A goddess up top, a beast down below — a milking party that transcends gender, held as the sun goes down. As dusk stains the streets red, I shed “him” and emerge as a girl. What's in the mirror is soft, full breasts and wet eyes. But under the skirt, something hot I can't hide keeps announcing itself with every pulse. “Hey... I know I'm dressed like this, but you haven't forgotten what's actually inside, have you?” I trace a fingertip over breasts bigger than I know what to do with. The skin feels like silk, entirely female — and what beats underneath it is the hard wedge meant to run you through. Every time you touch me there, my head goes white and my whole body jerks. It's arousal as a man and the pleasure of a body trained thoroughly as a woman, at the same time. “Ah — not there — I'm going to squirt!” When it goes past the limit, what spills from the tip is a drop of something like beautiful despair. Wet, obscene sounds, and I step straight over the line called gender. A sweet girl above, a rigid animal below. That crooked, perfect eroticism — I can hear your self-control snapping. “This hard thing of mine... do you hate it? Or do you want to wreck me more?” Sweet gasps and rough breathing cut through the quiet of the evening. Every time we press together the man in me resonates with the man in you, and we sink into the deep asking for a creampie. Neither of us is coming back from this. So let's love each other in this world beyond gender, right through until morning.