I had just set up an internet account with a local server, and I was exploring. I
tried all manner of searches just to learn how it all worked, and I was pleased
to suddenly find that there were very many adult oriented web pages, that led to
other adult oriented web pages.

Over the following four or five weeks, I continued to explore and I found some
that I really liked. It was at this point, that I decided to take the plunge, so
to speak. I looked for Lycos. Once I had it, I typed in the word "Transvestites"
and punched the button.

It took a few minutes, but then I had a list. I was astounded. I was not even
sure that I would find any, but there was over six hundred. I scrolled through
the pages, and one in particular excited me, catching my attention. It was for a
Usenet group.

I had learned enough to know that there were adult news groups, and I was really
excited to find one that showed up under the transvestite search.

I should explain that all of my life, right from my earliest moments, though I
tried hard to not ever let anyone else know about it, I had been a sissy. I mean,
I was a real sissy. Since the age of three, I would steal my sister's panties and
wear them under my boy clothes. Whenever I got he chance to be alone, even if it
was only for a couple of hours, I would put on a slip, dress, girl's socks and
shoes, and I would sit in my sister's room, playing with her pretty dolls,
feeling like I was bei

I loved feeling like a girl. I loved it when I wore dresses. Wearing dresses made
me feel petite, and dainty, and I loved those feelings. I loved the feel of soft
silky lingerie. I loved the feeling of being pretty. I knew that I passed easily
as a girl, because when I was fifteen, I worked up the courage, one weekend when
I had been left alone for the whole weekend, to put on some of my sister's
clothes, and to go for a walk around the block.

Everyone I passed, smiled at me, and I had such a deep thrill, knowing that
everyone who smiled at me, thought that they were smiling at a real girl. Passing
myself off as a real girl was the most thrilling thing that I had ever done. I
got so confident, that I went home, put on a dressier skirt, high heels and a
lovely white silk see through blouse that showed off the pretty lace on my slip,
and I walked down to the local teen hangout place.

No one, not even my best friend recognised me. I was in seventh heaven. Guys kept
hitting on me, and I found that I adored being the centre of their attentions. I
loved being treated like a girl, a popular girl. It was just like heaven. I loved
not having to pay for anything. This was really neat.

The next morning, after spending the night sleeping in my sister's bed, wearing
one of her night gown's, I worked up enough courage to dress up in a really
pretty white lace dress, and go to a church for the morning service. I can not
ever explain the joy that I felt as I sat in the pew, lace gloved hands folded on
my pretty lap, gently holding my white kid skin clutch purse. One of the young
guys even tried to put the move on me after the service.

Over the next few months, I had to come to a number of realisations.

One, I knew that I was only happy when I was wearing girl's clothes, or more
precisely, I was only happy when I felt like a girl. That meant that I would have
to find some kind of job that would allow me to wear girl's clothes, even if I
could not wear dresses at the job.

Two, I adored the way I felt, when boys tried to hit on me. I knew that this
probably was a good indication that I was gay. After all, not many normal guys
like wearing dresses and being hit on by guys. But I loved those experiences. So,
if I did not want to be alone in life, I would have to find a boy friend who
understood a girl like me, who would let me wear girl's clothes, and who would
want me to act like a girl all the time.

I was pretty sure that I could never find a girl who would like that. I would
have preferred to have a girl friend, because I adored girls. I guessed that this
was one of the reasons I wanted so much to be like a girl. I hoped that he would
be the kind of guy that got really turned on by a feminine girl with a it of boy
in her panties. In truth, the idea of being a girl with a bit of boy in my
panties was a very intoxicating idea to me.

Any way, to get on with the story. I loved being a chick, and chicks liked being
with guys, so I figured that I must like being with guys to. It made sense to me
anyway. I knew that I certainly had no problems with looking at guys, and
appreciating which ones were better looking than the other ones. I certainly
liked the way guys treated chicks, and they made me feel like a chick with the
way that they treated me when I was dressed up. I loved the way I felt when a guy
was coming on to me.

I just never had the courage though, to actually present myself to a guy, in my
feminine persona, so I actually ended up not having a boy friend or a girl
friend. I liked girls, really liked girls, but I figured that I liked being
treated like a girl by a guy, more than I would like being treated like a girl by
another girl.

At the time of this writing, I have turned 22 years old. I live in my own
apartment. I wear nothing but pretty lingers for under wear, and I keep myself
hairless. I wear girl's slacks and blouses a lot, actually most of the time when
they can pass for guy's clothes, because I always try to look like a regular guy,
so people will not make fun of me for being a fairy. I do not mind thinking of
myself as a fairy, I just do not want everyone else to think of me that way.

I have landed a really good job in the accounting department for a very large
chain of department stores. I love the job. I also love the fact that the job
requires me to travel a great deal. I like that. And when I do travel, I usually
travel wearing skirts or dresses, as I find them far more comfortable to wear
than tight restricting pants, on long drives. I get to spend most of my time in
women's clothes, this way.

Two

But, getting back to my story, by surfing the net, I found out about the alt sex
stories newsgroup. When I finally dared to punch the right buttons to get into

I explored the tg group, and was delighted to find a number of stories written by
people just like me, about the kinds of things that I was interested in. Then

I nearly screamed in excitement, as I pulled up the very last entry.

"Wanted by masculine man in late twenties, a very sissy TV wife. You will be a
person who is feminine, who prefers to wear pretty clothes all the time, pass in
public as a real woman, under 5' 9" tall and preferably not too fat. You must
also have a passive or submissive streak in your personality. You will prefer to
be my woman at all times, and act in a way that will make other guys jealous of
me, because of you. At home, you will be all woman at all times. If you think you
are such a girl, an

My hands shook as I wrote back a reply to his message. In it I explained what
kind of person that I was.

I did not hear from Stanley for nearly a week, a week in which I went nearly
crazy. When I did hear from him, I was astounded to find that he lived in a city
that was about an hour away from the small town that I lived in.

We wrote back and forth to each other, and I was honest, with him, I explained my
fears, and I got across to him the degree of my effeminate sissy nature. He
finally told me that I sounded like the kind of girl that he wanted to meet. He
made a date with me, gave me his address, and directions, and told me that he
expected for me to show up at his apartment the following Friday evening at 8, as
a girl.

I was so scared, as I readied myself. It so happened that I was working in that
city that day, so I would not have to worry about being fresh when I arrived at
his place. I rented a motel room. I was able to spend some quality time in my
lavender scented bath tub, and shave ever so carefully. I wanted to be a
completely hairless girl for Stanley.

I was on edge. I could hardly believe that I was finally going to meet what might
be the man of my dreams. How would I feel, I wondered if he wanted to kiss me?
How would I like it if he wanted to dance with me? What if her turned out to be
some kind of freak, who wanted to tie me up and beat on me? Did I really have the
courage to go to his house to meet him? I wondered if I would actually suck a
cock, if he asked me to.

I chose a pink chiffon dress that swirled noisily around my nyloned thighs in a
most delightful feminine fashion. The bodice was satin, and the top of it was
gauzy so that the bra and slip straps showed through it. I had loved this dress,
ever since I had gotten it, because it just seemed to be so completely feminine.
I had bought it in a second hand store, so I knew that a real woman had worn it
before I had gotten a chance to wear it. That sort of made me feel even more
womanly.

I wore pink satin under wear. One of the reasons why I had chosen that particular
dress was because of the way that the pretty skirt flared out. I did not want to
bind my cockette up, because I wanted to feel it pressing against the loose fit
of the one size too big soft satin panties, all night long. No matter how big and
hard I got, I would never be discovered, because of the way my skirt flared out.
Most of my skirts and dresses were this kind of style, for that very reason.

I wore pink lace gloves, and a pink leather clutch purse, with my essentials in
it. I put on silver earrings, finger rings, bracelets on my left wrist and a
delicate silver wrist watch on my right wrist. I loved the way they looked when I
would limp wristedly wave at my reflection in the mirror. Then I was ready.

I was terribly nervous as I drove, following his instructions. Soon, with only a
few minutes to spare, I parked in front of his apartment building. I felt so
frail, so vulnerable, and ever so feminine, as I got out of the car, and went
into the front lobby. I rang his buzzer, and was buzzed into the foyer. I found
the elevators, and was soon exiting at the 16th floor. I liked being so high up.
I knew that the view would be wonderful, if not romantic.

The door with the 1625 on it opened at my first light rap.

There he stood, Mr. Stanley. He was a good 5' 10" tall, thin but with a wide
muscular chest. He had a small well trimmed moustache and goatee. His eyes were
pale blue, and the pierced right into me. He made me feel very weak and exposed
to him. His bright white even teeth appeared as he looked me up and down, and he
smiled his welcome to me, stepping back from the door to let me enter. I knew
from the look in his eyes, that I was pleasing to him.

I walked in, and then turned to watch him close the door.

"Miss Johnson, I presume?" His smile thrilled me. He made me feel like a fly in a
spider's web, and it was nice.

"Mr. Morris?" I gracefully executed a curtsy, which brought a wide grin to his
face. I had often wanted to feel what it would be like to curtsy to a man, and I
knew now that I liked the feeling of submission that I sensed, as I plucked up
the hem of my skirt and bowed respectfully to him. I was acutely aware of the
role that I was firmly positioning myself in. This man could never think of me as
a real guy, not after such a pretty curtsy, I knew.

"Well my Miss Johnson, please come in and be seated, and be comfortable. I will
get you a nice glass of chilled white wine."

I went into the sunken living room, and gracefully smoothed out my skirt as I
sat, ankles crossed and knees together. I knew that I looked very pretty and
feminine. I hoped that he would think that I looked like a little prissy miss. I
placed my purse on my lap, enjoying the light pressure that its weight applied to
the satin panties that I was wearing. This man really turned my crank. I had a
real bad case of hard on, in my panties.

He came back into the living room, handed me a glass of wine, which I gratefully
accepted and began sipping, liking the light pink trace of my lip stick on the
edge of the glass. It was a medium dry, just exactly the way that I liked it. I
had not eaten, because I was too excited, and in seconds I was beginning to feel
a light buzz from the wine. It was nice.

We sat for a few moments, just enjoying the ambience and the wine, and I could
feel his eyes devouring every aspect of my demeanour. He made me feel very
feminine, and I loved it. I hoped that he liked me as much as I thought that he
liked me.

"So, you answered my advertisement, so you know that I am looking for a sissy TV
wife?"

"Yes sir..."

"Do you know what being my sissy TV wife would entail, Miss Johnson?"

"No. I don't... But I would like to know..?"

"Well, I would want you to take care of my housework, do my laundry, be a loving
and gentle companion to me, consoling me when I have had a rough day, and of
course, I would expect for you to sleep in my bed, and do all the wifely duties
that sleeping with a man entails. Have you ever slept with a man before?"

"No."

"I see. Have you ever sucked a cock before?"

"No."

"Well, then what makes you think you could like being a TV wife? I am not trying
to be critical, I am just curious about why you would respond to my ad. Please,
be as honest as you can be with me, okay honey?"

"Uhhh... I like being a girl, and girls like being with guys, so I figure that I
would like being with a guy to. You're ad really got me excited. I've been out in
public with guys, but none of them ever knew what was in my panties. I liked the
way that guys treated me, a lot more than the way they treated me as a guy.
Because I liked it so much, I thought that I might like to go a step further, and
see what it was like. The idea of living with a guy, while I am expected to wear
girl's clothes al

"So honey, you believe that you would like live a life of taking care of a
husband?"

"Yes. I think that I would."

"And, as my wife, you would sleep in my bed, and take care of me the way any
other wife takes care of her husband?"

"Yes. I think so... I don't really know, because I have never done anything like
this before, but I think so?"

"You would be expected to suck my cock whenever I asked you to? Could you handle
that, honey?"

"Yes. I think so? I do not really know, but I kind of like the idea?"

"You would let me fuck you whenever I wanted to?"

"I... I guess so? It is what wives do, eh?"

"Would you like it if I called you names, like sissy wife, or sexy girl boy?"

"I... I think that I would like it? I... I kind of like to hear things like that,
if it is not done in public?"

"Well, let's go out for dinner, and we can talk some more. Let's see how well you
conduct yourself in public as a beautiful woman. You are a very beautiful woman,
you know that Miss Johnson?" I blushed at his words, and I was too embarrassed to
thank him for his compliment.

And talk we did. We talked non stop throughout a very romantic dinner with
candles on the table and the works, in a very nice mood restaurant. It was kind
the kind place where you took someone that you really liked, whom you were trying
to seduce. I loved it. I was being seduced. He wanted me to become his wife, I
could tell.

There was a dance floor there to, and Stanley took me out onto the dance floor. I
had never danced with anyone before, let alone a good looking strong man, but it
did not take me very long to learn how to follow his lead, and to realise that I
loved dancing with him. Following him seemed to be so natural an act for me.

Then, near mid night, he took me back to his apartment. When we got in, he got me
some new wine, and he sat on the couch while I went to the bath room to refresh
my makeup. When I came out, he indicated that he wanted me to sit on his lap.

I felt so completely like a little girl, as I felt my soft bum cheeks encounter
his muscular thighs, and his rock hard cock. I was flattered that as a girl, I
could make him feel this way about me. I had never been so close to a man, in
such an intimate environment before, and it thrilled me. He made me feel so
feminine.

He kissed me for the first time, and I thought I would feint away, it felt so
wonderful to have his hard thin lips pressing against mine. I felt the
scratchiness of his beard stubble. I felt the strong muscles in his arms and his
shoulders, as he hugged me tightly against him. I felt the hardness in his chest.
I could feel his heart beating rapidly, and I knew that I excited him.

I could not help it as I relaxed deeply into his strong arms, and I knew for
certain that I could like guys the way that the real girls like guys. I could
certainly like Stan, as he asked me to call him. Yes, I mused, as I felt his lips
on mine, the first time I was ever kissed by a male, and it was very nice. It was
so different from being kissed by girls, and I loved it.

I felt so small, so weak, and so under his masculine spell, as he gently handled
me. I felt like he was treating me as though I were a fragile porcelain doll, and
I liked that. I let my arms move up, so that I could encircle his neck, to let
him know that I was accepting of him. It made me feel as though I had nothing to
protect my front against him. I was vulnerable to him, because I had raised my
arms to assume the age old gesture of a woman submitting to a man she loves.

Three

He kissed me very gently for a long time. I felt as though I were on a cloud of
pinked bliss. For the first time in my entire life, I felt that a strong male was
loving me. My father had never made me feel like that. I liked Stan, and I knew
that I liked him a lot. I felt his hips gently gyrating, pushing his erection up
into my beskirted bum. It seemed to not be big, but very hard.

I felt his tongue tip gently begin to explore my lips. It was terribly erotic,
and I enjoyed it for a few long minutes. I wondered what real girls did then. I
knew, instinctively, I knew that I should open my lips and there by give him an
invitation to further invade me, taking his control over me.

My lips were ever so sensitive. His tongue seemed to be so big. I parted my lips
in a submissive fashion, and I waited to see if he would enter my body. Soon, his
tongue was exploring my mouth, and submissively, I received him into me. I loved
it. He was so strong, and so assertive. He just seemed to assume that I was going
to accept him, and I did.



I knew only too well, that once I allowed myself to become a cock sucker, I could
never look in the mirror ever again, and not see a cock sucker looking back at
me. I wondered if I could do that. I realised though, much to my chagrin that I
wanted it to be that way. I wanted to experience everything that real girls got
to experience. That was why I wanted to be Stan's wife. I was not a fairy. I
wanted to be as much of a girl as I could ever be, without changing my sex. Being
a boy girl turned me

Stan let one of his hands gently move down to my left side, and he gently
caressed me, up and down my side. His hand felt so big and strong. His hand felt
so hot, right through my dress and lingerie. Stan was certainly masculine enough
for my tastes, and made me feel like a cherished girl.

After a long time of kissing me and caressing me like that, I felt Stan's hand
move down over my outer thigh and down to my knees. I could feel the roughness of
his skin as his fingers explored my nyloned knees. I felt his hand begin to move
upwards a bit, and involuntarily, I opened my legs, to receive his hand.

It took for ever, or so it seemed to me, for his hands to finally make their way
up past the tops of my nylons, to the crotch of my panties. I had dreamed over
and over again, about what it was going to feel like to have a man touch me,
while I was wearing panties. Now I knew.

I felt utterly under his control. His fingers felt like they were big enough to
break my little cockette right off, if he wanted to. I would have screamed in
joy, but for the tongue that was filling my mouth. I bucked on his knees, and he
knew how he was making me feel.

His fingers firstly moved up and down over my cockette, lightly tracing out the
shape and size of it. Then he did something that I had never thought that he
might do, but it drove me wild with passion. His fingers went down to the crotch
of my panties, where my vagina would have been, and he pressed up hard into me. I
went crazy. I could not believe how exciting, how totally effeminating and how
wonderfully intoxicating it was to have this man touch me right where girls get
touched by their love

When he sensed how I reacted, he pushed harder. I could do nothing but to spread
my legs as wide as I could, and let him invade my most private parts like that. I
felt absolutely helpless in his hands like that, and it was the most wonderful
feeling I had ever had. I nearly creamed in my panties, it was so wonderful.

Finally, he moved his fingers back to the front of my panties, and he grasped me
roughly. I felt so small in his hand. I felt the intimate girl material of my
panties being ground into the only boyhood that I had left to me. I could not
stop myself.

I sucked hard on his tongue as I screamed out my elation. I began to pump into
his hand, and I felt utterly out of control. It was the most wonderful orgasm
that I had ever had, and he milked me like I was his little girl. I felt like his
little girl. I felt like I had fallen in love with the man who seemed to get off
on treating me in exactly the way that I wanted to be treated.



I walked back to the living room, feeling so very exposed, as the slip rode
across my thighs and bum cheeks. Stan had refreshed our wine glasses. I did not
need an invitation, as I walked back over to him, and I sat down beside him, very
close beside him. A few quick sips and the wine glasses were empty again.

It was time for him to start kissing me again, which he did not hesitate to do.
He kissed me, wrapping his big arm around me, making me feel very small and weak,
which I liked feeling. After a while, I felt him grasp my right wrist in his
finger tips, and he guided my right hand over to the front of his pants.

For the very first time, I had my hand on the front of a real man's pants. I
could feel the big muscle throbbing under my hand. I felt the hardness of it. I
felt the heat of it.

He asked me if I liked his cock. I could not tell him a lie. I told him that I
did.

He told me that he would really like it if I would play with it for him. He asked
me if I would like to play with it, and I told him that I would like to do that.
He made me feel so utterly feminine, and he was going to let me do all the girl
like things that I had fantasised for my whole life about doing.

I watched him open his pants, and work his pants and under wear down over his
knees. He lay back, knees wide open. I looked at his cock, as I gently lay my
hand on his hairy right thigh. It was so ugly and big, that it scared me, and yet
at the same time, it fascinated me. I had an unbelievable urge to lean over and
kiss it for him. I resisted that urge though.

I moved my hand up, and I gently cupped his hairy balls. They were so big. They
seemed to be five times the size of the only balls that I was familiar with. I
was amazed, not to mention impressed with how big and heavy they were. I felt a
strange sense of pride to, because Stan was entrusting me with his family jewels,
as the old saying goes.

Then, for the first time in my life, I wrapped my fingers around a man's shaft. I
do not consider my own shaft to be a man's shaft, because I have never considered
myself to be a real boy, or a man. It was amazing to me. It was rock hard,
feeling like a metal pipe, and yet the skin that covered it was so satiny smooth.

I moved my hand up and down, masturbating this man who'd wanted me to become his
wife. I liked the way my hand looked around his shaft. I liked the way it felt. I
was flattered that as a girl, that I could make it so hard. I knew that it was
because I was such a feminine girl, that he was like this. I was really
flattered. If I had ever had any doubt about my ability to make a man react to
me, as a woman, the proof was in my hand that I should have no more doubts. Men
would like me.

I sat there, sort of half leaning over, with his arm wrapped around my shoulders,
and my head resting against his chest, while in a most fascinated fashion, I
watched my hand do what girl's hands do. I could not help but to feel sort of
privileged to be able to do what real girls got to do. Being a boy had denied me
this kind of experience before.

Stan whispered in a quiet but urgent voice, that he wanted me to kiss it for him.
Was I ready to do that? I had never done that before. I knew that if I did it,
that it would require more courage from inside of me than I had ever had to use
before. Did I have the courage to stop being who everyone thought that I was, and
to start being who I really was on the inside, namely a girl? My breathing was
very shallow, and I could sense rather than feel my fingers trembling. This was a
turning point mo

I looked up at Stan. I knew that I must look like a trusting little girl, but
that was the way that I felt. He smiled and asked me if I wanted to kiss it. He
told me that he did not want me to do anything that I did not want to do. He said
that he wanted me to make love to him, because my feminine soul wanted to make
love to him as my man, maybe even my husband, but not because he wanted to make
me do it against my will.

teddy bear, because he was so very gentle with me. I looked back down, and I soon
found that I was lowering my head. I could smell his strong man smell. I had
never smelled anything like that odor coming from me. I liked it. It made my
cockette start to grow again. I

I began by pursing my lips and leaned over, touching the cock head lightly with
my lips. That was how I started on my journey into complete effemination. In no
time though, I found myself brushing my lips all over the dry head, and I hoped
that he knew that I was feeling a desire to honour him for being a man when I
knew only too well, how impossible it was for someone like me to ever be a man
like Stanley. I admired him for his masculine nature, and I wanted to honour him
for it.

I kissed all over the head, and up and down the shaft. I continued to masturbate
him, wondering why he was not cumming all over my face. I suspect that I would
have liked the feeling of making him cum all over my face. When he told me to, I
even moved my head down so that I could kiss his balls for him. I was elated.
This is what the real girls did, and at long last, I was being allowed to do the
same things. I was being this man's girl. I rubbed his shaft all over my cheeks,
as my lips explored

Stan let me kiss his cock for him for about fifteen minutes or so. The more I did
it, the more I liked being allowed to do this intimate girl thing for him. I felt
utterly effeminated, and I loved the feeling. I knew in my mind now, that I could
never be a guy, not a real one, not like Stanley.

Stan gently patted me on the shoulders. I sat up and found myself wrapped in his
arms again, and his lips were pressing against mine again. I found myself melting
against him. I wanted for him to own me, to take control of me, to love me and to
take care of me.

He giggled, from deep in his throat, and he told me to excuse him for a few
minutes, as he needed to go and slip into something more comfortable. I giggled,
the irony of the statement was not lost on me. It was usually the lady who said
things like that. I giggled back at him, feeling very light headed and giddy. I
was finally getting to be a real girl.

He told me that what he wanted for me to do, was to relax, have another glass of
wine, to sit there, and to keep looking pretty till he got back. I grinned up at
him. I wanted to look pretty for him. Geeze, the way that he was treating me, I
wanted to do anything for him that he wanted me to do for him.

Four

He was gone about ten minutes. When Stan returned, he was wearing house slippers,
of brown leather, and a three quarter length dark brown silk robe, that had a
brown satin sash around the waste that was tied in a really big bow. I could see
clearly, that he had an erection under the robe. The robe tented out in an
unmistakable way. I blushed, but I also felt kind of flattered. It was me as a
girl who was making this man react to me, in this fashion.

He grinned lasciviously at me, making me feel like a fly in a spider web. He
walked over, very slowly and stood right in front of me. I had been sitting on
the edge of the couch, so when he stood in front of me like that, the tented part
of his robe lightly brushed against my face. I could smell him again. It was
nice.

I looked up at him. I had never felt so small and submissive before. He made me
feel utterly feminine.

"Honey, all nice things come in wrappings that have a nice big bow on it. If you
want your present, you have to untie the bow to get it."

I blushed. I did want it. He knew what was going on deep on the inside of me. I
felt so exposed to have someone seem to know me so completely. I reached up and
pulled at the sash. In a moment, the sash opened. His robe fell apart in the
front, revealing the big cock that I had been kissing just short minutes before.
I could still see traces of my lip stick all over it.

"Baby, this is the moment of truth for you. Are you a wifely kind of girl who
enjoys making love to her big stud husband, or are you not? You have to decide,
right now, honey."

He pressed forward a bit. He took his tool in his hand, and he gently rubbed it
all over my face, continuing to return the head of it to my lips, where I was
unable to resist kissing it for him. He made me feel like a real sissy girl, and
I tingled with the excitement of the feelings that coursed through my psyche.
Then he put the head of it on my lips, and he pressed lightly.

"Open your mouth, pretty honey. I want you to suck my cock, like a good pretty
fairy does for the man that she favours. Open up, and make love to your man,
honey."



I was still looking up at him. Receiving his cock into my mouth like that, made
me feel utterly girlish. I marvelled at how soft the hardness seemed. I felt it
pressing out against my cheeks, and I knew that he could see my cheeks bulging
out from his cock head. He stopped when he felt that he had reached the back of
my mouth. I had never felt my mouth being so full before. I loved it.

I began to move my tongue around, hardly daring to believe that I was actually
licking a cock that was filling my mouth. I felt my lips stretched. I felt the
bigness as it stretched my lips. I had never felt anything like that before. I
also felt strangely free. I was really free at long last, to be myself to, which
surprised me.

I liked everything about it. I liked knowing that at long last, I was really
having the courage to do what all the real girls got to do, and where expected to
do with their boy friends. I was being a real girl. I could feel almost every
stitch of my feminine clothing. I had never felt so alive, and so female before.
Stanley was making me face up to who I really was.

I licked at him and I knew that I was doing it lovingly, and then I started to
slowly pull my head back, then move it forward again. I was getting my face
fucked, just as though my mouth were a vagina, and it felt wonderful. I was being
all girl now.

Stanley let me suck him like that for about fifteen minutes. All the while, he
kept up a steady stream of comments and noises, about what I was doing, and how
good I was making him feel. Then he told me to get ready, because I was going to
make him cum.

I felt him actually swell even a bit more in my mouth, and I was not sure of what
to do. I pulled my head back,  so that just the head of his cock was still inside
of my mouth. I had always fantasised about what it would feel like to jack a man
off, inside of my mouth. Now, I had my chance to find out what it would feel
like. I did not know if I would ever have the courage to do this kind of thing
again, so I wanted to do it.

With my thumb on that ultra sensitive spot, just under the head of his cock, and
my left hand gently cupping his big balls, I made him cum into my mouth for me.
He spurted and spurted and spurted. He spurted so much, that my mouth filled, and
I had to swallow it, or risk having his cum spill out of my mouth, and all over
the front of my pretty dress. I did not want to risk messing up my dress.

to make their babies, and just like I was any other girl, Stanley had given all
of his to me. I was elated. I had really had the

Stanley was drained. As soon as he started to get soft, he took it out of my
mouth, and he sank to the couch beside me. He was very happy, judging from the
smile on his face. He held my hand for a long time, as we sat there like that.

I felt romanticised. I felt like I was on a pink cloud. I felt fully satisfied,
and intensely feminine. I had just pleased the man who might want me to be his
wife. I liked him. I liked the way he smelled. I liked the way he looked. I liked
the way he felt. I especially liked the way that he treated me. He made me feel
like I was his queen, with no puns intended. Stanley knew how to make a girl feel
like his special lady. He'd spared none of his charm on me, either. I was his
lady.

If he asked me to marry him, I knew that I would do it. The night was just about
over, I knew. It was time for me to go back home, to think about the way he had
treated me, and the way that he had made me feel. I wrote out my phone number for
him, and I got up to leave. He walked me to do the door, and he took me into his
arms for a prolonged good night kiss. I wondered if he could taste his own cum
from the inside of my mouth.

He told me that I was pretty, very feminine and lady like and as far as he was
concerned, that he thought that we could make a very nice couple. I told him that
I did not know him well enough to make that kind of commitment, but that I liked
him enough to see him again, if he wanted to see me again. He assured me that he
did want to see me again. I was happy.

When I stepped in the door back at my apartment, the phone was ringing.

"Hullo?"

"Debi?"

"Stanley. I did not expect to hear from you again so soon."

"Are you kidding. I can't think of anything else but how pretty and how feminine
you are. You are like a breath of fresh air to me. I just wanted to tell you that
I had a wonderful time tonight, and I hope that you want to see me again?"

"I had a lovely time to Stanley, and yes dear, I would like to see you again."

"Uhhh... I have this little party that I have to go to tomorrow night. It is not
a big thing, only about ten or so people. I would really like it if you came with
me. Uhhh... No one would know that you are not a girl, Debi, so I would like you
to dress pretty, but a bit on the conservative side. Would you like to go with
me?"

"I'd love to Stanley. I have just the perfect outfit to wear."

"Good. I want all the other studs to get a good gander of you, and envy the hell
out of me for being with you. I will pick you up at seven thirty sharp."

"Good night Stanley." I blew him a kiss over the phone line. I was elated as I
slipped into my nightie and crawled between my satin sheets. I'd been treated
like a girl, and I had acted like a girl, and now, Stanley wanted for me to be
introduced to his other friends, friends who would think that I was really a
woman. My spirit soared. I dared never to believe that I could ever be so happy.