By themselves, women are incomplete, as are men. Both are beautiful, but neither is perfect. Only when breasts and vaginas and female buttocks are combined with cocks and balls do we attain true excellence and wholeness. The merger of men--of masculinity--and of women--of femininity--that occurs during sex is but a brief and imperfect illustration of the permanent and perfect union of the sexes--and genders--that occurs in the transsexual. The shemale is the epitome and the personification of ideal humanity made flesh. That's why there has to be a little man in my woman and a little woman in my man. I don't make love to men or women. I offer myself only to others of my kind, the perfect ones, the shemales. After all, as I said, I love womanly charms, but, above all, I am a connoisseur of cocks, and no woman, no matter how lovely, can offer a prick and a pair of balls to her lover. These special treats must be provided only by the third sex, the shemale sex.
It is their cocks and balls, by the hundreds and thousands, that fill my bulging photo albums, and it is their cocks and balls, by the scores, that stand, as dildos, upon my mantelpiece and shelves. It is their genitals, whether in the flesh, in latex, in plastic, or in bronze, that fill my mouth and ass and delight my soul.
