I unbuttoned my denim jacket and allowed it to hang open, I wore no shirt and the cool air felt good on my bare skin. Dropping the key in my pocket I began my walk.It had rained yesterday and most of the night and as I trod the narrow path the clean morning air was laced with the smell of wet pine and moist soil, it refreshed and invigorated me. Trees and bushes quickly closed in, cutting off the world around me as I began hearing the voices of sparrows and jays in the surrounding wood as a bend in the path brought me in sight of a dense raspberry bush. This late in the summer the fruit was fully ripened and is one of the reasons I always make this fifty-five mile trip. The clean air, the smells, sights and sounds of the mountain along with the small slice of solitude are the others, allowing me to relax from the daily hustle and never ending cacophony of city life.Stopping by the bush I removed a linen pouch from my jacket pocket and began filling it with ripened berries. Resisting. "If you want to talk - " I don't," he said angrily, jerking his hand away.We walked in opposite directions down the hall to our respective rooms.I hoped to hear a knock on my door that night. Angry, Carlos might be,but he was also a passionate man who appreciated the thrills that onlya transsexual could offer him. The fact that the knock never cameunderscored just how perturbed he must have been.The next morning, the scene of the previous evening repeated itself,with Carlos demanding that I tuck my cock and balls between my legslike a whipped dog and my insisting that I would never again be a"photo eunuch." He'd have to accept me just the way I am.Finally, he saw that I meant what I said, and he filmed me in anassortment of bikinis and in various poses. I wore a hot-pink stringbikini, sitting on the beach, the waves rushing around my ass andthighs, with my hands flat on the sand and my back arched. I wore a redsuit, sat atop a mound of rocks, with the sea crashing around and belowme.
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