All For The Love of Becoming a Girl

by Robyn Smith

 

I grew up, spending nearly all of my formative years, in a small city of 48,000, in the Midwestern United States. It was a quiet town, one that offered very little in the area of recreation for young children and adolescents. Although at that time in history, 1950's and 60's, most small Midwestern US cities and towns were pretty much the same way. Aside from the local swimming pool, where I worked during my High School years as a lifeguard, and a couple of run down movie houses, the kids in that town had nothing more than their imaginations, their bicycles, and their friends, to provide them with that much needed entertainment.

This particular town was built in the middle of farm country and, as a result, did have an added advantage of providing the kids with both rural and urban experiences. It used to be a lot of fun, riding our bicycles just a few blocks, to watch a cow give birth, to watch the farmers getting their milk or even bringing in their crops of corn or soy beans. We had a chance to browse through a reasonable small town museum, but that got real old, real quick (No pun intended). We even had three factories in town that were able to make rather significant contributions to the military, both during and after the second world war. One, manufactured ball bearings, one automotive products and the other was heavily into electronics and communications.

I was also born shortly after World War II and, as you know, during that war it had become quite common for women to find work in some of the local factories, in order to support the war effort, and to free the men for service in the military. Consequently, a lot of these women had continued their work in these factories, and became forerunners in our society's evolution to the present day practices, where kids are either left at home, or in the care of a sitter, on almost a daily basis. They were the forerunners of the latchkey era. Fortunately for my brother and I, most of the baby sitting we encountered was provided by my Grandmother, a strict disciplinarian who was also a firm believer in the old adage of "Spare the Rod and Spoil the Child." Believe me, her sparing of the rod was well tempered, and my brother and I were not the least bit spoiled, or at least we didn't think so.

Occasionally, when my Grandmother could not sit for us, we would be stuck with, shall we say, a less than attentive or even immature sitter. This allowed time for us to get into all kinds of mischief. As my brother and I began getting older, our circle of friends began taking on new dimensions, as his circle led him to spend more and more time away from the house, out riding bicycles and playing tag. Being even a year younger than him, I was naturally excluded from that circle.

That left me in a situation in which I had a limited circle of friends I had developed (or failed to develop). I had very few friends and as such, I had a great deal of time to myself. I preferred it that way. Instead of finding new friends, I elected to spend this time exploring and finding new adventures, as well as dreaming.

I never really understood my dreams back then, but still found them to be quite pleasant, none the less. These dreams normally found me either flying through the neighborhood like a bird, running faster than a locomotive, or even attending Easter Church services in a very pretty dress and bonnet.

A good portion of my time was spent either alone in my bedroom, or in the generous crawl space under our house. Quite often I would begin by exploring Mom and Dad's closet and dresser, then retiring to one of my secret places, to play dress up. Of course these "Dress Up" sessions were always in Mom's things. What I chose to experiment with of Mom's would usually consist of girdles, panties and dresses. Of course, at that age literally everything I tried on would be large enough it would immediately fall to my knees, but it still felt special, in a weird sort of way. At that age I had a hard time trying to figure out what those damned "Bra" things were really for. They just looked like some sort of weird contraption meant to play mind games with people like me. I was fortunate enough to never get caught.

I say fortunate because, back then, society had very little, if any, tolerance for this type of behavior, even from a kid at Halloween. Mom and Dad's beliefs weren't that much different from society's either. However, this was still how I had secretly chosen to live my childhood, all the way up through Junior High and into High School.

High School, back in the early sixties, had become for me, still a time for dreaming, dating and experimenting. During my younger years, and as an extension of my habit of experimenting in my mother's things, I had grown to the point of being able to understand and relate to the girls around me much better than I did with the boys. I never put too much thought into it, I just accepted it, as a normal progression of learning, to be experienced in childhood. There were no titles that I was aware of for this type of behavior, to me it's just the way things were. I grew up knowing that I was "different" or even "special", I just didn't know what it meant.

On top of these experimental activities that I took part in, I also found that I seemed to have an easier time in school than most of the other boys, especially learning new material. In spelling, all I had to do was glance at the spelling list for a few seconds, then even weeks later, I could still ace the spelling test. In math and science, I had gotten to the point that I could challenge the teachers, and quickly solve most of the problems in my head, without resorting to the use of pencil and paper.

In typing class, I had become the second fastest typist in the class, which at that time was still considered a "Girl's Class", unless you were going to college. When I elected to take a Shorthand class, rather than the typical Notehand class being taught for college bound students, people began making fun of me. I also ranked at the top of my shorthand class as well. Being the only "lefty" in the school also proved to me, just how special I was.

I finally grew up, and was well into my junior year of High School and on my way. I even had my driver's license by then to prove that I was all grown up now, and ready to take on the world. I got that when I reached the magical age of 15 ½.. To make life even more enjoyable, as a grown up, I also had two girl friends. They both knew about the other, but didn't object, because we had not entered into any formal agreements. With no agreements, either formal or otherwise, there seemed to be no obvious reason for me to say goodbye to either one of them. After all, since I was so special, I felt the social norms didn't really apply to me anyway.

I had decided to keep both of these girl friends, because each had their own special appeal to me. Each one was able to fulfill different needs at the time. The first one, Carol, was quite reserved, quite pretty, and very careful to remain proper and lady like at all times. Carol had body measurements that most girls would literally die for 36-25-36. The second one, Daphne, was quite a bit more outgoing, typical tomboy and a little on the wild side.

Daphne was also very pretty. However she also possessed a personality that was a lot more bubbly and outgoing. When she grew out of the tomboy period - into full fledged womanhood, she took the time to do her make up and attire with even more feminine accents. Even without all the make-up and glitter, she too could have given almost any beauty queen a run for the title. Even after High School had fallen into our personal history archives, she would still go with my Grandfather and me on hunting and fishing trips. She was still enough of a Tomboy, that she would do almost anything I asked, or dared her to do, and almost anything that either her or I found to be enjoyable.

Being only a year behind me in school, Daphne was almost like the twin sister I never had. About six months into our relationship, at the tender age of 16, the subject of having sisters came up in one of our many conversations, and ended with Daphne and I both openly wishing that we each had a twin sister. Daphne commented that she would love to have a twin sister that she could have shared everything with, including clothes. I also remember mumbling to her, that I had always wanted the same thing. One comment I fondly recall, was when Daphne mentioned that she wished her sister could also have a personality like mine, caring, loving and honest.

Daphne and I loved each other, but not with the kind of love that either of us, honestly, felt would normally lead to marriage. It was more of a best friend, or even a brother - sister type of love, one in which we would do whatever we could to care for and meet each others needs and desires, without attaching any artificial strings. We did things for and to each other, strictly because we knew that the other one either enjoyed or needed these things done, seldom for our own satisfaction. We were much more satisfied with knowing that we had made the each other happy.

I dated Carol, primarily, as a potentially serious relationship in the making. I saw her, at the time, as being an almost perfect choice for both my future wife, and the future mother of my children. Daphne, on the other hand, was a logical excuse for me to let my long shoulder length hair down occasionally, and be the hot-blooded teenager I saw in myself. With her, I could ignore most of the artificial inhibitions that society had attempted to instill in us.

On more than one occasion, I would be driving around the local countryside with her, and suddenly find her reaching over to unzip my trousers, then subject me to her choice of manual or oral pleasures. Daphne and I loved being able to pick on each other almost relentlessly. During these picking sessions, there was literally nothing that was off limits.

On one particular evening, Daphne and I had her house to ourselves, as she got ready for our night out. As she did, I casually asked her quite bluntly, how it felt to wear pantyhose and a girdle - and if she really liked wearing them. She explained that they made her feel a lot more sensual, then, displaying one of her more sexy grins, calmly suggested I try it. I ended up spending the remainder of that evening, not only in her panties, pantyhose and a girdle, but also in a bra and camisole - just so I could experience the feeling first hand. The only reason I got into a pair of her panties was that I normally wore boxers, and we found that boxers are not too conducive to being trapped inside a girdle and a pair of pantyhose.

It was also with Daphne that I had some of my most unique experiences. I often wonder if I would have been better off targeting her for the future wife and mother role, instead of Carol? I have wondered if perhaps, we had misread the type and intensity of love that we felt towards each other. The progression of events one summer seems to indicate so. That was the summer between my 17^th and 18^th years in the world. Being best friends with Daphne turned into one of my own personal sources of very deep pride.

Daphne had a part time job, through one of the school's work programs, at a local 'Women's' clothing store. She had done so well with the job, that she had actually worked herself up to a position of being one of the junior buyers for women's wear. Her position, as junior buyer, was one that she was able to exploit to a small extent, and involved travelling to Chicago and Indianapolis for some of the clothing industry trade shows. There, she was able to speak with some of the designers, clothing distributor's and their middlemen, and occasionally even take home a few free samples. Her job would be to make recommendations for the senior buyers to act on accordingly. These recommendations served to give the store a valuable source of information as to what did and did not appeal to our generation.

During that particular summer, things happened that were destined to change my life forever. I had a date with Daphne one Friday night, in mid 1964. We had made plans to go to a drive-in movie, as usual. I was to pick her up after work that afternoon, then head out for a fun filled evening. However, when I picked her up at work, she mentioned that she had gotten into something at the store, soiled her dress, and needed to go home to get cleaned up a bit, and change clothes, before our date, so I took her home.

On the way to her house, she mentioned that her parents were out of town for a couple of days, and that she and her cousin, Terri, were fending for themselves in the mean time. Terri lived with them and was two years older than Daphne, and a year and a half older than me. I considered Terri to also be a personal friend of mine, even though I only saw her when I was with Daphne. Terri was supposed to have a date of her own that evening, which meant that Daphne and I should have the house pretty much to ourselves once again, just in case we changed our minds about the movie.

As luck would have it, this was not to be the case. When we got to Daphne's house, we found that Terri was also at home, and was entertaining her boyfriend in the living room. Terri and her boy friend appeared to already be well into their own adventures for the evening, because Terri was down to wearing only her bra and panties, and he was clear down to his jockeys. Needless to say, we didn't spend any time at all trying to open a conversation with them, we just quietly walked on by, and went directly to Daphne's bedroom.

Once in her bedroom, Daphne opened her closet doors and asked me to look through her things, then pick out something that I liked, while she ran through the shower and began getting cleaned up. As a result of these business contacts of hers, she had built up a wardrobe that would make most people green with envy.

I got into this overwhelming task with extreme eagerness, as Daphne began stripping off her work clothes, all the way down to her panties and bra. And yes, by this time I had learned what the bra was for, it was to drive boys like me insane, it had to have been designed by either some complete idiot, to hide the beauty of female anatomy, or a sheer genius, to accent the female anatomy. Even though I was distracted by this blatant display of sexuality standing in front of me, I eagerly got into my assigned task.

With one eye, I plied through her closet, with the other I eagerly watched as she removed her dress, then began to slowly peel off her pantyhose. Soon she was down to only her bra and panties, both of which were discarded in what seemed to me to be hours, rather than mere seconds. Then she quickly turned, grabbed a towel and wrapped herself deep within it. I fondly remember blushing as she stood, watching my reaction to her activities, and smiling her most sexy smile.

I eventually settled on a rather pretty and sexy dress that had a rather conservative neckline, a really snug fitting bodice, and big puffy shoulders, tapering down into long, snug fitting sleeves. It also had a full skirt that would make access to my nightly target a lot easier at the drive-in. I loved the idea of the full skirt, mainly because I was a lot more interested in gaining unrestricted access to the area between her legs, than I was directly below her shoulders. Like hey, I was still a normal kid with hormones, OK? By the time I had finished making my choice, she was already down the hall and in the shower.

I laid out the dress I had chosen, on the foot of her bed, then cautiously followed her into the bathroom. Through the closed shower curtain, I rather bluntly asked her what she had planned on putting on under the dress to complete the outfit. She didn't hesitate, she simply told me that I was free to go through her dresser drawers, and closet, and choose whatever I found interesting, and was in the mood for.

Given an opportunity like this, to freely delve into a woman's private world of silk and lace, I literally ran to her dresser, then opened and rummaged through every drawer I could find. I finally pulled out a hot pink lace bra, matching panties, a full length black slip with a really pretty little rose at the top, a girdle and a pair of fishnet pantyhose, which I put on top of the dress. For some odd reason I didn't see her crotchless panties during my rummaging.

As I rummaged through her things, I suddenly remembered the one night earlier, when I had ended up wearing her underwear. I began thinking that it might be a lot of fun, if I could find some way of having her suggest a repeat performance. I began racking my brain, trying to figure out a reasonable plan of attack to make that come about.

While I was trying to come up with a plan, I also made sure that the girdle I chose had long legs that would come almost half way down to her knees. It had a split crotch that I should be able to operate through, in order to add an interesting twist to the fun and games ahead. Daphne obviously didn't need a girdle, but the idea of trying to work through one like this really had me turned on, almost to the point of losing control then and there. I had already learned that girdles normally came with the wearer's choice of either a split crotch or with snaps, or hook and eye closures. I had learned this through my catalogue browsing.

The idea of being able to completely open the bottom of the girdle just didn't seem to be as daring, or offer as much of a challenge, as the split crotch did. Consequently, if I had not been able to find a split crotch girdle, I probably would have skipped it altogether. I hadn't even thought ahead, to the obstacles that would result with a combination of the split crotch and solid pantyhose panel.

Daphne seemed to be quite pleased with my choice of clothing items, as she came back into the bedroom from the shower, but really gave me one of her most devilish grins, when she noticed my condition.

During my rummaging through her dresser drawers, I also found a drawer that held unbelievable treasures. It was the drawer in which she kept her sexiest nightgowns. While she was showering, I nervously pulled out one of the most exquisite gowns I could find, then got completely undressed. I also found a black lacy bra that I put on and quickly stuffed the cups with rolled up panties and pantyhose. I then slipped into a clean pair of her panties, as well as the pantyhose she had taken off earlier. I carefully folded my own clothes, stacked them on a chair, with my underwear on top, then crawled into her bed, under the covers, to wait. Actually I was sitting at the head of the bed with the sheet and blanket pulled up only to my waist, in order to really show off my new bust line.

When Daphne had finished her shower, she came back into the bedroom to find me, sitting in her bed, wearing her nightgown, waiting patiently for her. I had already given up on my efforts of fondling her clothes because that activity was driving me to the sexual point of no return, and for what I had planned, I needed to maintain control for as long as I could.

When she returned, she was wearing only a towel, and was getting me more and more interested and unable to stand, without showing a very exaggerated visual indication of my highly aroused condition. Her towel just barely covered the area from just under her arms to maybe an inch or so below her hips.

I found before too long that I didn't really need too active of an imagination either, She had managed to provide just enough activity to keep my eyes riveted directly on her body. The towel only served to further heighten my awareness of what she wasn't wearing. If she moved just right, I could catch just the slightest glimpse of the object of my desires, and my imagination would quickly leap into high gear, with great anticipation of what the night promised to hold in store. As she continued toying with my state of sexual arousal, I could only, in my wildest dreams, imagine what was in store for the two of us.

I had reached such a state of arousal that I felt that the front of my nightgown was beginning to take on the shape of a full-fledged circus tent, including all three rings. Never in my life, before or after that night, have I ever been able to achieve such arousal. Had that evening ended for us right then and there, I still would have gone home extremely happy. I just wouldn't have been sexually satisfied, until I was in the privacy of my own bed.

Seeing me – In her nightgown, all of my regular clothes, with underwear on top, stacked neatly on the chair, and her still wearing only the towel, Daphne only smiled. She then walked over to her dressing table and sat down to begin working at putting on her make up. She kept on taunting and teasing me all the while.

She knew what affect she was having on my libido, and she also loved to torture me like this. She even "accidentally" let the towel fall a couple of times, just to see what kind of reaction she could get, although she was also being very careful to allow me to see only a hint of her shapely silhouette, before casually covering up again.

I bided my time with idle conversation, until she was done with her make up and hair. I was determined not to make any move at all, without first trying to think it through, in order to get the best results possible.

I watched patiently, as she began applying the foundation, then proceeded to the powder, the rouge, the eyeliner, the mascara, and finally the lipstick. With each new item, she would carefully explain to me, what it was for and how it should be properly applied. She said she wanted me to be aware of just what "us girls" had to go through for the men in our lives. Each and every movement she made was being carefully orchestrated, to provide as much sensual stimulation as she could possibly get, nothing obviously fake, but still carefully executed. By the time she started on her hair, I was almost to the point of jumping her body without any further hesitation.

Once she was ready to finish getting dressed again, she walked over to the closet and began to close the door, in order to have more room to move around. That's when I decided to make what I considered to be a rather novel move on my part, and allow myself an opportunity to pick on her, as payback for all of the teasing she was doing to me. I also found myself suggesting far more than I had originally planned.

I thought that I had come up with a rather tactful way to get both of us naked, rather than just crudely standing up, ripping my nightgown off, and asking her if she was ready for it then and there. Even though she was already in the condition I wanted her in, I had desperately racked my brain to figure out what I could do to get myself in that same nude condition, tactfully. This, in spite of the fact that I was already half way there, wearing her panties, pantyhose and nightgown.

As she closed the closet door, and began reaching for the clothes I had laid out at the foot of the bed, I very shyly asked her if she really thought these things would fit properly or not? It became obvious to me that our planned outing was already evolving into an evening of role playing that most people are never fortunate enough to experience. I didn't want to see it just come to an abrupt end.

I went on to say that, I had understood that she was going to pick out another outfit to get into, so that we could go out. I had reasoned to myself, that she had said that when she suggested I could choose any of her outfits, and underwear, that "I" liked, she hadn't actually said that I was picking it for her to wear. I also pointed out that I was concerned about the "fit", because, even though we were pretty close to being the same size, I didn't really have a pair of well developed breasts to work with, like she did. She had given me the opening with the way she worded her earlier requests, and I jumped in feet first.

At first, she didn't say anything. She just gave me a puzzled look, then looked down at the dress and underwear I had put on the bed, then at my clothes still stacked neatly on the chair, then back at me, and just began to say something when I interrupted her with another comment. I told her, "I understood you to say you wanted me to pick out an outfit I liked, and that you would pick out one of your own?"

As she stood there, her expression began to change from puzzled to mischievous. She began smiling, then slowly began laughing. I knew then, that the seed I had planted, through my new attire, and my carefully worded question, had taken hold and was beginning to take root and blossom in her imagination as well. I had managed to stir an excitement within her that I had never seen before. One that held promise of long-lasting memories for the both of us. One that held the promise of turning into something much greater than either of us could have imagined at that point in time. One that would enable us to build our relationship into something neither of us had expected, but both of us had secretly dreamed. I knew from her expression that I would once again be going out wearing her undergarments.

As she continued to laugh, and try to figure out what was going on, all of the movement was enough to cause her towel to pop loose, then gravity took over and the towel ended up in a pile around her feet. She just stood there for a couple of minutes, totally naked, laughing her head off. I could see from her expression, that she was cooking up something in the back of her mind, I just couldn't tell what it was.

Aside from the laughter, she didn't say anything else. She just laughed, then turned to the dresser and pulled out more undergarments and put them on. She spent a bit of extra time in her panty drawer and surprised me even more, by pulling out the pair of crotchless panties that I had missed earlier. These hot-pink, lace covered panties were accompanied by a matching bra, a half slip and a pair of thigh high nylons and garter.

I was a bit awe struck to see how the garter and nylons framed and even accented her panties. I also noticed that, even though the panties were crotchless, the lace trim hid that fact at first glance. Only when she moved just right, did her panty crotch open, but even then the opening was ever so slight. I was extremely pleased with her choice of panties and garter belt, because they would allow even better access than the girdle I had chosen earlier, and still provide an extremely erotic touch.

She then went back to the closet and picked out another dress, similar to, and complementing, the one that I had chosen. As she finished putting that on, I rolled over, with the greatest of anticipation, making sure to cover myself as I did, trying to hide my condition. Thinking we were going to get ready to leave for the drive-in, I began walking towards the chair that held my clothes, and asked if she was ready. Her next comment caught me a bit off guard. She looked me straight in the eye and said, "Yes Dear, I'm ready, but you obviously, are not. OK 'Sis', now it's your turn to bathe and get ready."

At first, even though I had intentionally baited her into this, her comment still went over my head and it took a while before the "Sis" part of her comment actually registered. As a matter of fact, that didn't register until we were well into our evening activity preparations. All I could do was give her a puzzled look in return.

She responded by walking over to me, and began to skillfully remove the clothes I was wearing, one item at a time. She slowly removed my nightgown, complimenting me on my choice of bra, panties and pantyhose, as they too were slowly revealed. She then started on my pantyhose, being careful to make sure my panties stayed in place.

With an erotic grin coming across her face, she finally removed my panties too, leaving me totally exposed and easy prey to her desires. Each item that she removed would be replaced with a series of very light finger tip caresses, and even a light kiss or two. That, plus the combination of her perfume, was almost too much for me to handle, But as I struggled even harder for control, I was also cherishing every second of this series of events.

All I could do was to stand there, enjoy what was happening, and what I thought was going to quickly turn into a lingering, intense, sexual encounter. An encounter I could easily envision stretching well into the night. Never before had our relationship ventured this far. We had openly joked about going ahead and doing a full sexual encounter only a couple of times in the three years I had known her. But each time, one or both of us found excuses for not allowing it to happen.

The farthest we had ever allowed things to go was oral sex, and that was strictly used as a combination of a tease, and an effort to satisfy each other's natural urges, safely. You can't get pregnant from oral sex, and it still allowed Daphne to technically maintain her virginity. She continued her masterful orchestration of nimbleness, until I was completely naked.

Throughout this undressing process, she had been very careful to avoid any contact at all with my proud display of manhood. Instead of the pantyhose and sex I was expecting, she eventually had me stand totally naked, at the foot of the bed. She then wrapped me in the same damp and lightly scented towel she had used after her shower, being careful to put it on me in the same manner she had worn it earlier.

Once I was securely wrapped up in her towel, in "girl fashion", she led me down the hallway, and into her bathroom. Halfway there I suddenly realized that I was now in full view of Terri and her boyfriend, should they decide to look in our direction. Fortunately, they didn't. When Daphne and I finally arrived at the bathroom, she drew a nice hot bubble bath, and instructed me to sit and soak for a few minutes.

Eagerly, I sat down in the tub, soaking and enjoying my first, girl type, bubble bath. Daphne began by adding some scented bath oil, through the mountains of lightly scented bubbles. She told me to just lay my head back, close my eyes, and relax, explaining that this was something "us girls' really loved to do.

I followed her directions, to the letter, all the while enjoying the light lilac scent of the warm bath water, as she began slowly taking off her dress, being very careful to avoid getting it wet, as she carefully hung it on the back of the door. Next to come off and get hung up, was her slip. Everything else, she elected to continue wearing. As she finished undressing, I closed my eyes and quietly listened to her rumbling around the bathroom as I soaked.

She stripped back down to her bra and crotchless panties, then picked up a wash cloth and began bathing me. I just sat back to enjoy. I did notice, however, that she seemed to be spending a lot of extra time on my legs, rather than attacking my manhood. I allowed myself the pleasure of thinking that she was merely continuing her tease.

I fully expected her to jump into the tub with me, underwear and all, and get it on right then and there, in spite of our unspoken agreement about limiting our contact with each other sexually. After all, I was so excited by this time that I was actually pointing straight up, above the bubbles. I was more than ready for all the action she wanted, as soon as she wanted it, for as long as I could hold out.

What brought me out of this dream like state of mind, was when she carefully lifted my scrotum, and I felt something dragging lightly across the sensitive skin between my legs. I opened my eyes once again, and saw that she had taken one of her razors, and had actually shaved my chest, and my legs, all the way up to my hips, without me even realizing it. She had hidden the razor within the folds of the washcloth and gently shaved me, as she scrubbed.

As I began to jokingly scold her for this, she responded by simply ordering me to raise my arms, telling me that a "proper lady" didn't allow all of that unsightly hair. She continued this shaving ritual, and I ended up with bald pits to go with my bald legs. I was soon left with hair only on my head, my crotch and my backside

I was then instructed to get out of the tub, and given a fresh towel. As I dried myself off, I couldn't help but notice the refreshing tingle of all my newly shaved skin. During this drying off process, she had me turn my back to her, and drop my towel, at which time she quickly shaved my lower cheeks as well. As she continued the shaving ritual, she also continued explaining to me that, no proper young lady would be caught dead with that kind of growth. She also assured me that with the hair being softened as much as it had, by the warm bath water, there was no need for any kind of lather. Once dry, she applied oil to my legs, powdered my backside, crotch, chest and underarms, then wrapped me back up in the towel. She got back into her own clothes, then led me back into the bedroom, where she had me lie down on the edge of her bed.

By this time, I had reached such a sexual high that, I would have done literally anything, just to keep from losing it. My desires were rewarded with a quick round of oral sex that totally blew my mind. As she performed this little feat of magic, she moved around to a position directly on top of me, with her head and shoulders aimed towards my feet, into what is commonly referred to as the 69 position. She pulled up on my knees and locked her elbows behind the back of my legs, from the inside, in such a way that I was held completely spread eagle and had no physical control of my position at all.

She also began skillfully exploring and kneading my scrotum, and found that each of my testes had a small pocket up inside my body that they fit into. The same "pockets" that everything 'down there' pulls up into when it gets too cold outside. She kept exploring, along with the oral workout, until I lost complete control.

I was beginning to more fully realize the advantages her crotchless panties had to offer, but I was so wrapped up in what she was doing to me, that I didn't even try too hard to return the favor, I just laid back and enjoyed. She had even sprinkled some of her perfume on the lace trim of her panties, and that really compounded my enjoyment. She didn't complain though, she just smiled confidently about what she had discovered and about her other accomplishments.

Once she had finished her task and got off of me, she said that this little snack she had just had, was much needed - to take care of the problem that I had so proudly presented to her. However, to make matters even worse, and much harder to keep from having a recurrent problem in that area, she quickly took out a small pair of scissors. She then began trimming and shaping my somewhat oversized, bushy mound of pubic hair, into a more typically feminine, oval pattern.

During this procedure, she once again brought out the razor, and carefully cleaned the area immediately above and on each side of this newly formed oval. I was both pleased and pleasantly surprised at just how gentle she had been with both the razor and scissors. Fortunately I didn't have to worry about the other guys in gym class making any odd comments about this new found baldness, because I wasn't taking gym that next year at school.

As I started winding down from this sexual high, she gently pushed the family jewels up into my crotch. She gently pushed them up inside of my body, into the new cavities she had just found, then folded my dwindling member back between my legs, and instructed me to bring my legs tightly together, in order to hold myself in that position for a couple of minutes.

Daphne then held up a hand mirror, so that I could get a look at her handy work, and asked, "There you are Miss, is that what you had in mind?" I couldn't answer, I was so lost in this world of ecstasy that I was now totally speechless.

What I saw in that mirror looked so much like a girls crotch, that I was having a difficult time even realizing that it was actually me that I was looking at. Things had already progressed so far beyond my original joke that I was unable to even think of the possibilities of what would happen next. All I could do was just lay there wishing this would never end, flashing a smile of approval.

Daphne then had me sit up as she began dressing me once again. I saw that she was putting a pair of her panties on me, instead of my jockeys. With everything that had happened so far, I didn't object, I simply let her do whatever she wanted. Afterall, this is what I had planned on getting her to do anyway, the rest of it was just adding to the moment.

The panties she put on me were so light, and felt so different, after my recent shave, that I couldn't believe the difference. I had already noticed that they seemed to provide me with just a bit more support, due their snugness, while at the same time it felt like I had nothing on at all down there. The panties were followed with the fishnet pantyhose and the girdle, all coming from the pile of clothes I had placed on the bed earlier. It was coming about at last, I would be definitely be wearing her underthings afterall.

She had even taken the time to carefully explain the positioning of the labels for each of the garments. She pointed out the correct way to handle pantyhose to prevent runs, then she commented that, with my girdle on the outside, we could get it off easier later on.

The pantyhose, on my freshly shaved legs, provided me with another sensation I had never before experienced, the cool air circulating around my legs was beginning to take on sexual overtones of it's own. This was so much different than the first time I had worn her things, that I no longer had a point of reference, I was now in completely virgin territory. By the time Daphne had added the girdle, my mind was totally blown and, I was beginning to realize that she was now in full control, I was just there for the ride. Here I was, a big macho man, willingly encouraging her to dress and treat me like one of her dolls. And to think, "I had been the one to initiate this series of events".

I began thinking of what she had been saying as the evening progressed. Why was she actually taking the time to teach me how to wear women's clothes? And why was it so important for me to know where the labels are normally located on her underwear?

Daphne had taken the time to carefully rearrange my manhood once again too, as she had done for my look into the hand mirror, then made sure that I was held it in place properly by the panties, pantyhose and girdle. When she had finished, I could not see even the slightest hint of what was actually between my legs. The visible contour of the outside of my new underwear would indicate to any casual observer that they were actually looking at a young lady, not a crossdressed, sex starved young boy. I was totally amazed with the illusion that Daphne had managed to create, without causing me any pain at all. She was a genius in her ability to think quickly and adapt to the situation.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, basking in the sensual feel of the panties, girdle and pantyhose, I was eventually instructed to get up and move over to the chair in front of the dressing table. I thought she just wanted the extra room so that she could either get into another dress, or even possibly out of her underwear, so I moved quickly and quite willingly.

As I took my new seat, I began glancing at the wide array of cosmetics she had sitting out on the table, and watching her in the dressing table mirror. From my new vantagepoint, I now had an unrestricted view of her, in the dressing table mirror. I could see literally everything from head to toe. Every movement, every expression, every nuance of sexuality flooded my every sense.

.

Instead of doing either of the two things I had thought she would do, she very quietly moved right up behind me, stood there for a second, then in a matter-of-fact approach, picked up a nail file, and began working on my fingernails. Gradually she cleaned, filed and shaped each and every one of them, taking special care to ensure that the cuticles were also properly cared for.

Once again I was instructed to just close my eyes and relax. I did, and soon I began to notice a cool feeling on my fingertips. I opened my eyes to find a, rather sexy, light pink nail polish being skillfully applied to each and every one of my fingers. Once finished with my nails, she began gently applying make up to my face, including mascara, eyeliner and lipstick - on top of all the foundation stuff. I had become so transfixed by everything she was doing that I couldn't even think straight, all I could do was sit there letting her do her thing.

I must admit that I was very much surprised, as well as pleased, to see what I felt to be a pretty young woman appear, in that dressing table mirror, where I had once seen a sex starved, hot blooded, teenage boy. By that time I didn't know for sure where all of this was leading to. All I knew was that I was too far gone to care too much one way or the other about what kind of plan she was cooking up, I just had to go along and finish the ride.

She continued her preparations by fixing my hair, also in a very cute feminine style. Again, I was having a hard time believing this transition. Even in my most intense experimentation I had never had the nerve, the opportunity, or even the skill and knowledge to go this far. Daphne was actually managing to fulfill one of my most cherished fantasies, one I had intentionally never taken the time to completely share with her before, out of fear of chasing her away.

Once she completed my new hairdo, she put me back into a bra, then added a pair of rubber falsies to give it better shape and make me even more presentable. As she backed off to admire her creation, she smiled and said something else that I will cherish for the rest of my life. Her next comment hit me right between the eyes, as she carefully watched for my reaction to her next pearl of information. She said "Now there Bernice, Twin Sister of Mine, you are beginning to see what us women have to go through every day, just to look pretty for our men? The next time, you may have to do all of this by yourself, so remember how it's done.... How do you like it so far?" The last part of her question about "So Far", went right over my head, along with "us women", "our men" and "The next time". I was still too surprised to hear this use of my actual middle name, "Bernice" and "Twin Sister of Mine".

As I sat there, feeling a slight blush come to my face. I replied that I was so turned on, and enjoying all of this so much, that I didn't think it would take too much at all, for me to get used to this kind of treatment, or these clothes, on a regular basis. I finally confided in her, then and there, that what she was doing for me was, making a lifelong dream coming true.

I had completely surrendered myself to her loving care, as she gently and skillfully guided me through this entire transition to feminism. She was allowing the little girl and woman, inside of me, to come to the surface, one aspect at a time.

I think I may have even used the phrase "I love it", I don't remember for sure. No matter how many times I play back that night in my mind, I still can't be sure. All I can be sure of, are the feelings I experienced, and some of Daphne's specific comments, expressions and encouragement.

Daphne said that she had "suspected" for quite some time that I would make someone an ideal sister. As a matter of fact, my distinct lack of typical macho mannerisms is one of the things that had attracted her to me in the first place. She admitted to occasionally wondering how our relationship would have worked out, had I actually been born a girl, rather than a boy.

She then had me stand up as she returned to her dresser. Her next instruction was for me to, close my eyes and, hold my arms up in the air. As I did this I heard a dresser drawer open and close, then felt something cool slide down over my head and shoulders, gently gliding and falling down over my hips and half way down to my knees, something silky and sexy.

As I opened my eyes once again I saw that she had put a full slip on me, and that it made my enhanced bust-line appear even more feminine, it hid some of the obvious gaps between me and the bra I was wearing. I thought, at the time, that the little pink rose on the front of the slip, just between my breasts, added the perfect touch.

The feel of the clothes I was now wearing was so sensual, and so perfect, that I was absolutely awe struck. Never in my life could I have imagined things could ever be like this, if I had, I would have found a way to do this a whole lot earlier.

It slowly began to dawn on me that, here I was, standing in the middle of Daphne's bedroom, wearing her clothes, and thinking in terms of my breasts rather than my chest. As this revelation was coming to light, Daphne finally had me step into the dress that I had picked out, and gently zipped it up the back. It was almost a perfect fit. It held me very snugly from my shoulders down to my waist, then felt as if I was wearing nothing at all from the waist down, except for the girdle. Even my new pantyhose weren't registering on my senses, unless I started moving around.

The puffy sleeves of the dress gave me more than enough shoulder room. The combination of the girdle and the tight bodice of the dress really helped to accent what had become a very feminine figure. The full skirt also helped to give the added appearance of fuller, more womanly, hips, because of the gathered material at the waist and the rapid flare of the skirt.

The dress, I had chosen, reminded me of one I would expect to see worn, with a fluffy petticoat, although petticoats were not really all that popular at that particular point in history. I can't help thinking that a light petticoat might have made a world of difference. If she had one, I'm also quite sure she would have put one of them on me too.

I was in seventh heaven, and getting turned on more and more as the evening progressed. I gradually found that even the girdle was, in it's own way, helping to maintain my heightened awareness. The girdle was preventing me from getting another erection, and was helping to focus my attention on that part of my anatomy. All of this extra attention was being translated, in my mind, into a never before known level of sexual sensitivity.

What made things even better was, when Daphne put her own dress back on, and we stood side by side, looking into the mirror. We could have, literally, passed for twin sisters at that point. She had fixed my hair into a very girlish style, closely resembling her own.

Our hairstyle was a light, fluffy style with bangs and a cascading effect down the back and sides. It was kept in place with a couple of hairpins and what felt like a ton of hair spray. The only way I could ever have expected my head to look like this was with a wig, and even then it would have still looked fake. This style though, looked perfect, on both of us. With this style, the bangs managed to frame our faces beautifully, and even managed to accent our eyes.

Daphne then went back to the closet and pulled out a pair of her shoes and had me try them on too. These shoes were black leather and had a one-inch heel. They were a bit tight on me, but I was still able to wear them. We found out later, that they were only about a half size smaller than what I needed. I was determined that, we had come this far and, I was not going to allow something as menial as tight shoes ruin it for us now.

By this time I was more than ready to forget about the movie and just settle into her bedroom, and her bed, for the evening. I began daydreaming and thinking that we had earned that right, and were ready to enjoy an evening of experimenting and sex. I thought that things had progressed to the point that, Daphne would probably have me model a few more outfits, and maybe even a couple of her nightgowns, before we hit the sheets and got caught up in a night of sexual fantasy. I quickly found that this was not to be the case.

  

  

  

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