"It took me a long time to figure out why you like this kind of porn.
I mean, I can understand and accept the crossdressing, but when I found your porn stash… it was almost all over.
I mean, what does it mean to enjoy pictures of women humiliated like that, cum dripping down their faces, on their knees sucking hard cocks, naked. I mean, don’t you think blowjobs are gross?
When I saw those pictures, I put myself in those girls’ places and just thought about how angry and humiliated I’d feel.
But then… then it dawned on me.
You like to dress up like a girl.
Maybe you’re imagining you are a girl.
Maybe you’re imagining you’re those girls in the pictures!
Oh my gawd!
And suddenly... I realized that was kind of a turn on. The idea of turning my boyfriend into one of those kinds of girls.
We’re going to have so much fun."
Posts
5 comments:
Wow! This post got my wood rising. So much so I've been back for several looks already. What great pics.
I've only done a quick skim of a couple posts I missed. You've been one busy beaver wannabe. I look forward to really exploring them later. It's terrific work. I just hope I can keep up.
There's been no cocksucking talk lately. Nor any other sex talk for that matter. My GF's been acting pissy and pouty lately. I don't know if she's looking to precipitate a big blow up so she can break up, or she thinks I'll get horned up enough she can extract a cock sucking promise.
Don't these women know that even when they're "giving it up" regularly, we're still taking matters into our own hands at least once or twice a day? Maybe I ought to play along, go without and see. . . .
I love these photos and the thought of being submissive to a "real man" makes me very horny.
When did you first figure this out?
I had a brother six years older than me. No one was cooler. He knew everything. His word was law. He and his friends let me tag along most all the time. I was exposed to lots of things such a young kid just can't grasp. I saw my first “Playboy” when I was five years old. My brother had discovered our oldest brother's stash left behind when he joined the Navy. I didn't know why I got a “boner” when looking at those glossy pages. Labia weren't shown back then, so I had no idea that a woman's “pussy” wasn't hidden directly behind her pubic hair.
I really had no idea why a guy “fucked” a woman other than to make a baby, but it was made clear that “fucking” was a worthy aspiration for a man, but “good” people didn't do it. If they did, then why in movies were men always surprised when their wife was going to have a baby? Obviously, they hadn't “fucked.” The baby just happened because they were married. No kidding. At that precocious age I thought when I got married, I was going to “fuck” my wife to have a baby, and I was even going to tell my kids that I “fucked” their mother to have them!
I was probably six or seven one summer day, playing in the back yard with my best friend, a neighbor who was two years older than me. My brother was there too. We had an old flag pole in the back yard. With no reason other than it was there, I started climbing it as I probably had dozens if not hundreds of times before. As I got near the top, I'm uncertain what Steve actually said, but what I know I heard was, “my Dad says that climbing a pole is what a girl feels like.”
I don't know if it was pure coincidence. I don't know if it was the mere mention of a girl. I don't remember if I'd had an orgasm climbing that pole before. Whatever it was, I came! Did I ever. Oh my gosh it felt spectacular. As I humped that spectacular piece of steel, pleasure like I never knew before washed over me again and again.
My brother barked, “stop it! Get down!”
Having been sated, I probably didn't give the incident much immediate thought; however it wasn't long before I was hit with the compulsion to feel like a girl again. To say the least, I was confused--and jealous! Why did girls feel that way? Why didn't boys unless they climbed a pole? I tried assuaging my disappointment at being a boy by telling myself that if girls felt that way all the time they couldn't enjoy it. That was just “their normal.” I didn't believe it. Why couldn't I have been lucky enough to have been a girl?!?! I want to feel what a girl feels. I WANT TO BE A GIRL!
I must tell you all, making yourself feel like a girl by climbing poles is an inconsistent proposition. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. It isn't easy finding opportunities either when you must conceal your obsession from a plainly disapproving older brother. It had never been mentioned again, but his voice had told me everything I needed to know that day in the back yard. He was a man, and he wanted a tough little brother, not a sissy sister feeling like a girl. He made me be tough, and I was on the outside. Boys are better than girls at everything. I was a man. Someday I'd “fuck” girls and prove it. It was good to be a boy.
Inside I knew better. My brother was crazy. I knew what a girl feels like, and it was better than anything.
On a cold day many months later, I was at recess with the rest of Mrs. Pittsenburgers's second-grade class. The monitor blew her whistle ending play time. All the other kids began dutifully running toward the school, I however lustfully eyed the jungle gym and monkey bars. I knew better. I couldn't help myself. I started climbing.
I could see the other children racing away as I pulled myself up, then pressed the pole with my thighs, reached higher then pulled again. My little leg muscles strained to squeeze the pole. Kids were beginning to reach the school. The supervising teacher had turned with them, her arms spread like a mother hen shooing them toward the door.
Squeeze. Pull. Squeeze. Pull. I was at the top, and I knew it was going to happen this time. I was going to get to feel like a girl! Placing my hands over the top, I pushed myself up further, the end of the big staff tight between my legs. The teacher turned and looked back. One final squeeze, and I was flush with orgasm. My eyes stared at the matronly figure in her bulky coat. She blew her whistle and waved for me to come. I couldn't move!
The first wave was beginning to subside. I relaxed the tension just a bit then pressed again and a second wave poured over me. My gaze was transfixed on the teacher. She whistled and waved more urgently. I had never, EVER felt so good.
Then somehow I knew. She knew what I was doing. What I was feeling. I was to stop. Suddenly the connection was made. This was about my little pee pee, and I wasn't supposed to be doing this.
Unconsciously I had relaxed then tensed once more wracking both body and mind with this new conflict of guilt and pleasure.
The teacher knew. She wanted me to stop, but I couldn't. She would be angry. I should stop, but it felt so very good. Terrible shame was mixing with the pleasure. A woman was keenly aware I was enjoying my penis, telling me “no!” I was doing it anyway.
But she had stopped blowing her whistle. She wasn't waving anymore. She wasn't walking toward me. She was patiently waiting. Sharing the moment with me. Sharing my secret--our secret--girls' secret--I was enjoying feeling like a girl! She didn't disapprove. She wanted me to be “naughty!” In my naive fertile little imagination she was welcoming me into sisterhood. Welcome to the wonderful world of feeling like a girl!
The orgasm gone, I slid down the pole and hit the playground running. The shamed boy in me rushed head down past the recess monitor without a look. I couldn't. That little piece of me clinging to manhood wouldn't let me. She'd seen inside me. I knew she knew I knew, and she approved. What a smart little boy I was. It was better being a girl!!!
Wow Jamielin---THAT was a great little story!
Thanks for the note of appreciation, Sxytvinyl. Sort of thrilling to write. I've never truthfully told it before. I don't really know the etiquette. Comments and participation are invited, but how much astray is permissible? I feel a bit like I'm glomming onto PP's action to make an audience for myself. But I guess the maxim is, silence gives consent.
Sorry, Little Pantyboy. I posted a comment earlier under "You'd rather be them than Fuck them, Wouldn't You?" It described my GF pestering me to suck cock. But it seems like I've hardly seen her in the couple weeks since that's happened though.
She blew me off Wednesday, again yesterday and still hasn't returned my call today. I've been anything but disappointed though. It's been ages since I've explored this side of my sexuality. Discovering PP's blog's been an inspiration, and re-inspiration, over and over and over again! I've checked out some others too, but what can I say? PP's more vanilla pics hit me where I live.
Unlike the more dedicated, I've never been much of a dresser. It's just too disappointing to look in the mirror and see a man poorly dressed as a woman. Shoes and stockings of course are a different thing. You can look down, see them there and enhance a fantasy. Even so, I hadn't worn a pair of heels in months.
That all changed the last couple of days when I saw this post. I loved them all, but became absolutely infatuated with the last picture. The woman's silk clad legs, dainty feet and pretty shoes in the air. Her hand gently pulling her lover deeper inside her, eyes closed in blissful, erotic contentment. It so perfectly captures the vision of losing my virginity as my boy-pussy is penetrated for the first time.
Yesterday I had the chance to do it justice. I teased myself for hours staring at that picture. Aching to feel what she feels, know what she knows. Dreaming I was her. All the time, building courage one like me can only find in a full set of balls. Repeatedly edged and denied I could stand it no longer. I had to cum, but a reward like that demands a sacrifice.
I was going to bathe, shave, dress and go shopping for a treat. I had my heart set on a garter skirt like the last pic on “Thanks for Sharing the Shame, Fairies” posted by PP January 14th . I didn't hold much hope for finding one, but a gurl can dream, can't she? A hot oily bath got me started. Shaving took forEVER it had been so long. Finally it was done. All gone except a cute little patch above my cock. Don't we look so big freshly shaved?
I found some of GF's girly smelling deodorant in a drawer along with a few of her other things that have wound up at my place over time. I picked up a bottle of clear base coat and thought about doing my toenails. No, not this time, but I would pick up some nice pink polish while I was out.
I tucked my sore dick into a black g-string decorated with pink and white applique flowers and an innocent little pink bow at the small of the back. I pulled on my man jeans. Ohhhhh, they slide so deliciously up my freshly shaved legs. I'd forgotten about that! I'd forgotten too how emasculating a tucked dick was. The lack of a package is so obvious. A pair of white lace anklets and favorite heels finished my feminine apparel. It was so good feeling the womanish forward pelvis posture again with heels under foot. A simple t-shirt and I was set to go. Okay, it's cold so I had to pull on a coat too.
I tossed my man shoes in the trunk and got in the car. None of you actually thought a wuss like me was ready to wear heels in public, did you? Walking to the trunk and changing shoes in the parking lot is a “big chance” for me! I put the key in the ignition and sat back. I wanted to go, but I wanted to cum too. The erotic image of that woman--me--lying on my back making love was calling. I was so worked up, I wanted someone to see my secret. I was that little boy again. I really craved that connection. A woman's approval of my true desire to “feel like a girl.”
But my sexual urgency was getting the better of me. I argued with myself. Why do I need to get so worked up? Why do I need to blow my wad all in one shot so to speak? Enjoy it. Save some fun for later. The stores will still be there tomorrow.
On the office floor, man jeans and t-shirt wadded in a ball under my head, I strained to study the computer image on screen. Breathing my clean, fresh, peachy scent I approvingly compared myself. Glistening in the dim electronic glow, my smooth freshly oiled legs were drawn invitingly toward my breasts. Feet trimmed in lace, framed by the cute rounded-toe schoolgirl mary janes, pretty g-string left sexily dangling from one ankle, the illusion was as complete as I could make it.
I held out a long time. A very long time. I was lost in it. I alternated between brief moments admiring myself and melting into lengthy dreams as the woman with her man. There was no repulsion tonight. I embraced the thought of a whole man. I held him close. Felt his weight on me. Entwined my arms in his. Caressed his muscled frame. Coaxed him ever deeper with gentle nudges of my heels against his dimpled ass.
Finally I game myself permission and came in thick streams on my neck and chest. The girlgasm! Spread bent-legged is a completely different feeling than the straight-leg man position. I'd forgotten that too. The spell was breaking, but I was still glowing. After so long in the air, I eased my legs back to the floor with agonizingly wicked discomfort. I actually giggled aloud. What we girls endure for our men. Memories were coming back. Good memories. I'd missed this.
But there was something else too. What else was I forgetting. Oh yeah! The GF! Wouldn't this be a sight for her to walk in on? Shit! How am I going to explain this? Having shaved? What the hell was I thinking? Why did I do this?
As the old conflicts resurfaced, my fingertips were mindlessly caressing my chest and stomach, swirling around my nipples, tracing through the gobs of cum liquefying and beginning to slide down my body in halting drips. Aware, I instinctively brought my fingertips to my nostrils and inhaled deeply. A charge shot through me. I dipped more and touched it to my tongue.
Fuck! I can't worry about GF now. I'll worry about that tomorrow. Right now, there were more urgent matters. A man's never satisfied. Neither was I!
I never thought I'd have that much to say. I'll probably run out soon, but maybe it'd be better if I was doing this on my own blog instead of filling up PP's. It won't be exciting stuff like here though, but if "inquiring minds" really "want to know," you'll find out at http://ruination-of-jamielin.blogspot.com/
Post a Comment