Starting With A Kiss

by Mardee Louise Prynne

  

For as long as I can remember I've been drawn to pretty things. You do know what I mean when I say 'things.' Soft colors, pastels, brights, prints. Smooth cool nylon that warms against the skin. Soft cotton that molds itself to every contour, every dimple. Panties, slips, garter belts, girdles of every type, color, and style to express moods and whims. Slips and pettis that swirl deliciously around calves and knees. Hose that highlights the tapered calf, the slender ankle. Heels that are just so useful in bringing an admirer to heel. Those very same heels can prove to be such useful weapons in so many situations.

I wasn't terribly short but I was slender and remained so even past the age when most boys became thickset. Thank heaven I never became hairy. Neither did my voice change drastically. It deepened only to soothing contralto that was neither male nor female. People took the voice to belong to whichever sex they perceived me to be.

My mother and father separated when I was a baby and subsequently divorced. My father had no contact with us and so my mother and I had each other to ourselves. Mother was an independent, very private lady whose mannerisms and vocal inflections had become part of my own personality. Although only a clerk in an office, my mother managed to earn enough to provide us with good food, nice places to live, good clothes, and occasional extras like concerts and shows in the city.

I had only one cousin and I adored her. Rivie was four or five years older than I. Don't let that fact that she was a frilly, feminine sort of beauty fool you. She could hold her own against most boys in games or fights.

Cousin Rivie let me share in her 'dressing up box' when I was little and we played together. I was thrilled to be accepted by Rivie and to be included in her games. Being older, she was very much in charge of our games and I was her never reluctant little girl when we played mommies, her waitress when we played restaurant, her strutting and sashaying model when we played fashion show. There was nothing deliberately erotic about these games but they thrilled me all the same. Neither her parents nor my mother knew just how very creative were the games we played in that attic. Or so I believed.

The thought that there would come a time when these games would have to end as we got older was simply dreadful. That time never came; not really. These special activities modified and evolved until they were no longer fantasy games but reality.

As I progressed through grammar school and into high school, I began to hate my boys' clothing, especially my underthings. That was easily resolved by sneaking panties my cousin no longer wanted under my coarse white briefs. I realized I had my mother's tacit approval when a pair of powder blue cotton panties I had worn wound up in the hamper and, a few days later, turned up on my dresser along with my clean more typically boy laundry.

It was too soon to openly share my secret with my mother so we both ignored what we knew.

My tastes and desires didn't end with girls' clothing. I was looking longingly at boys but was still unaware of the possibilities. It wasn't that I simply wanted the boys to love me as they would a girl. Don't delude yourself by thinking that I wanted them to make love to me. Hardly! They wouldn't ever be allowed to use me to satisfy their needs. My needs, my satisfaction would always be foremost. Perhaps, just perhaps, if they were really 'good' they might be allowed to relieve themselves. I wanted them to want me, to want me so badly that they would be subject to my whims, to my moods, to my desires. Did I say "subject to my whims?" It took me a while to learn that the more appropriate word would be "subjugated."

From the time I started kindergarten I was rejected by the boys wherever we lived but I was accepted by the girls until they too realized that boys weren't supposed to behave as I did. It no longer mattered that I could jump rope, play jacks, that I had a good color sense, and knew the names of flowers. I was, by age ten, a total reject. Then things got worse. I was pushed in the halls at school, jumped by the boys and even pushed around by some of the most feminine girls. Once I started high school it was a little easier. I was mostly left alone. Better lonely than bullied, I figured. They couldn't leave me completely alone. There were still a few guys who just had to push me against the lockers, a few girls who just had to act sexually provocative in front of me and their friends and end the game by saying how "See, he's not interested in the least. He must be queer."

It was pretty much the same each time we moved although since the middle of high school things got a little better with each new school. This time the new living arrangements were pretty okay. I still looked up to Rivie for her beauty, her dance talent, and her independence.

I was, at first, a little upset to see that a boy I knew from one of my many old neighborhoods had moved to the same new neighborhood. Ron was kind of nice sometimes, cute, and even said "hi" to me every now and again. The thing was that I could never be sure whether he was being nice or making fun of me or both at the same time. I was hoping that he thought I was cute or pretty and that's why he was sometimes friendly.

It was a hot June day when the storm broke. There were very few teens at the library and almost no adults other than staff. No air-conditioning and the storm made it necessary to close most of the windows. I moved to an open window that was in a sheltered corner and made myself as comfortable as possible by sitting on the sill with my foot on it and with my back against the window frame. The near empty library had made me less than cautious so that the hem of my white cotton panties showed under my very short shorts. It was then that I realized that Ron was staring at the back of my upper thigh. He was magnetized by the ever so slight glimpse of the hem of those oh so innocent yet so seductive white panties. Somehow I wasn't embarrassed. Waves of confidence and of determination swept over me. I smiled at Ron who blushed. "Like what you see?" I asked teasingly as I touched the tip of my tongue to my upper teeth.

Which of us was more shocked, I don't know to this day. I was startled but pleased with myself at how quickly, how easily, how naturally I took to the role of a predatory girl.

"I don't know what you're..." He was clearly flustered.

"Come off it, Ron. Don't tell me you don't know panties when you see them. You know you're staring so you must like what you see."

I reached out, took his hand, held it in mine for a brief instant, and then with a sudden yank, brought him closer to me. I ran my hand down the front of his chest, brushed my fingertips lightly over his hardening cock.

"A guy like you must have kissed lots of girls. You graduated from high school last year so you must be experienced; very, very experienced."

He started to back away as I stood up. My arms were around his waist, my hands clasped behind him. I brought my face close to his and paused. He put his mouth to mine and we kissed.

My hand found his prick through his chinos. The shaft was sticking up and held flat against him by his brief underpants. I pressed the heel of my hand against the base and rubbed up and down. In a minute a dark stain spread over the front of his tan chinos.

"Our secret." I winked and walked away. My heart was pounding as I realized what I had just done. How many girls could get a guy to cum so easily, so quickly, so mercilessly?

It had been over week since Ron and I kissed in the library. It gave me this really neat feeling, kind of like I could be in control of all the boys who had bullied me, when I thought about how much Ron liked the kiss and how quickly I made him cum. I was sacred that Ron might get his friends to jump me so I wouldn't tell what happened. It didn't turn out like that at all.

I was in the corner 'candy store' looking at comic books. I had already picked out the latest Mary Marvel. She was so neat that I really wanted to be like her and beat up on all the bad guys. It would have been so incredible to have the nerve to buy magazines like Seventeen or Young Miss but I was too scared of the looks I'd get. Real girls my age were too old to read American Girl, but it had a special appeal since it had ads for stuff that younger girls would want; "Her First Brassiere" or "When She Goes From Bobby-Sox to Stockings." Besides all that, I thought those scout uniforms were really cute. Maybe if I bought American Girl people would think its for my younger sister and not for me. The fact that I had no sister, younger or older, always brought back the fear of embarrassment and of mockery. Maybe I should have been used to that fear and to that mockery by now.

The bell over the door jangled and in came Ron. I was afraid to say hi or anything.

"How ya doin', Shel?" Ron was really glad to see me but he seemed kind of shy, with none of that school yard tough arrogance he usually showed! Ron came really close to me and, before I could answer, continued speaking. "Shel, I feel real bad about what happened in the library, I mean when I took off like that."

"That's okay. I understand. It happened so quickly. I guess neither if us meant it to happen. Forget it." I really wanted to say 'too quickly' or that 'it ended too soon' but I didn't dare.

"Okay, if you want me to. I want to buy you a soda or something to make up for my leaving you flat like that."

I smiled and nodded. "Sure, if that's what you like."

Ron bought sodas and treated me to my three comic books! I wondered if I could get him to buy those magazines for me. He offered to walk me home and I didn't refuse on account of how nice he was being.

We turned off the avenue and headed down the tree shaded side streets. "Shel, promise not to get pissed or anything like that. I have the weirdest idea that you were wearing girls' panties when we...you know when that thing happened in the library..."

I interrupted him to avoid answering his question. "Girls' panties! Aren't panties just for girls? Can you imagine such a thing as boys' panties? They wouldn't be panties if boys wore them. That's just so silly." Of course I had been wearing panties but I wanted him to think that he dreamed up that part, at least for now.

Ron blushed and forced a laugh. "Yeah, I guess I was being, er, like you said, silly" He sounded unconvincing and unconvinced.

I smiled at him and covered my lower lip with my teeth. I spoke with the barest hint of mockery.

"Could have been wishful thinking."

He looked away from me.

I deliberately brushed against him as we walked. He liked feeling my skin against him but was too awkward to handle it. I was back in my predatory girl mode and pressed my advantage.

"Well, I guess a boy could wear panties." I glanced at Ron and smiled. My remark that a boy could wear panties brought a thoughtful expression to his face. I continued before he could speak. "Really kind of wild when you think about it. Here's my house. Thanks for the soda and stuff. I liked walking with you."

"Can I phone you so we can talk some more?"

"Sure. We're in the phone book. Might be nice to get a phone call from you."

I knew he wanted me to give him my phone number on the spot but I wasn't about to seem like I was in any hurry to comply with his need to treat me as girl even thought I was secretly reveling in how easy it was to attract a boy and make him squirm.

He waited in order to watch me go up the walk to my house. I took two or three steps up the walk, paused, turned my head over my shoulder. "Ron, let's not forget what happened in the library."

He fidgeted awkwardly but didn't answer. I touched his wrist with my finger tips.

"Promise me you won't forget." It came out as a low purr.

"Sure, if that's what you want."

"Don't you want to remember that too?" I turned without waiting for an answer.

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It was time to figure out a way I could show off my panties without getting my head busted by Ron's friends. After putting my new comic books in my room I went over to my cousin's and talked with her. "Rivie, I need some advice. You know how girls sometimes flirt by letting the edge of their panties show under their shorts when they bend over in front of a guy they like. Well, I want to do that but my boy shorts are just a tiny bit too long for that."

"Shelly, there are two ways we can fix the problem. I can sew a new hem on your shorts, make them shorter, give them a kind of turned up cuffy look. Yes. We'll do that. There's a quicker fix though. There are tons of girl style shorts that you could wear and no one would notice unless they were really looking hard. Try on some of my old ones. They're yours if you want them."

"It won't work. I don't have panties on right now. Girls' shorts wouldn't ever look right with these ridiculously heavy underpants that I have to wear."

"We're taking a walk to the five and ten but first come up to my room."

When Rivie and I left her house, I looked very different. She had given me a pair of white cotton panties that were brand new! I was wearing dark blue short shorts that barely concealed my tush. The zipper was in front so that only a careful observer might notice that the fly was right over left. A powder blue tank top showed off my smooth skin and softly contoured shoulders. Back then it wasn't unusual for a girl my age or at least the age I looked at that early stage of my emergence, to go without a training bra especially when wearing play clothes so there was no problem there. The real kick was that I could have been a girl or a boy depending on what someone expected to see. What I was, like beauty, was in the eye of the beholder.

It was all I could do to keep from bursting into a fit of giggles as we picked out a pack of white cotton briefs and a second pack in pastels.

The last item we bought was a pack of white cotton socks that were meant to be worn with the tops turned down into cuffs.

I was thrilled at having made my first purchases of girl's 'things.' That I was dressed in girl clothing and could have been taken as a girl just as easily as a boy added to the heady experience.

As soon as we got back to Rivie's room, I changed back to my boy stuff with the exception of my underpants. It was just so wonderfully liberating to be wearing panties. They were oh so comfy and they enhanced my feelings of femininity. Just the thought of what I had on made me feel not only femme but naughty and sexy. Wearing panties was just too good to give up. I was never going to wear those awful, disgusting boy briefs when I could help it. Look at what wearing panties that day in the library led to. I had a boy buying me sodas and comics and now he wanted to phone me.

I headed home with my bag from the five and ten to which Rivie had added a pair of her old short shorts. I opened the packs of panties and put them in the back of my underwear drawer. Next I called Rivie to thank her. "Shelly, that was so much fun. Even when you were little and playing with my dressing up box, I knew that you were just too good at being a girl to ever not want to try it for real. I pretended you were a real little, the sister I wanted to have and pretty soon we won't have to pretend you're a girl."

I stripped to my panties and sat on my bed reading some comic books. One of them had an advertisement for some books on judo and other ways to protect yourself. This might be a handy thing if ever one of the guys tried to push me around. I sent away for them on the spot.

After getting into the girls' shorts Rivie had given me and a plain tee shirt, I donned the ankle socks we bought at the five and ten. This was followed by a pair of light blue Keds. (Keep in mind that boys always wore high top sneakers back in the early fifties.) I brushed my longish hair until it looked all shiny and then ran my fingers through it so it would look kind of casual. God, I so much wanted to try my mom's lipstick but that would have to wait.

I headed for the school yard hoping to find Ron. Sure enough, he was playing handball with some of his cronies. I sat nearby until they stopped to rest. They were sitting on the ground with their backs against the wall when I strolled by really, really close to them. They were staring at my legs and my tush. Even the few who had seen me around e weren't sure if it was me or a tomboyishly attractive girl who bore a resemblance to me. This was so wild! I was attracting boys and they were enjoying it even though most of them would, if pressed, admit they knew I was a boy. I had hitched my shorts rather high on my waist before I strolled by that bunch of clods so the hem of my panties was deliberately quite visible to anyone who watched me from the perspective of sitting on the ground.

Ron spoke first. "Hi, Shelly. How's it going?"

"Oh, Ron. Hi. Pretty good, I guess. How're you doing?"

My voice hadn't shown any hint of changing so the other guys were more convinced than ever that they were looking at a cute tomboy who was just a little too young for most of them but maybe not for Ron. Then again, they were all too willing to be convinced I was a girl.

I bent to tie my shoelace. I didn't kneel down; I bent from the waist while keeping my legs almost totally straight. Not that my shoelace needed tying but it was a great excuse to continue showing off my new white panties. Of course, it also meant another way to tease, to torment, to frustrate the guys.

I straightened up and smiled at Ron. "Wanna go for a soda?"

"Great, Shelly. Just let me finish one more game."

One of the older guys asked, "Is Shelly short for Rochelle or Michelle?"

"Neither." I almost blew it with my reply. I would be jumped if I said Sheldon so I faked it. "It's Shelby. Since I moved here everyone thinks I've been saying Shelly but it's really Shelby." I turned to Ron.

"Ron, I'll wait for you but don't keep me waiting too long."

I sat down on the grass nearby and folded my legs in a lotus position so that my crotch was plainly visible. As the boys resumed their game, I started doing some leg stretches that Rivie had taught me. Of course I made sure to show off my panty hem each time I extended my leg straight up. Those ridiculous boys played ever so badly. Just too distracted by a girl who was just learning to show off her panties. I wonder how they would have reacted had they known that the panties of this cute little girl, the panties which distracted them so much at the slightest glimpse, concealed a prick that was at least as adequate as any of their own.

The game took longer than Ron had hoped, what with all the do-overs and other such cop-outs owing to the fact that even the bigger guys were hooked by my seductive antics. I began to pout and called out to Ron. He looked sheepish. "Ron, I'm going..."

"No, Shelby, please wait. I'll make it up to you."

"Promise."

He nodded.

"Say you promise," I said in a tone that was both a whine and a demand.

Ron again nodded. I glared at him. "Shelby, I promise I'll make it up to you." He and his partner lost 21-16.

Ron bought us sodas. As he walked me home I kept brushing my wrist against his. He started to hold my hand a couple of times but was too uptight. Who could blame him? We stopped at the walk of the two family house where I lived with my mother. "Come on up. I'll show you my room."

"Shelby, this is like being queer. You're a boy and I keep thinking of you like you're really a girl. I know the guys thought you were really a girl."

We made our way up to our part of the two family house.

"You like me the same way you would like a real girl. So what as long as no one knows what we do about it?" His eyes brightened but his face became sad, puzzled when I continued. "That is if we really do anything about it."

"Shelby, you're wearing real panties, right?"

"So what if I am?... Why don't you take a closer look? That way you can know for sure. Don't stare like that. You know you really want to see my panties, the panties you hope I'm wearing." I put my hands on his shoulders and pressed down until he dropped to his knees. I turned my back to him and touched my hands to the floor to give a great view.
"Go ahead. You know what you want to do. Kiss my panties while I'm wearing them." He moaned as he kissed the hem. I turned to face him. "These are just in the way." I dropped my shorts and kicked them aside. I guided him to his feet and opened his belt, tugged his jeans down. I sat on the edge of my bed. "Kiss me."

We spent what seemed like both seconds and hours exploring sensations with our lips and tongues. I slipped my hand into his fly and wrapped my fingers over his cockhead.

My own cock was becoming harder than it had ever been. I yanked my panty crotch aside and let my prick spring free. Ron was transfixed. I lay back on the pillow as Ron eagerly took my cockhead in his mouth. He was awkward and frightened but it felt great. My cock was in my boy lover's mouth and I was in total control. I jerked him off while he sucked me. Each time his prick started twitching I relaxed my grip. As the twitching subsided a pained look came across Ron's features. This was just the way I wanted it. No way was I going to get him off. He was going to learn how to get me off big time before I would let him cum for me. "Careful, lover. I'm about to cum." He still kept my cockhead in his mouth. I exploded into his eager throat.

My own cum tasted so great as we kissed. I pushed his jeans down and slid my hand into his shorts. We kept kissing as I milked his dick until he shot his load into his briefs. That didn't take at all. Bitchy little thing that I had become, I didn't even allow him to use a tissue to clean up, let alone use the bathroom.

Ron quickly got himself together. As I pushed him out the door, I demanded, "Call me. I don't like to be kept waiting."

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It was just an impulse, a spur of the moment urge but it was a great lesson. The hair care products in the window of the drug store caught my eye. There was no thought involved, no planning, no hesitation. I just walked in and picked out a packet of two small barrettes that a girl might use to hold her hair back on the sides. I also chose a tortoise shell colored plastic comb, the sort that girls use to hold their hair in place as well as a larger barrette. I handed these to the lady who took care of the cosmetics counter. My heart was thumping with fear that she might laugh at me or refuse to sell these definitely female items to one who was far from definitely female. She gave me a friendly smile.

"Say, you're pretty good at picking these out. Just perfect colors to go with your wonderful hair. So many kids your age have no sense when it comes to choosing things that are right for them. Just go with what their favorite movie star endorses whether it's right for them or not. You know we carry this rinse that would really bring out the red highlights in your hair. Such a rich brown you've got. Let me give you a small bottle. No charge. Try it. Washes out with shampoo. My treat. I like to get a girl... a kid like you off on the right foot."

"Gee, thanks."

"Don't mention it. Just learn to enjoy being pretty."

It was a great lesson, one that's stood me in good stead in many situations. People don't really care or even notice what you buy as long as you do it like it's the most ordinary thing going. And sometimes, when they happen to notice, they even get some sort of kick out of helping a girl like me.

I stopped at the stationery store and bought a diary. It was powder blue fake leather and had a little brass lock.

I started writing my diary that same evening. Sitting on my bed, I wrote about how good it felt to have Ron suck me, how much more powerful I was feeling as I progressed further along the road to being a girl, yet not a girl. Ron called just as I was finishing my first, rather lengthy entry which recapitulated my girlish adventures starting with the first kiss in the library. He admitted that eating me was "great and all that but..."

"Ron, you have some very weird ideas about me. I don't really care if you want to make out with me or not. If you think being together means that you're going to have your way with me when ever you want, just think again. I was going to ask you if you wanted to go to a movie or something this weekend but just forget it. Why don't you call on of those booster squad hotshots that you're always drooling over? They probably won't look at a jerk like you."

He hesitated before he started whining and begging.

"Sorry, Ron, but I've better things to do this weekend. Bye."

Returning to the diary, I wrote how my recent experiences had shown me that the very traits for which I had been so tormented for so long were going to be the tools with which I would wreak my vengeance on all those macho shits and their oh so cutesy female counterparts.

The phone rang again. It was Ron being very tedious and just too much the hard guy.

"Ron, don't be such a bore. And don't threaten me, not now, not ever...Do you really think I'm going to stand still while you beat my ass?...Careful that it's not your ass that gets beaten....I don't need any help to take you on....Oh, right. Get lost or I might have to hurt you."

I had succeeded in shaking him up. Not that I could have taken him in a fight, at last not for a few more weeks.

Ron called back half an hour later to apologize. I wasn't ready for an honest to goodness Saturday night but I did agree to meet Ron for a over on Friday which was much less a date night. Girls and guys would sit in the balcony of the local movie house and banter back and forth before a few paired off and retreated to the rear of the balcony to get to know each other better.

The self-defense books I had sent for arrived a few mornings later. I asked Rivie if she would help me learn the 'tricks' in the books. "Love to," she replied.

I thought back to last night when Ron had tried his macho bull-shit with me. I was determined to give him and his friends some real surprises if they got too physical.

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That Saturday, after Rivie and I finished what was becoming our daily judo session, I took the subway to Manhattan. I had borrowed from Rivie a sleeveless knit tee in Robin's egg blue which I wore over a girl's tank top undershirt meant to be worn under a sheer blouse or tee. The narrow straps gave the impression I might be wearing a bra or a camisole under the tee. Below the waist = white band leg panties underneath boy's white Bermuda shorts, a great way of showing off visible panty lines! Crew socks and tennis sneakers completed my ensemble. The total effect was cute enough to confuse anyone who might wonder if this were a boy or a girl. It was just what I wanted for the time being. I had some shopping do and the look I created that morning was perfect for it.

I got off the train at Union Square and headed for Washington Square Park where I relaxed on a bench, pushed my hair behind my ears and clipped it in place with barrettes. My hair wasn't yet long enough to need this but it did add to the convincing 'girl' impression that I was so easily creating. Then it was on to Eighth Street and the shops. A straw hat with a wide brim caught my eye. The brim was wide but not so wide that it couldn't be worn by a boy my age. I wore it out of the store.

The next purchase was a gossamer print scarf that I wrapped around the crown of my new hat to add a definitely feminine flair. I managed to turn heads as I strolled along. The looks I got were looks of approval from men. Some women eyed me with a look of approval too, but many others looked at me with envy!

The last purchase was a pair of copper and enamel clip on earrings. I wanted to wear them then and there but I was afraid I might forget to take them off when I returned home.

This was a very special day for me so I stopped in a photo booth and took four pictures of myself. After all, this was my first day as a girl; maybe not quite a girl but sure as hell something other than a boy.

My mother, who had planned to work that Saturday, was already home when I returned. "Put the hat on. I know it creates an air of casual elegance to carry a pretty hat but I want to see you in it...God, Shel, you're so beautiful. This has been just so long in coming. How far did you go with your today?"

"Went down to Greenwich Village. Really, Ma, I didn't spend very much. I really don't even know how to be what I want. I bought a few things to make me feel like a real girl. Honestly, Ma, it was buying the stuff without getting stared at that made me feel so good and so girlish. Took some pictures in one of those photo booths. Please don't be angry. Look."

Mom's jaw dropped in disbelief and then she broke into a big smile. "Unbelievable! Those are really pretty . I just love them. You're going to be a wonderful girl. To tell the truth, I didn't like the idea at first. But you've been hurt so much that the least I can do is help you be what you need to be. Shel, we've wasted much too much time avoiding g what should have been said so long ago, by not being open about what we both know.

"Let me give you your first piece of advice from a mother to her new daughter. Most girls wouldn't use 'ma.' "Mom" might be okay. They might still say 'mommy' or, when they felt grown-up, 'mother.' Try it each way and do what you feel comfortable doing.

"And another thing. Forget about the barbershop. They'll only butcher your hair and make fun of you behind your back if you let your grow out. We can get the beauty parlor I use near work to style you so that your hair can work for a boy or for a girl. And we've got to get you some heels. Not that you're going to wear them outside yet. You'll need to practice here at home, especially on stairs. We can't have you wobbling around clumsily . Heels, when worn gracefully, can be one of the best tools in your conquests.

"I'm pretty sure we'll find you a summer job where you can be all girl all the time. There's a medical office, well kind of a medical office, near where I work that needs a receptionist for the summer.

"And for goodness sake, don't look so puzzled. We've been avoiding talking about your underthings for no good reason. I've known for a long time and you know I know. Any items in the laundry that aren't mine have to be yours and that includes panties. That made it pretty obvious that you want to dress as a girl and that you already started experimenting with that idea. Just in case you're wondering how I know you hope to plan conquests...Remember to close your diary if you don't want me to know any more than that.

"We've wasted so much time. You've been hurting for so long and I've been too afraid to help you be what you were meant to be. That's over. We've got lost time to make up."

"Oh, Mother. I feel so silly...and so great now that everything's in the open."

On reflection I realized that my mother had started off very hesitantly but, as she spoke, her acceptance of my needs and her commitment to helping me become a girl had gained momentum. Would her enthusiasm last in the face of her need for social approval? I would let myself enjoy her support for as long as it lasted.

The school year was coming to an end with a few days off for studying before final examinations. Mother made an appointment for me to meet the director of an office which might hire me as a receptionist for the summer. She said she heard about the job from a woman she rode the subway with. Mother explained that they wanted a wholesome young female but felt certain that given my special situation I would work out just super.

The office provided special psychological services in the form of individual and group psychodramas. The psychodramas were vignettes or plays, unscripted except for a brief outline, in which the patient or group of patients worked out a need with the help of the therapist. The director, a Dr. Vera Racine who was said to be both a Ph. D. psychologist and an M.D. trained in psychiatry, agreed to interview me.

Dr. Racine was handsome rather than beautiful and spoke English with no hint of an accent although she still spoke her native French much of the time. She was a strikingly attractive woman who either dressed in Chanel suits or in the soft, full skirted dresses in the style of Balenciaga or Dior. It was rumored that she had put herself through medical school as a cabaret performer and that she was also a fashion designer. She cleared up many of these myths in the course of our interview.

Before the war Vera Racine had been a cabaret performer, a singer who often accompanied herself on the piano. She wasn't an MD but had earned a doctorate in clinical psychology since coming to the United States at the end of World War II. Her unusual and very successful techniques, she informed me, were designed to purge men and women of their guilt. Their efficacy made her financially independent. She promised I would learn more about this as I worked for her.

"I've always had a special flair for choosing exquisitely romantic lingerie, hosiery, foundations. There were few such garments that could meet my expectations so I simply sketched my ideas and had them custom made. Soon my designs were being custom manufactured for a select clientele. This enterprise has increased my wealth and enhanced my reputation.

"Now that I've impressed you, you must impress me with your typing."

The job was mine! The following Monday I was to come back and try on my uniform which would be a white one piece dress similar to a nurse's uniform. I decided I needed panties, brassieres, slips, hose and shoes that would be appropriate to wear for work. Mother and I spent a very extended lunch hour shopping. I couldn't wait to get home and try some of these things on.

For some unfathomable reason, especially considering I was so slender, I bought a long leg, high waisted panty girdle. I wasn't too sure why but that particular foundation, standard everyday wear for young women in those days, just seemed so powerfully feminine. It would, on a very practical level, serve to prevent the gap between my stocking tops and panty hem from being on display until I learned how to sit and stand with all the demure grace of a well brought up young lady. I may have had dreams of subjugating men, taking my revenge for having been bullied by making them my puppets, but I had no plans to be slutty or cheap.

The panties were a very pale pink. I held them in front of me and turned them carefully as I tried to be sure which was front and which was rear. I figured out that the double fabric crotch (both layers were nylon and not an outer layer of the same material as the panty with a cotton liner like today) was sewn with a wider semi-circle at the back.

The leg bands were narrow elastic that had a different texture, different finish. They were edged with tiny loops that I later learned are called picot (pee-koe) or picoting (pee-ko-ing). I slipped the garter straps under the panties as I slowly slid these everyday but oh so sensual panties up over my thighs.

The bra was next. First I placed a few tiny gold colored safety pins on my dresser. Then I fussed with positioning my falsies in the cups before pinning them in place. It took quite a few minutes to get the bra on properly and to adjust the shoulder straps that first time. The effect was devastating! The curves were modest and believable, the flowering breasts of a young girl. The bra managed to push my soft smooth skin over the top of the falsies so that, if not quite cleavage, there was the promising glimpse of breast showing over the tailored cups.

I sat on a chair in front of a full length mirror in my room clad only in light pink nylon panties, garter belt and white bra. It took a long time to gather the new stocking into a donut. I got hard watching my self roll the opaque white nylon over my calf and clip it in place. It was practically miracle that both stockings had no runs as I stood before the mirror and tightened the garter straps. A self-satisfied smile slowly appeared on my face as I inhaled slowly and deeply. The outline of my cockhead showed through my soft, semi-opaque panties. The curve at the bottom of the wide front garter belt and the straps framed and highlighted my male apparatus giving me a strange, uncanny yet irresistible attractiveness.

This presented a minor conflict. Wearing a panty girdle would render the garter belt superfluous but going without the panty girdle would leave me open to discovery if I were to get hard. This was something I had to work out as I went along.

The phone rang just I dropped a white nylon full slip over my head. It was Ron calling to send the time for our non-date the following evening.

"Guess what I'm wearing, Ron."

"Panties?"

"Yes," I hissed into the phone. "But more than just panties. Want me to tell you everything? First pull down your pants, Now take out your cock. I want you to enjoy yourself."

I urged him to jerk off while I described every detail of every article of the feminine intimates I was wearing. He moaned and came before I was even half finished describing the delicious details of my newly acquired intimates.

It suddenly struck me that I was hard. As I already said, this might present a problem on my new job. What if I were to get hard while talking to a patient? There had to be some way to keep my prick down even if I were stimulated which was likely considering that Dr. Racine was one magnificently powerful sexual presence. The problem was more immediate than I had thought only a short time ago.

The phone rang again, Thank goodness it wasn't that adolescent Ron making a pest of himself again. Still, he was handy and willing to help me experiment with my newly realized feminine power.

This time it was Dr. Racine calling. She reminded me to show up at work early Monday and with a clean face. I was to be totally devoid of makeup and, for my own safety, to carry my feminine attire in a small suitcase. It struck me that she was totally correct. In my enthusiasm to assume a completely female persona I had ignored the disastrous consequences that would befall me if I went too far in altering my appearance and apparel in a neighborhood where so many people knew I was a boy. A boy, however effeminate, however much a barely tolerated sissy, would have been tempting a severe, even fatal beating if he were to cross some vaguely defined line between what might be allowed, if not accepted, and the intolerable.

After changing into cutoffs and an a tee shirt, I looked at my feet and decided that polishing my toenails would make me feel better and would be a discrete way to feel femme under any circumstances. While my toe nails dried, I phoned Ron.

"Hi, sweets."

"Shel! Everything okay? I mean you're not going to cancel our date, are you?"

"Come off it, Ron. It isn't a date. I'm a boy and boys don't date other boys. We're still on for the movies tomorrow night. But look, just so no one thinks we're queer, let's meet in the back row so it won't look like you're paying my way like I'm your girl."

This was too delicious. The poor sap was going to beg to treat me.

"I don't know why but it would be kind of nice if you let me treat you...."

"Ron, sweetie..." I paused to let the sweetie bit sink in. "It's okay if you must. It really would be better if we just went for sundaes after. If it looks like you're dating me..."

"You're right, Shel. It could mean big trouble. I wouldn't want to see you get hurt."

"Thanks for caring, Ron, but I think I can manage to take care of myself. Like I said, we'll meet in the inside lobby. Just watch out for trouble.

"And one more thing..." My voice dropped to a breathy whisper. "Blue...My panties will be blue. Play it right and you may be allowed a quick glimpse, maybe even touch them. Bye, love."

Friday night came and with it my preparations for my non-date with Ron. I decided I would take a bath rather than a shower in order to shave my legs. Not that my legs needed the least bit of shaving but I wanted to experience what I saw as a sensuously femme act. It felt every bit as sexy as I hoped it would. Gliding the razor along my legs and then running my fingers tips over the newly smooth and sensitive skin made me feel lovely, dangerously lovely. I enjoyed shaving my legs so much that I immediately shaved my underarms.

I slipped on the blue nylon panties as smoothly and as adeptly as if wearing panties were the most ordinary thing. And why not? I was becoming a girl, sort of a girl anyway, and for girls of all kinds, any and all sorts panties were standard attire.

The thought of wearing a bra or a real cami under my shirt crossed my mind. That would have been going too far considering that I wanted to torment Ron by making him wonder whether I was getting more into wearing girlish underthings or whether he was kidding himself to satisfy his own fantasies. It might also mean getting my head handed to me if the wrong guys caught on to my game plan.

A blue dress shirt with the top two buttons left open and jeans came next. Crew socks were suitable for both girls and boys so that's what I went for. I chose saddle shoes for reasons that will become obvious in a few minutes. Next I did my hair in a modified pixie or waif style. I studied my reflection in the mirror and wished I could wear something lacy that would show where I left the shirt buttons open. Not worth getting beaten up for, I decided but promised myself that the time when I could do that wasn't far off.

My final preparation before leaving to meet Ron was to quickly look through my judo books. I lingered over some of the techniques that I had managed to master with Rivie's help. Then it was off to meet Ron.

A police car was parked at the corner near the movies. One of the patrolmen lounged against the car while his partner went into the candy store to get some coffee. He was handsome and young, surprisingly young looking considering the several citations he wore above his shield. He was appraising the girls as they walked by. I was a little frightened when I realized he was eyeing me up and down. An attitude of resentment went through me as I was certain he was amused by my faggy looks and haircomb. A sincerely warm, friendly smile from him quickly changed my attitude. It was another of those unexpected, unsought lessons, and it taught me that really confident, truly tough men often appreciate girls like me. Then, as I passed, we made eye contact and he nodded in recognition and greeting. No, he wasn't mocking me. Whatever he meant that smile to say, that gesture to communicate, it wasn't jeering. It made me feel so good inside and so confident that the path I was taking was right for me.

I bought my ticket and went inside. Ron hadn't shown up so I waited in the inner lobby. Two local trouble makers shot me a disapproving look. One of them turned his attention to a couple of girls who walked in while his buddy deliberately walked past me and whispered "get lost, faggot." He tried to bulldoze me out of his way but I stood my ground and elbowed him hard enough to make him flinch and step aside. His buddy laughed as did the girls.

Being unable to get me to move out of his way bothered him. Having been laughed at on top of that was too much for him. He turned and reached out to shove me. I caught his upper arms, grasped his shirtsleeves in my hands and turned him as if I were turning a steering wheel. As he swayed to the side in a useless attempt to keep from falling, I swept my foot against his ankle and knocked his legs out from under him. He went down hard.

I had to resist the temptation to kick him in the ribs or stomp on his ankle. This might have gotten me into trouble and garnered him some sympathy from the on-lookers. Besides, I wanted to save the big show of aggression until I was a little better at the self-defense techniques Rivie and I had been practicing. For now, it was enough that I was making a fool of him.

"I'm gonna fuckin'' kill you," he swore as he staggered awkwardly to his feet.

I put my hands on my hips in that very aggressively sexy posture that girls assume when they know they're taking charge. He threw a clumsy, angry punch that was easily deflected. I trapped his other arm under mine and pushed upward. A bellowing curse came out of him as his elbow bent backwards. Holding him trapped, I stepped from side to increase his pain and his humiliation.

I felt arms grab me from behind as his companion joined in the fray. After shoving my first attacker away, I brought the heavy heel of my saddle shoe into the second attacker's instep. He yelped and released his hold as I faced him and drove my extended fingers into the pit of his stomach. By now two ushers had hold of the troublemakers. Ron who had just walked in on the fracas, which lasted only a minute or two, couldn't believe what had just seen.

"Hi, Ron," I said as if what had just happened was the most ordinary thing in the world. "Wait up while I get us some popcorn."

The cluster of teens which had formed around the fight moved aside to let me through to the candy counter. Some of the guys and a lot of the girls nodded at me in smiling approval for having so handily dispatched two oafs who were always quick to bully the boys and grope the girls whether they wanted it or not.

Ron looked pale as we sat down in the balcony. I put the bag of popcorn on his lap as I settled back in my seat. Reaching for a handful of popcorn, I deliberately let my hand pause on Ron's crotch. He was squirming uneasily. I took his hand and guided it to my waist and under my shirt. His hand stiffened as he felt the nylon of my panties.

"Nice, huh?" I cooed.

"Shel, please. Not here, not now."

"Why not?"

"Come on, Shel. People might get the wrong idea."

I rested my open hand on his balls. Ron looked tense in the flickering light of the movie theater.

"First of all my name is Shelby." I applied pressure to his balls. "Second of all, just remember that you invited me here so any ideas that anyone gets are your ideas."

He swallowed hard. I was thinking there were too many coincidences about tonight. Ron invites me to meet him at 7:30. He's late but these two jerk-offs he sometimes hangs around with show up just at 7:30 and start a fight with me. Ron is uncomfortable when he sees that I kicked their useless asses. Why? I'm thinking I was set up. That's got to be it. Either Ron had second thoughts about his crush on me or his buddies wanted him to prove himself by going along with their plans to jump me. How about both?

I was going to fix him once and for all. I grabbed Ron's shirt front, pulled his face onto mine and gave him an open mouth kiss. At first he resisted but his hormones kicked in and he started probing my tonsils with his tongue. After kissing him for a minute or two to make sure he was really enjoying himself, I yelled to attract attention and then pushed him off me. It looked like he had thrown himself on me and was forcing me to kiss him.

"Just get off me. What kind of queer are you? You must be nuts," I chided as the kids around us stared at Ron in mocking disbelief. It worked. His reputation was shot.

What a great night! Ron's reputation was ruined at least for a while; mine was made for standing up to two troublemakers and whipping their butts. Of course I knew that I had the element of surprise on my side and that the tide would likely have turned against me if it had gone on much longer. Still, I was now convinced that I was learning to hold my own in physical confrontations and that with a little more practice and maybe some real judo lessons, maybe even strength training, I could take on and beat two assholes. I knew I had to develop my strength and stamina. The problem that faced me was how to build myself up while keeping my slender, even delicate looking physique. My naturally girlish body had to be maintained 'as is' if I wanted to be a convincing and attractive girl, a girl attractive enough to make males subservient to her every need and whim.

The next morning, Saturday, was going to be used for studying for exams. I decided that I was going to make double use of the time to practice being a girl. I spent part of that morning putting on modest amounts of makeup in an attempt to develop my own 'look.' It was a minor miracle I didn't wear my face raw with all the times I scrubbed off my makeup and started over. By the time I was through I had taught myself how to make my eyes look larger and how to enhance the natural cupid bow shape of my lips.

I wore a light cotton kimono robe during this practice session. The robe was barely long enough to cover the tops of my sheer, skin tone stockings. Wearing heels in the house in order to get used to walking in them required the stockings. Heels without stockings wouldn't feel nearly as sexy.

I also practiced various modes of sitting modestly. This was done in front a full length mirror which added to the tingle I felt each time I moved one nylon covered leg over the other, each time I crossed my legs at the ankles keeping my knees together. The very short length of my kimono made it impossible to be truly modest but I was able to learn the moves that would be so ladylike in a skirt or dress.

After settling on the makeup style and 'look' I felt was most suited to me, I spent a couple of hours studying for exams while remaining in hose, heels, bra, panties and kimono. Sitting around and studying like that was wild. Every now and then I walked around the apartment to practice walking in heels, to find an excuse to smooth out my stockings and adjust the garters. It was so incredibly sexy while, at the same time, beginning to feel so incredibly right.

Casual attire was the order of the day once it was time to go out and get things done. Pink cotton panties under cut-offs topped by a boat neck, three quarter sleeve shirt. Crew socks and tennis sneakers completed my androgynous outfit. Then it was off to a luggage store where I bought a makeup case and an overnight bag. These would serve to carry my things to work on Monday where I would be made up and dressed in my white uniform. Damn, I just wanted so much to travel to and from work as a girl. Anyhow, there was no cause for complaining when I knew I was making pretty rapid progress toward my goals.

I also treated myself to something that was a cross between a clutch purse and a large wallet. This could be carried as a clutch purse when I was in girl mode but was small enough to be easily and quickie treated as an oversized wallet in order to avoid undue attention.

It was past my usual lunch time so I went to the kitchen and started to make myself a BLT on white toast. Girls, no matter how nice their figures, were always concerned with their diets. I decided that I had to learn to eat more like a real girl and wound up making myself a lettuce and tomato sandwich on white toast with no mayo. A cup of unsweetened tea was my beverage. A regular soda wouldn't go with the weight conscious girl meals I decided had to be part of my new image. Diet sodas weren't an option because, except for a New York area brand called Kirsch's, they were unheard of in the early fifties.

The day was sunny and not too hot so I headed out to the local park with its handball courts. Some kids who had been at movies last night were there. As I neared them, I wondered what sort of greeting, if any, I would get.

It was as if I had been back in my first years in grammar school when the girls had accepted me as almost one of them. They were playing a game called "King" or "Chinese Handball." It was played against a wall with the concrete boxes of the sidewalk serving as each players territory. Each player could hit the ball against the wall as many times as he or she wanted before sending into an other players territory. The players stayed close to the wall.

The girls invited me to join them and I did. We were having a great time until a couple of would be jocks decided they wanted the wall for handball.

"Take off, ladies. This is a handball court."

"Who died and left you boss?" responded Sandy, one of the tougher girls in the neighborhood. Sandy was a tall, well put together high school senior who had no interest in boys. That was putting it mildly; she despised most boys and, unless they left her alone, took every opportunity she could to make them look bad. Rumor had it that she was into girls.

"If you want the court, you have to challenge us for it. That's how it always works." I was surprised that I came on so strong.

"Just leave and save us the trouble of playing you. Maybe we ought to just throw them off the court."

I put my hands on my hips and stared straight into his face. "You really think the two of you can throw all of us off the court?"

Sandy and I had energized the group of girls we had been playing with to stand up to this pair of thugs. I smiled as I realized we had intimidated the two.

"Okay, okay."

"We pick the game. Handball, doubles. Twenty-one points a game, best of three. You play against me and Shelby." Sandy picked me to partner her in the game against two older, bigger guys!

"You're joking, right? You look like you can play but that little cutie, never. Your funeral, girls."

Sandy and I looked at each other and tried to keep from laughing out loud. They had mistaken me for a girl even though I had made no real effort to appear femme that afternoon! Not only was I learning how to groom and dress as a girl, but I had been so intensely practicing female body language and voice inflection that these traits were already becoming integral parts of me and not a costume.

We one the first game by four points. It was almost too easy. I took a minute kneel down to tie my sneaker laces making sure my panty lines showed as my Bermudas pulled taught against my bottom. One of our opponents was totally fixated on staring at my tush. And to think that some girls avoid visible panty lines!

The two big toughies were rapidly becoming winded and tired. Sandy and I prolonged every volley we could in order to further wear down the macho pair. They looked angry and perturbed when we beat them again, this time by six points.

"Say, this is fun," mocked Sandy. "Why stop now? Care to make it three out of four or best of seven?"

They looked like they had had it but they were too proud to give up this opportunity to redeem their shattered male egos.

"Okay. Just give us a minute."

"Sure, big guy." Sandy was just too accommodating, too solicitous for words. "Come on, Shelby. You don't want to just sit around like a lump." She served the ball and we started to play while our two challengers sat down to catch their breath.

We started the next game like a house on fire. It was twelve, three our favor when our challengers got desperate. They tried to block us from returning the ball. I just waited for the one nearest me to be off balance as he ran and then jostled him. He stumbled and almost went down.

"Okay. Court's yours. You got lucky. We'll see you some other time." He lit a cigarette.

"You got that wrong," Sandy said as she stepped in front of him. "You guys are the ones who got lucky, lucky we're letting you off so easy."

"You're letting us off? We could've just thrown you off the court and..."

"You! You and what army, you sorry sack of shit?" She reached out and took his cigarette from his mouth. "Go 'head. Try something."

Sandy had called his bluff!

"Come on," he called to his buddy who was standing next to me. "Let's get out of here before we have to hurt this bitch."

"Screw you," was the reply from his friend. You always want try to start fights and I have to help you out. They beat us. And besides even if we won, we're wiped out so what good would having the court do us?"

His buddy walked off in a huff.

"I really should apologize. He always acts like a jerk, messes things up. You two just played better than we ever could."

"So why do you hang around with him if he's such a jerk?" Sandy wasn't about to let him off the hook so easily.

"I don't know. Guess I always have. Let me make it up to you. Why don't we sit down and have some soda or ice cream? There's the ice cream man on the corner. My treat. I'm really not such a bad guy."

"Dixie cup for me," Sandy replied matter-of-factly.

"Me too." My response was a little warmer than Sandy's, but not by much.

"Sandy, why are you being so mean to him."

"Guess it's 'cause he likes you and I'm jealous. You know you're pretty cute."

I started to blush as I mulled over the full implication of Sandy's casually spoken remarks. She wasn't the sort to engage in idle flattery so there had to be some substance, some meaning in what she was saying. I'm not sure whether Vinny's quick return gave me a sense of relief or a sense of frustration at being unable to respond to Sandy.

Dixie cups, an ice cream confection long gone from the scene, were small card board cups filled with vanilla and chocolate ice cream neatly divided down the middle. Inside the lids were photos of popular film stars or athletes under a peel-off piece of waxed paper. Most kids licked off any trace of ice cream before peeling back the waxed paper. Sandy, after catching my eye, turned this simple act into a very provocative performance. Her look suggested that I do the same for Vinny's benefit. I managed to attract Vinny's full attention as I cleaned the lid but wasn't quite ready or able to emulate Sandy's marvelous tongue.

The three of us made small talk while we ate our ice cream. It was so hard to believe that Sandy I had just won three handball games. Maybe I wasn't such an inept athlete as I had allowed myself to be fooled into believing.

Vinny, that was the guy's name, let his hand rest real close to mine as we sat on the bench. He was making a move on me! I was thinking that I had to let him in on my secret before things went too far. It was then that Vinny shocked me.

"Your name's Shelby, right. I was at the movies last night when those guys started in with you. That was real cool the way you took them on. A little guy like you knocking both of them on their butts! And now it turns out you can play some serious handball."

He was talking softly now. His mood had gone from one of joy to something more somber. Sandy realized he needed to be alone with me in order to say what was on his mind. She excused herself.

"This is real, real hard for me to say. No one would believe you if you told them so I'm not worried but I really need to talk to you. You really come on like a girl and that's a real turn on for me. Even when I was in seventh and eighth grade I liked sissy type boys more than I did girls. Covered it up with this hard guy shit. Since I've seen you around, I have to admit to myself that I'll probably never get into girls, not really. ..not when there are guys like you around.

"I'm trying to be less hoody. Even going to college at night to make something of myself. Anyhow, I have to go to the art museum to look at some paintings. I was thinking about doing it tomorrow...Want to come with me? We can go for pizza or Chinese after. It'll be on me."

"Sure."

"I'll pick you up. My car's no great shakes but it's nothing you'll be embarrassed to be seen in."

I pressed Vinny's hand as he got up to leave. He was really pretty nice. I was lost in thought when it occurred to me that Sandy had sat down beside me and was resting her hand on top of mine.

"You're really special, Shelby. Don't waste yourself on the first guy who treats you okay. Get my drift?"

"You care about me, right?"

"Of course I care about you but...Okay. Let's leave it at that. I care about you." She looked hurt as she put her hand on top of mine. "I've got to get back home. There's some stuff I need to do around the house. This is going to sound weird...Naw, forget it."

"Please tell me what you were going to say."

"I just thought maybe we can get together tomorrow morning nd play some ball or take a walk. l'll go to early mass so you can have time to get ready to see Vinny. That's weird, isn't it?"

"That's not weird at all. We'll have a great time."

What could Sandy have thought was so weird about us hanging out together? There were lots of rumors around that Sandy was a dyke. That was probably because she made too many guys feel insecure. She was pretty, even striking without makeup and had a great figure although she was little more toned than most girls in the fifties. Girls secretly looked up to her for her physical prowess and her refusal to be any boy's ornament. Guys always looked at her like they wanted so badly to get into her panties but they were always too scared to approach her. Why would a girl like that want to spend time with a sissy like me, someone who was already becoming more like a girl than a boy? Sandy was thinking of me like I was a girl! That had to be it. I had already become enough of a girl to attract a beautiful would-be lesbian. This was an exciting new dimension for me, one laden with possibilities. For all I knew, Sandy might have the same attitudes toward boys that I did. If that was the case, we would make a formidable team. The guys had better watch out for us.

I went home and showered. I slipped on a pair of white cotton panties, opened the windows of my room and sat on my bed reading. I dozed off to be wakened by my mother who asked me what I wanted for dinner. There was something cold and distant about her although she said nothing. I wondered if that had anything to do with her having been to synagogue that morning.

"Sheldon, what should we have for dinner?"

Calling me by my entire first name always meant something serious was on her mind. Considering that I was wearing nothing but panties at that moment and that my special needs were now out in the open, this was a double whammy!

"How about some left over pot roast and brown potatoes? You always liked that when you were a little boy."

Something was definitely on her mind. Calling me 'Sheldon' and reminding me that I had been a little boy in one conversation was almost scary. I had expected her to run out of steam when it came to accepting me as I needed to be. I just didn't expect it to happen so soon. Not that it happened yet but it was coming. It was a matter of how long I had wait for the second shoe to fall.

Mother's mood varied between almost manic gaiety and gloom for the rest of the evening. I thought it best to spend the evening at home. Not that there was any place I had to go.

"Mommy, let's watch 'Your Show Of Shows.' Sid Cesar's pretty funny. I'll make a cake from a mix."

I put on hose and heels under a knee length robe. Mother stared at me in barely concealed disapproval.

After laughing at Sid Cesar and Imogene Coca we sat down to tea and cake. Mother suddenly hugged me to her as I brought the cake to the table.

"You look so elegant and you move so gracefully in those shoes, like a real lady of fashion. " She looked down and hesitated.

"The rabbi spoke with me this morning. Someone told him you hit two bigger boys who made fun of you. He said I should make a man out of you. I've been thinking about it all day."
"I know." I was sure my days as a girl were about to end even before they had really begun. What Mother said next was a surprise but not the biggest of many surprises in store for me that evening.

"It was so hard for me to call you Sheldon when I know that's not who you should be....Shelby, I can't do it. You're you and that's all there is to it. No one can ever make me stop helping you be whatever you were meant to be...And besides, you're the sexiest thing ever."

"No, Mummy. You're sexier than I am."

We both laughed, then cried, and then hugged. To our mutual shock, we realized our mouths were together and our tongues were flickering through parted lips.

Mother pulled me closer to her as we kissed. I felt her breasts pressing against me as she cupped my butt in her hands and ground her pubic mound ground my groin. Her hand were under my robe, her nails were digging into my tush right through my panties.

My cock was harder than I could ever believe possible as her sleek nyloned legs slid against my own. Conscience kicked in and I tried to push her away. Her strength startled me as she lifted me from the floor. Her tongue licked my neck as I wrapped my legs around her waist.

She deposited me on the couch and pushed me onto my back. The skirt of her dress was around her waist as she knelt over me. The wet spot on the crotch of her white panties was spreading. Her bottom was over my face she pushed my panties down to my knees as her tongue took the precum that was oozing from my pulsating dick.

"Mommy..." The rest came out as incoherent whimper. She pulled her panty crotch aside as I twisted my head in a mixture of avoidance and ecstasy. Her woman's tangy scent carried me to even higher levels of arousal.

Now she was facing me again, pulling my face to her sopping cunt as she lowered herself onto my face.

"Show Mommy how much you want to please her."

My tongue was circling her clit, thrusting deep into her cleft. She screeched as she came.

In an instant she was kneeling between my legs, swallowing my entire cock. Wave after wave of electricity went through me an orgasm that pulsed on until I was totally debilitated or so I thought.

Mother rocked me in her arms and kissed my face over and over r again. A while later she stood up, slowly unbuttoned her dress, pulled it over her head and threw it aside and let the straps of her slip fall from her shoulders. She was magnificent in her glistening white nylon panties, demure white bra, garter belt and everyday tan stockings. The fact that we were wildly enjoying breaking one of the great taboos of all times added to our excitement. My twitching, rising cock reminded me that I wasn't nearly as debilitated as I had thought only moments before.

She turned her back to me and wiggled out of her panties. I knew what she wanted as I slid from the couch and pressed my face against the fullness of bottom. A moan; then she turned to me and guided me to my feet. She led me to her bedroom and turned down the bedspread.

The fresh sheets were cool against my back as her tongue circled my erect nipples. Her hand cupped my balls as her finger probed the cleft of my cheeks. The caress of her tongue on my tail bone sent unknown, undreamed of bolts of arousal through my spine and to my loins.

"Now show Mommy how well Shelby is learning to do what Mommy does."

I teased her nipples as she had teased mine. Then we were face to face on our sides as Mommy guided my once again erect cock into her. This was too wild to be real. Her cunt tightened around me as her tongue probed every sensitive part of my tongue, of my plate, of my throat. Her fingers thrilled my balls in places and in ways I didn't know. Her tormenting finger nails drove me to even wilder raptures.

Soon we lolled in the contentment that follows an orgasm that will remain forever memorable. Mother kissed me lightly on the lips as the bizarre reality of what had just passed between us dawned on me. Mother put her finger on my lips to shush me.

"Darling, you know Mommy would never do anything to make her little girl feel guilty. I really should have told you this a long time ago. We adopted you when you were a toddler!"

I stared in disbelief and then broke into a huge grin.

"Mommy, that's so wonderful. You chose me, actually chose me and loved me and nurtured me. What's really so wonderful is that you didn't give up on me when I acted more like a girl than a boy when I was little and you even stuck with me when I started wearing panties and everything! Mommy, I love you so much and I just know that you love me."

"Of course we love each other. Isn't that obvious from the way we've been at it for the last couple of hours?"

We laughed, we kissed, we snuggled. This was better than any TV show could ever be.

The sun streaming through the window awakened me as I wondered if last night had been dream. That I was in Mommy's bed with her told me that last night had been very real.

I slid from under the covers and tiptoed to the toilet. Mother was seated at her vanity when I returned to close the shades. The muscles under the smooth skin of her back undulated as she brushed her shoulder length dark brown hair. She rose and faced me as she continued to brush her hair. The movement of her arms caused her breasts to rise to their fullest. As she lad aside her hair brush and advanced toward me I was awed by the firmness of her breasts, by the dark pink aureoles of her nipples. The intense whiteness of her panties highlighted the contours of her hips, of her mons, of her groin as the modest briefs softly conformed to every curve, every dimple of her superlative form.

Mommy was beautiful, sexy, and because she had chosen me as a toddler, available to be my lover for as long need be. She took both my hands in hers, pulled me to her, and kissed me with teasing wetness on the lips. She patted my crotch and purred.

"Shelby, you're just so incredibly talented. No one else in the world could make plain, unadorned pink cotton panties seem so tantalizing. Then again, maybe it's not only the panties but also what you have in them."

She squeezed my balls and kissed me again, this time more intimately.

"Go shower. I'm going to make us a special breakfast. We need to talk."

The phone rang as we were drying the dishes.

"Shelby, for you. Alexandra."

It took a minute for it to click in my head. Alexandra was Sandy's real name.

"Shelby, doll, Mommy's going to take a nap. You go and meet your friend. Be sure to play nicely."

Her kiss, both chaste and promising, send a shiver through me. She turned to go to her room as I turned toward the front hallway. I paused long enough to watch her undulating bottom under her light robe. My cock twitched in my panties.

I paused in front of the hall mirror. The look was perfect. Cute, wholesome, outdoorsy and, best of all, a total mystery as to whether I was a boy or girl. I scanned myself from top to toe. My hair was soft and shiny as it fell over my forehead. The navy tee hugged my curves and highlighted my nipples. Sexy but not quite what I wanted that morning. I reluctantly loosened the tee. The white Jamaica shorts called attention to my smooth, slender but shapely thighs. Crew socks and tennis sneakers heightened the young tomboy effect. A thin expansion band held a small watch on my narrow, even delicate wrist. The few bills in my pocket didn't interrupt the silhouette of my hips. After locking the downstairs door behind me, I slipped the key in my pocket.

"You're so Ivy League," laughed Sandy as we fell into step.

"And you're just too prim and proper for words. Sandy, I've never seen you like this. You're so beautiful."

"Sandy doesn't really work for me anymore..."

"Then you don't mind if I call you Alexandra. That sounds really worldly...really you."

I stared in wonder at my friend. She wore a loosely fitted sky blue skirt cinched at the waist by a wide elastic belt. A demure white blouse sported a Peter Pan collar with a ribbon tie at the neck. The short sleeves had a flat cuff that added to the femininity that Alexandra so rarely showed. Her dark honey hair was pulled back from her face by headband that matched her skirt. Gentle gusts of wind were enough to make her skirt gently billow. She gathered the excess folds of her skirt in her hand to hinder unwanted exposure of her legs and perhaps her panties. Shoes styled like ballet slippers proved that her faultless ankles needed no flattery from high heels. Lightly tinted stockings did nothing to detract from the athletic muscularity of her legs. A small leather shoulder bag hung over one shoulder and across her very adequate bosom.

Without me realizing when it happened, we were walking along holding hands. I must have unconsciously tried to pull my hand from hers but Alexandra resisted and gently held on.

"Doesn't really matter, I guess. No one's up this early. They're just afraid that if they come out too early on Sunday someone might think they didn't have a date on Saturday night."

I was beginning to babble.

"Shelby, of course it matters. It matters very much to me that I'm walking with you and we're holding hands."

We paused, as of one mind, faced each other and let our lips brush.

We sat on an out of the way bench in the small park. Alexandra sat atop the backrest, her feet on the seat. She allowed the window to rustle under her skirt. She reached for her shoulder bag and took out a pack of cigarettes.

"Smoke?"

She didn't wait for my answer but took out two cigarettes, put both in mouth and lit them. I looked up at her as she passed one to me. The backs of her thighs were plainly visible, the contrast between her skin and the stocking tops making an alluring contrast. I took the cigarette, put it my lips and inhaled. I was seized by a fit of coughing, my head was light as if I had hyper-ventilated.

Alexandra waited for me to calm down before she slid to the bench seat. She faced me and without really touching we kissed. Her breath was warm and sweet as our lips parted.

It should have been magnificent and, in so many ways, it was. My mind kept flitting back to Mommy and what had passed between us during the last several hours. Most of all I wondered if what she had said was true?

"Why so preoccupied, sweetie?"

I told Alexandra everything.

"Poor baby."

She held me to her and rocked me in her arms. I felt better after a cry.

"See that ball in the grass. Let's have some little girl fun."

Alexandra darted for the ball some child had abandoned. She threw against the walk and caught it as it came down from a very high bounce.

"Know how to turn over?"

"Huh, what's that?"

She bounced the ball and swung her leg over it as it came up.

"Little girls always play this. You got to make an alphabet kind of song. 'A my name is' or some other stuff like that."

Her guileless enthusiasm snapped me out of my funk. I watched her pink shiny panties appear and disappear as her leg move up and down

"Your turn."

I caught the ball and began. It was innocent fun except that I kept thinking about Alexandra's shiny pink panties. Her teasing voice brought me back to the game.

"No fair!"

"What's no fair?" I asked, truly not understanding what she had in mind.

"I'm wearing a skirt so you saw my panties but I can't see yours. No fair."

She grabbed me around the waist from behind and lifted me as she spun around and then let go. I landed on my back on the wet grass. She pulled my tee shirt from my shorts and undid my top button.

"White! Not only white but cotton. How virginal can you get?"

She tickled my now bare tummy with one hand and slipped her other hand down my shorts and fondled my panty covered balls. I was hard in a second.

We laughed like loons as I realized how much Alexandra's playfulness had brightened my mood. No one had ever had that effect on me before.

"Time to go," she said seriously. "You've got a date this afternoon."

We walked out of the park and toward home. Little was said yet we communicated so much to each other in the serene silence of that warm Sunday morning. Alexandra faced me but kept a few feet from me as we stopped on the sidewalk in front of my house.

"Don't go. Stay with me."

"I know but you have a date with Vinny."

"Fuck Vinny," I grunted.

"I hope you don't."

A peck on the cheek and she was gone.

(continued)

  

  

  

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