The Giver and the Gifts

Men sensitive enough to see will know The holiness of breasts, for the haloes Of their pink areolas clearly show The glory upon them which God bestows, But 'tis a blind fool who mistakes the breasts For the fullness of feminine beauty, Fav'ring them, while excluding all the rest, Though her other charms may be more lovely, Especially when she's transsexual, And the dainty ornaments of penis And testicles, completing her, make full The bounty of her beauty and the bliss She has in store for those men who want more Than either sex, by itself, can explore.

"I'm neither 'a blind fool' nor an insensitive jerk," Brad told me. "I believe in God, and I believe he made you, just the way you are, as he has made me, just the way I am."

Surprised by his declaration, I nearly choked. "You mean you're attracted to me, despite my being a transsexual?"

"No."

My lips trembled, and the tears flowed again, warming and wetting my cheeks. A great grief welled within me, and I wanted to die.

"Not 'despite' them," Brad corrected me. "Because of them."

I turned to him, joy upon my face, and hugged him, the best I could, across the console that separated our bucket seats.

"I've waited all my life for someone like you," he told me, and I kissed his cheek. "No," he corrected himself, "not someone like you--you yourself."

I was crying again, but, this time, my tears were tears of joy, not of misery, and I did nothing to repress the sobs of joy. Sister Susie, I said to myself, this time, you are wrong!

Brad frowned. "You're crying! What's wrong?"

"They're tears of joy, Brad, not sorrow or pain. I want you, here and now. I want you as I've never wanted anyone else before. I want you to take me, to ravish me, to own me."

Brad smiled, and his teeth, white and even in the moonlight, were dazzling--or maybe it was his smile that dazzled me and the look of love in his warm, soft eyes. "Me, too," he assured me, "but it's kind of cramped in here."