Chapter 3

Journal Entry June 21st (I just don’t find diary to be appropriate)

Today started with a trip to the public pool. As I remember, many of the other young women were wearing two-piece bikinis. I am not up to wearing something like that, yet. Instead, I wore a one-piece that mom helped me pick out (before I entered this body) that has a nice contrast to my darker skin tone. It’s a little high in the leg, but I can handle that. What I did not enjoy was the feeling of it pulling tight against my vulva. I had to adjust it almost as much as a guy adjusts his junk. I suppose I will get used to it.

On a side note to that, I’m happy that I had plenty of experience shaving as a male. I’ve shaved myself and a few women in my time. So, trimming up my bush to keep it from overflowing my swimsuit was reasonably straightforward. There’s no way in Hell that am I going to go bald. Some may have a preference for that, but I knew too many who complained about yeast infections. That, and a nurse I dated once told me that it’s better to trim short than to shave it all off because shaving can lead to yeast infections. So, I now have a nicely trimmed bush that I can run my fingers through.

At the pool, I was treated well enough. Though I have not lived in this body from birth, I find myself able to recall details about the people around me when needed. I know who my friends are, the people I have less than stellar relationships with, etc. That’s very helpful. I had been wondering how I was going to explain being unable to remember who anyone is. It would be odd as my family has lived here for a few years now.

There was one incident that had me blushing and furious at the same time. It involved a young male asshole who came up behind me underwater and grabbed my pussy. One the one hand, it’s not like being a guy and having your junk grabbed, which is all to open to attack. On the other hand, the feeling us an unwanted touch between my thighs like that was like being scalded.

My initial response was to blush a deep red, but that instantly turned into the red face of a furious woman. I may be darker-skinned, but I’m light enough to see me blush, and people noticed. However, what caused them to look my way was the scream of pain when I reached down, grabbed his fingers, dislocating two, and breaking one. When he started squealing in pain, the lifeguard on duty jumped in and made a beeline for us. By the time she reached us, I had let go of his hand and moved away with a furious look on my face. Long story short, he was taken to the ER by his friends to get his hand taken care of. I’m sure they called his parents, since he is a minor, like me, and they cannot do anything without their approval. I was questioned about what happened and was then asked to leave. Apparently, violence, even in self-defense, is not permitted.

I went home and called my mother at work to let her know what happened. She told me not to worry about it and that we would talk about it when she got home. What I really appreciated was that a male friend accompanied me on the ride home. He reminds me of myself as a young man. He’s cute, funny, and respectful. He’s also the kind of guy, as I was, who often gets tossed into the friend zone.

As we rode the three miles to my place, we talked and joked a bit and talked about what had happened. He was furious. Jacob, the guy who assaulted me at the pool, is known for doing such things. He gets away with it because of who is father is. Or, rather, they sweep it under the rug. I’m going to have to watch my back.

The craziest thing happened when he walked me up to my front door. We hugged, and I went to kiss him on the cheek, but he turned (I know it’s cliché), wanting to say something, and it ended up a sloppy first kiss. Instead of breaking it off and backing away, I pulled him tight against me and kissed him, nibbling on his lower lip and moaning. He was still wearing his swimming suit (board shorts, not speedos), so the woody he popped on my front porch was noticeable both visibly and against my abdomen. I couldn’t send him home sporting a hard-on, so I broke the kiss, opened my door, and pulled him in. He was surprised by my action but did not resist.

Inside, I got us both some water and we sat down at the kitchen table and talked for a while. He was trying to apologize for the unexpected kiss and for his response, which made me want to laugh, but I managed not to. I made it clear that I enjoyed the kiss and was not mad that his body responded naturally as it is meant to. He didn’t believe me at first, so I got up and straddled his lap, grabbed his head, and kissed him hard and deep while slowly grinding myself against his growing erection. If I had thought about what I was doing, I probably wouldn’t have, but my body had a mind of its own.