her and joined the liquids Sally had so generously supplied.

Then the girls, still joined, rolled over, and Sally rested on Jo as the girls touched each other and whispered their appreciation—Sally for the first love making she’d enjoyed in two years and the best ever, and Jo for the first vagina she had ever had the pleasure of entering.

***

“My turn,” Jill said.

“You be on the bottom,” Ginny said. “I’ll put you in me and show you some of the things I like.”

That sounds like fun,” Jill said, and she lay down.

Ginny straddled Jill and sank Jill’s extra hard penis deep inside. “Ahhhh,” Ginny gasped.

“Ohhhh,” Jill moaned.

“Ride ‘em cowgirl,” Ginny yelled and proceeded to fuck Jill wildly, milking the girl cum right out of her. Jill thrashed and screamed in ecstasy, while Ginny hung on for dear life, not for a second letting Jill’s engorged rod slip out.

When Jill was done the girls turned over and Jill, not to be outdone, pounded Ginny into a fine orgasm of her own, but she didn’t stop. Jill kept fucking Ginny hard and fast, and the girls travelled their second and third orgasms together, coming as if they were one hot girl in the throes of her own bliss. Ginny marveled at the ability of Jill and her girl penis to match Jill’s own insatiable appetite yet never get soft.

***

Jill and Jo were still hard as the four girls drank iced wine in a hot tub. “Multiple orgasms are as easy for us as for you,” Jill explained. “And we don’t get soft until we want to. I love my penis.”

“I love it too,” Ginny said. “Together we’ve got the best of both worlds.”

Sally and Jo agreed and decided to sleep together. Ginny and Jill decided to sleep together too.

A hot tub, my own wine cellar, a girl with a penis that’s always hard, sleeping in my bed… Life is perfect, Sally thought.

Jill and Jo thought, Vaginas are awesome.

Ginny thought, I love it when friends get together.

Breast Size Counts

March 12, 2011 12 comments

The site VoyeurWeb.com has been in operation for years. It allows people to submit nude photos of women, these photos are published, and viewers can vote on the pictures: poor, fair, good, very good, or superb.

The site also runs contests, such as INSTANT Tit Flash Photos, and the results are tabulated in a manner I’ll discuss.

I’ve look at porn from time to time, and occasionally on a video I hear a young woman lament that her breasts are too small. This always makes me sad, not just because I am especially turned on by small breasts, but because these women think they have to be big–something they are not–to be sexy.

An example of Extremely Big Breasts--from Voyeurweb.com.

I’ve known lots of men who prefer smaller breasts, and I’ve often wondered what the statistics really are. I realized that using VoueurWeb.com I might be able to quantify the appeal of, meaning being aroused by, breasts of different sizes. I performed an analysis, and the results are shown in the table below.

Very Small Small Medium Big Very Big Extremely Big
In top 42 by number of views 5 4 7 9 7 10
Million Views/pic 5.0 4.4 5.9 4.3 4.8 3.7
In top 63 by ranking 1 4 12 24 13 9
Top ranking 4.65 4.75

In VoyeurWeb’s tit flash photo section, pictures are categorized in different ways. One way is by number of views. Another is by ranking–1 to 5 corresponding to poor to superb. The above table lists breast size across the top and methods of analysis on the left.

First row: In the first row I took the top 42 pictures rated by number of views, and I list how many of these top number-of-views photos there were of each breast size. Based on this information one might be tempted to conclude that viewers were most attracted  to Extremely Big breasts. It might be, however, that curiosity, rather than interest, skewed these numbers. Similarly, the number for Very Small breasts might also not be an accurate representation of viewer arousal. Excluding Extremely Big and Very Small breasts, it seems that Big, Very Big, and Medium breasts are more appealing than Small breasts. However, using the method of the first row seems to be problematic.

Think the problem this way: Let’s imagine that there are many more women with large rather than small breasts. An extreme example would be 99 large breast photos for each small breast photo. Imagine that viewers are looking at photos randomly and selecting something that they like other than breast size, for example skin color. Assuming that large and small breasts have, on average, the same skin color, there would be 99 large breast selections for each small breast selection. Total number of selections (views), therefore, does not accurately reflect interest. It could reflect distribution of breast sizes in the population.

An example of Very Big Breasts--from Voyeurweb.com.

Second row: Instead of looking at breast appeal as characterized by the total number of views, I tabulate the average number of views per picture of a given breast size. In other words, if there are ten small breast pictures in the top 42 by number of views, then I add the numbers of views of these ten pictures and divide by ten to get an average.

The second row of my table shows that Medium Breasts are preferred. The average number of views of a medium breast photo (in the top 42) is 5.0 million. Very Small is second. Extremely Big is sixth.

An example of Big Breasts--from Voyeurweb.com.

Third row: For the third row I looked at ranking–Poor=1, Fair=2, Good=3, Very Good=4, and Superb=5. I took the top 63 photos, rated by ranking, and I list how many of each of these photos falls into each breast size category. Big, Very Big, and Medium breasts are ranked highest, but when I looked at the actual ranking number I found little difference. The highest ranked Big Breast photo had a ranking of 4.75, while the highest ranked Very Small Breast photo had a ranking of 4.65.

An example of Small Breasts--from Voyeurweb.com.

Conclusion: Medium breasts seem to be slightly more appealing, on average, but other than that there isn’t much difference. And anyway, we all have to play the hands we’re dealt. Use the tools you have and play well.

An example of Very Small Breasts--from Voyeurweb.com.

This analysis is offered with respect for all women, regardless of appearance. Good looking is a bonus. It’s nice that counts.

Girls Sleeping–Perchance to Dream

March 1, 2011 6 comments

To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep—
No more—and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep—
To sleep—perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub!
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil…


To Sleep Perchance to Dream

By Matthew Dyne

I come upon her, sleeping be,
Immersed in dreams of revelry
Her limbs are still, her eyelids twitch
She might be beggar, queen, or witch

I look high—look low—all around
Her raiment’s nowhere to be found
I did not seek to find her thus
My blessings, are they fate or luck?

Her breasts they rise as breaths she breathes
Her form’s as pretty as you please
Of all her gifts I would partake
Yet she’s too precious, for to wake

A Package

by Matthew Dyne

The postman knocked upon my door to say,
“I have a package, 8 stone plus it weighs.”
“But,” I said, “I did not order any.”
“Insured, fragile, worth a pretty penny.”

I frowned but helped him take it off his lorry
Wondering all the while, What’s the story?
I dragged it in to see what gifts I’d reaped
And found within a small girl fast asleep

Surely you can see me in a quandary
I double checked the package, it was for me
I did not to my common sense defer
Instead, shrug, I decided I would keep her

She would not wake but seemed to be at ease
Her cuddly form unclothed it sure did tease
I put her in my bedroom for safekeeping
In case she woke while I was deeply sleeping

I startled in the night and found her near
Her warmth upon me, breath against my ear
In time she did encourage me into her
And, made love as if I always knew her

When morning came she curled up in a chair
And slept again as if she’d ever be there
I washed and cared for her in every way
And through the years she did not age a day

Many girls I’d watched while deep in slumber

Alone…

In pairs…

In groups of many numbers

And though I’d watched them when perhaps I shouldn’t
I never touched a girl who said I couldn’t

The years have come and gone and I do fear
When I’m gone what happens to my dear?
I know a man he’s young, strong, and sweet hearted
And my love and I must soon be parted

I placed her in a new box, I was grim
And sadly I prepared to sneak her to him
But just before I was to see her never
She woke and whispered, “I love you forever.”