The Camp Fire Girl free porn video

What happens when a loving and well meaning sister decides that her little brother should spend his summer vacation, in pretty clothes? Join with us, and see how things transpire for our hero(ine). The Camp Fire Girl Penned by: Miss Deborah Leigh Johnson AKA Miss Karen-Anne Brown I know that this is going to be one of the most unusual times that I have ever spent in my life, so I want to keep very accurate records of all that happens this week. That is why I a.m. writing this diary of my experiences for the week. I do not want to forget even the smallest detail. First, let me tell you what situation we are in, okay ? We are settled into a beautiful campsite in a park in Northern New York state. It is raining out, a sort of wet drizzly kind of day. In spite of the drizzle, we have decided to embark on our one week long camping escapade anyway. Well, my sister Sharon was the one who decided for us. I was voluntold that I was going to go with her. We have managed to get our two tents set up, in spite of the rain. One tent is a smaller one, with just enough room in it for the sleeping cots that can just barely fit into it. It is a bit cramped, but two people can get along in it, if they do not do much aside from sleeping in it. The other tent is the one we are sitting in now, as I a.m. beginning my journal. It is a large tent, with flaps on all four sides. It is what is referred to as a dining tent. Because it is not raining too hard, we have put all four flaps up, to let whatever breezes blow to come in, and hopefully help to dry things out for us. Where we are set up is just such a beautiful place. It is in the Higley Flow state park, just outside of South Colton in New York. The small cleared open space for our tents is surrounded by these huge tall straight 60 to 70 foot pine trees that sway like graceful ballet dancers in the wind. We are on site 3 of loop A. It is so beautiful here. Another nice thing is that there is almost no undergrowth here. All the hill tops, under the pines are covered in a floor of brown pine needles. They are so soft to walk on and they make a crinkly noise when you step on them. They have such a delightful scent to. I love it here. Now, if you were in a car and you were driving by our camp site, you would see two attractive young girls sitting at a picnic table, inside the dining tent. There is lots of bright light in the tent, as we have an electrical hook up at this site. It would be obvious to any casual observer too, from their looks, that the two girls were sisters. One of the girls has short cropped blonde hair, a small cute pixy like face with constantly smiling eyes. She is wearing a pair of cut off denim jeans that are cut just above her knees. Draped over her slim shoulders is loosely hung large bulky pink wool sweater. You could not see it if you were driving by, but I know that under her shorts and sweater, that the only things she is wearing are a delicate pink silk pair of panties and its matching bra, trimmed with delicate white lace. At her ankles, all bunched up, are her white knee socks and on her feet are scruffy white sneakers. This girl's name is Sharon. The other girl Brenda (me), looks younger than her sister. She is younger. Sharon is eighteen, and as I a.m. only fifteen. Her (my) hair is quite a bit longer than her sister's, falling in thick waves to her shoulders. The damp air has made her hair complete in its unmanageable curliness. Presently, her mop is pulled back from falling in her face by her pink hair ribbon, which loosely gathers her hair back into an informal loose ponytail, that is resting on her left shoulder. Brenda is sitting at the picnic table, in a pink corduroy jumper that has three quarter length legs and sleeves. It also has a wide elastic waist band that tends to emphasise her waist's sliminess. Also, her ankles are in white socks, bunched, like her sister's. On her feet are pink sneakers. It is not evident from our seated positions, but, the second girl is an inch and a half shorter than her older sister. Like Sharon, I too, a.m. wearing very pretty lingerie. Only, mine are in a very pretty light mauve colour. The only differences between what she is wearing under her outer clothes, and what I'm wearing, under my outer clothes, is that I a.m. also wearing a few extra items that my pretty sister is not wearing. I a.m. also painfully aware that I a.m. wearing these extra items as well. Partly that is because they do tend to give me a good deal of discomfort, bordering on pain. Actually, I a.m. getting quite used to them and, in some strange way, I do find them somewhat comforting. Let me describe them to you, okay? Firstly, glued to my chest by some adhesive that can not dissolve in water, and for which Sharon had left the dissolving agent back home, is a small pair of soft rubber breasts. These make my chest bulge out to nearly 35", and fill up the cups of my lace trimmed satin bra. Their weight makes the lace straps of my bra cut into my shoulders most of the time. I like the way that feels. Actually, Sharon has gotten me to admit to her, that I really do think that my breasts are pretty. I also had to admit that I really do like having them on my chest. I also admitted that I like the way they make me look more like as though I were a grown up girl, just like Sharon. I have to wear mostly, Sharon's old clothes. That is, I a.m. wearing the clothes that she used to wear about two years ago. I have to have almost exactly the same measurements that Sharon had, when she was my age. Presently, I do have those same measurements. The next special item is a waist nipper corset, that is really quite tight. It has successfully trimmed at least 5" from my waist, taking me down to an 18" waist line. It's very nice size for a young girl. The one that I a.m. wearing is made of a skin tone plastic kind of material that is so tight that I can not get it off without her help In fact I can not get it on without her help either. It is on me till she decides that she will help me take it off, period. I guess that in that sense, I a.m. imprisoned by it. That kind of feels nice to me. The last item that I wear that my sister is not wearing, is an ingenious little device that she made for me. She'd sewn four small round rings of metal to the bottom edge of my waist nipper, two on the front and two on the back side. Then she had taken two lace trimmed elastic bands, and sewn four small hooks to each end. She had then sewn a triangle shape of heavy pink satin between the two elastics. I put it between my legs, and hook the elastics on to the rings. The satin triangle presses my penis up between my legs, tightly. This very effectively flattens out my crotch, and makes me look just exactly like my sister does, when she wears her panties. But, it also makes me sit daintily. If I do not sit carefully, I can easily pull my groin muscles the wrong way, which, I have learned is quite a painful thing to do. If someone were to see my exposed shadow, they would see no trace of the only remaining five inches of boyhood, that I have left to me. The way it smoothes me and makes me look like my sister, very much pleases me. It will also let me pee without having to remove it all the time, but I can only pee by sitting down on the toilet, like any other girl. I a.m. not sure if I can remove this item by myself or not either, but at present, I don't want to remove it. It helps me so much to feel so much more girlish when I feel that constant restraint between my legs. You see, I always get very, very excited by wearing my sister's clothes especially her pretty panties. I have done so ever since the first time that she wanted to dress me up in her lacy little frocks and her soft silk panties. The first time was when I was only at the age of two years. Because I feel this way about wearing girl's clothing, I have always needed something to keep me under control. Because this is device is attached to elastics, if I do get an erection, which is almost a constant state for me when ever I a.m. wearing a pair of girl's panties, it does have some stretchyness to it. But, the stretchyness is not enough to ever allow even a bulge to show. I've even worn tight spandex cycling shorts, when I had it on, and the only thing that was visible at all were my panty lines. I have always loved my sister's pretty clothes. I have tried to describe what you might see if you were just driving by the campsite, that is, except for the description of our frilly feminine underwear. Sharon, the older girl is reading a book. And of course, you'd see the pretty younger girl writing these words in her new pretty pink diary. This site has almost no other people in it at the present time. There is, over on our left, site 5, a camper, but no one is at home right now. Across the street from us, on site 1, is an older man and his wife. He is really nice too. His name is Harold and he came over and gave us some kerosene soaked kindling wood and a box of water proof matches so that, if we wanted to get a fire going, we'd be able to. He even told us how to build it to make sure that it will light and work right. I think he just likes being around young girls. Sharon really teased me a lot after Harold left. Let me try and explain to you, why she did that okay? You see, Sharon knows that I have envied her for being able to wear dresses, for as long as I can even remember. Sharon knew that, and Sharon encouraged it. Ever since I can remember, Sharon has enjoyed having me for a sister. But, it was also our very closely guarded secret. No one knew about me wearing her dresses whenever she would baby sit me. She always babysat me when my parents left us alone. No one knew that I almost always wore silk panties under my boy's outerwear. No one knew that I always wore lacy dresses and spent all my time playing with my sister's pretty dolls, at every chance that I got to do so. Neither did anyone know that my sister had a special section of her closet, for my dresses. These were the clothes that she had out grown, that I had grown into. When ever my mom wanted to throw them out, Sharon was always found a reason for keeping them, without betraying our secret. So, I always had my own girl's ward robe to wear, that fit me perfectly. Sharon knew some of the girlish boys at school, and she knew that they also had a very, very hard time of it at the school. So, she helped me learn how to act like a boy at school, and she taught me and encouraged me to act like her little sister while I was at home. But it was secret. Sharon, as far as we knew, was the only person alive who had ever seen me dressed as Brenda. She was the only person who ever called me Brenda. Sharon now thought that it was time to change that situation. Our parents left for a three and a half week business trip about three days ago and they agreed that Sharon was responsible enough to leave in charge of her little brother, while they were away. I was delirious. I knew that this would be the first time in my life that I would be able to do things the way real girls do them. I could go to bed one day, sleeping in a night gown, after I had taken off the dress I had worn all day long, and then when I awoke, be able to put on new dress or skirt to wear for the next day. I knew to, that I'd be able to sleep in Sharon's room, sharing just a wee bit more, the joys and intimacy of the privileged life of being a girl. I knew that I would not have to wear any boy's clothes at all, not even for even one long minute of this summer vacation time. I could experience being a real girl. I was ecstatic about the idea. Little did I realise that Sharon too had been thinking of having a little sister around for three weeks. As we had known about the pending trip for nearly a month, she'd had a lot of time to formulate her ideas and her plans. I got my breasts and my waist nipper because she had time to plan my girlhood for me. I had not even suspected what her plan was. Her plan was, simply this. No one ever knew that I loved being a girl, because we had always kept it in secret. And because we were terrified of me ever being exposed as a fairy, I had never been outside of the house, while I was dressed up as Brenda. My sister had made the decision that I should get to experience what it was really like, to have the whole world treat me like I was a pretty girl. She was pretty sure that I would never agree to her idea of masquerading me as a real girl in public, because of this intense fear that I had of being discovered. She was also aware that I had an absolute and complete lack of confidence in my feminine persona. I'd only been a girl at home, after all. She was right. I would never have agreed to do it, if she had told me her plans. The first day that our parents left, Sharon insisted that I make myself as completely as girlish as I could be. She found that I did not want to resist her. Within two hours of their leaving, I'd become hairless, not that I had massive amounts of body hair anyway. I had also luxuriated in a steamy flowery scented bubble bath. I had also dressed to the nines. This also included the rare pleasure of wearing jewellery, make-up and perfume. She'd taught me all about makeup, but I never had the chance to use it very often. This was the enticement that she used to get me to agree to let her help me into the waist nipper and to let her glue the pretty little breasts onto my chest. She did not tell me that in order to remove them, that there was a special chemical that I'd have to use, and that I could not take them off with out it. That was when she showed me the crotch apparatus that she'd made for me. I was nearly delirious when I stood in front of the mirror that first time, looking at my flat feminine crotch in my silken panties. Even though I had a very painful hard on, my pantied crotch looked just like any other girl's crotch, in her panties. This just had to be one of the most dear and exciting moments of my short life to date. I saw the way the delicate lace trimming of the bra cups caressed my new slight bulges, and how the now full cupped bra forced the bulges on my chest. I saw the newly thinned waist line, and the really flat belly that gave me the curves of a girl, curves that I had envied my sister for having. I saw the way the silk slip draped over my new girlish curves, when I lowered the lingerie down over my head. I sat and applied the makeup, the perfume, and then adorned myself with the jewellery. After an hour, I went to the closet and tried on a dress that she had just given me. Because it was so pretty, Sharon had not allowed me to wear it before. But that morning, it was in my section of her closet. I exhilarated at the loudly rustling crinolines as I raised the light green satin knee length dress over my head, and let slowly lower down over me, enveloping me in it's utter femininity. If one could ever get addicted to wearing girl's clothes, then this dress could be the cause of my addiction. I was utterly girlish in it. This feeling of being pretty and feminine was addictive to me. I adjusted the puffy effeminating sleeves, and slid up the zipper, in the back. I knew that it would not have looked or fit right without the new breasts I now had. I also knew that it was tight enough around the elasticised waist, that without the new waist nipper, I would never have been able to do up the zipper. It would not have fit me the way that it did without these new additions to my ward robe that my loving sister Sharon had just given me. The waist nipper was so tight that it was like a vice about my waist. But when I saw what I was able to look like in this dress, I was glad that I had laid on the bed and let her lace up the laces in the back as tightly as she did. At the time though, I was sure she was trying to kill me. For the first time in my entire short life, I knew that I looked like a lovely if not sexy young lady. I stepped into high heeled shoes and sat at the vanity, waiting for Sharon to come to dress my hair. I felt every inch like a young lady. It had taken me about three hours to get so completely girlified. It was all worth it though, as I saw my reflection and I experienced feeling so feminine. I had never ever been allowed to get so completely girlish looking before, and I was enjoyably thrilled. I was so completely engrossed with this experience of my utter effemination, and the ensuing examination of my girl self, that I really had no idea of what Sharon had been up to while I was so engaged. I had not even given her much of a thought, to be entirely honest with you. When she came up the stairs and entered the room, I stood up for her. With a loud rustling of my crinoline slips, I curtsied to her, as prettily as I could, in just exactly the way that she had taught me to curtsy. When she saw me, her eyes lit up and she clapped her hands in glee, at the vision "of loveliness she had created," (her words) that I made. She soon had my hair swept up in the back, and falling in a big wave to over my left ear. She pinned it and sprayed it and teased it, and all the while she chattered on and on about what a gorgeous and foxy little chick I made. She talked about how every guy on the street would have a hard on in his pants for me, if they could see me now. I told her I wished she wouldn't talk like that, as it made me feel kind of uncomfortable. She chided me, telling me that if I was going to be a girl, I had better get used to being foxy, and to making the guys, as hard as I could, because, that was why we girls got as pretty as we did. She told me that if I ever expected to be a girl, I had better get used to the way that real girls talked about guys. And, if I did not want other girls to think I was queer or something that I had better learn how to be like and to talk just exactly like a real normal girl. She also said that at my age, that meant talking all about guys. She said that was 99% of what girls my age talked about. While my mind was on that taboo subject, she very quickly, before I could lodge my resistance to her actions, had pierced my ears and inserted the studs. I had shiny diamond studs reflecting prettily from my lobes. If I had not thought they were cute and so delicately beautiful, I would have been angry at her. But, it did make me feel just that much more of a girl, actually. I think she knows me better than I know myself. I spent the rest of that day dressed in what I came to think of as my princess dress. It made me feel like was a princess albeit a "fairy princess". Sharon kept taking many more photographs of me, and every once in a while, I would find that she was focusing the video camera on me as well. I loved it. I guess that I a.m. a natural born starlet, Tee Hee Hee. At the end of this wonderful day, I wore a sheer pink baby doll pyja.m.a set to bed. Not only that, but I slept like a girl in Sharon's bed, with her that night to. She thought I would feel more like a girl, sleeping in a girl's room. She was right to. But that was only the beginning awakenings of my newly realised girl self. And, for the first time in my life, Sharon started kissing me, and caressing my girlified form. She played with my little rock hard cock right through my panties. I could do nought by lay there passively, feeling every inch a girl. After driving me almost nuts with pleasure, she showed me how to masturbate a girl. I had never seen a girl orgasm before. When I saw the way she just lay on her back and gave herself over to the sensations caused by my probing fingers, I envied what she was able to feel. I wished that it could be me that could have fingers inside of me like that. Then, she told me to pretend that I was the girl, and that she was my boy friend. She caressed my breasts, kissed my lips and eyes, ran her hand down inside the back of my panties, causing me to feel sensations that I did not know were possible for me to feel. Then she masturbated me by touching me in the same way that she told me that the guys liked to touch girls. I could not help it. I never would admit it to her, but as she was touching me, bringing me to the wildest orgasm that had ever shaken my body. All the while, she was talking to me, and telling me what a guy does with a girl that he likes. I wished that for a moment that she really had been a guy. In my mind, she was my boy friend, for a few minutes. It just seemed so natural, somehow. I wanted to be a girl. I was sorely ashamed of the thoughts I had let go freely through my mind, after she made me climax, and I was glad that I had not confessed to her what my thoughts had been. I did not want to be a faggot. I just liked the feeling I had, when I dressed up like a girl, and that was all I wanted to do. I did not like the scenes of being a girl with a guy that had been coursing through my imagination when she was caressing me and talking to me, telling me what boys always wanted to and liked to do, to sexy young girls. My slept was peppered with vivid dreams of me being a girl, and in most of the dreams, I was a girl and I was with a cute boy from my home room class at school. I was able to be Brenda for all the next day to. All day long, Sharon kept telling me how pretty I was, and how I just had to have the guts to try going outside and living like a normal girl lives, at least once in my life. Under her constant prodding influence, and the excitement that wearing such pretty clothes for such an extended period of time gave me, I finally agreed to let her take me outside the next day. The next day came too quickly, and was now, this morning. It was only an hour ago that she told me about the glued on breasts were unremovable and that she had packed no boy's clothes at all. So, if I wanted to stop being a girl, I would have to steal some clothes from a boy. But, even then, I'd still have breasts and that I would have breasts till we got back home again. So, she even counselled me to relax and enjoy being treated the way all pretty girls get to be treated. She confided that she knew that I was going to love getting treated the way that all pretty girls get treated. I found I was truly and literally trapped by my own feminine compulsions, and now I had no alternative but to be the most convincing girl that I could be. I soon learned that while I had been dressing myself with such an abandonment as a girl, that first morning, that Sharon had been busy packing and stowing all of our supplies for this camping trip that she had planned for us. So, as I started to explain before, that is what led up to her teasing me about Harold. Harold was the first person, aside from Sharon, who had ever seen me as a girl. He was also the first person, aside from Sharon that ever called me Brenda. When he came over, he smiled, like men do, when they are addressing pretty girls, and he had offered us his assistance. Sharon took my hand and forced me to follow her out of the dining tent, and she told him her name, and then told him that I was her little sister. I could not escape it. If I did not act like a girl, I could be in deep trouble. I liked knowing that I had no more choice in the matter. He smiled charmingly at us and asked us a few questions. And, some of them, I had to answer because he had asked them directly of me. I stood there acutely aware that he was seeing the feminine curves and the flat pubes of a teen aged girl, as I stood there, in my tight form enhancing pink overalls. As I'd often seen girls do, I cocked one foot out to the side, and folded my arms under my new breasts, and hoped that I was convincing to him. I do not remember what he talked about, because I was so scared, and terrified that he would see how badly I was shaking. If he noticed that, he might be able to figure that there was something wrong with me. He did see that I was shaking, and he suggested that in that kind of damp mountain weather, that a delicate outfit such as I was wearing should be supplemented by a warm sweater, or I would not just have a case of the shakes, but a serious sickness. I smiled at him, and like a polite young lady, I thanked him for his concern. I promised to put a sweater on right away. I shrugged into a pink long sleeved wool sweater as he walked back across the road to his own camp site, and then I had to endure listening to Sharon imitate him, as she repeated some of the kind words that he had said to me. She got her point across. I had to just get used to the fact that for this week anyway, people were going to treat me like a pretty if not weak minded young girl. And I would have to learn to react to it in the same way that girls learned to react, or maybe I might cause myself some real trouble and other problems. If I had to admit it to Sharon, I'd have to thank her for forcing me into my girlhood for the next week. I kind of like knowing that being a girl is not my choice now, it was the only option that I had. If I didn't want to get seriously beat up or something, I'd better be the most convincing young lady that I was capable of being... 7:30 p.m. I was just not able to resist it any longer, so Sharon just took me to the first ladies bath room that I've ever been in. It is up the hill and around a corner to the left from our site. I felt strange walking over to it. Most of the people who saw us, smiled and greeted us. I knew that they knew that I was going to a girl's public bathroom. I knew that they were seeing a girl in me, doing what a normal girl does. All the stalls were made of this beautiful pine panelling. The room smelled of the musty damp mountain air. It was what can only be described as rustic, in appearance. The only difference between it and the boy's wash rooms that I was used to being in, is that there is no urinals. And there was extra sinks and mirrors. I felt funny knowing that I was really a boy, as I sat and peed like a girl pees, while in a girl's bath room. I also liked knowing that this circumstance is forced on me, for at least the next week. I looked around at the stall walls, wondering if I could ever feel normal in this place. As I left the washroom building, Sharon took a picture of me coming out of the door. I knew that the big word 'WOMEN' would be seen over my head when the photo was developed. I grinned, knowing that she was going to do these kinds of things to me, all this week. I would have a complete photo journal of my week as a girl. Back at the campsite, she teased me in a gentle way, and asked me how I had liked going into the girl's bath room instead of a boy's. All I could say that was I had really needed to pee badly. She giggled and went back to her book. 9;45 p.m. The family to the left of our campsite just came back. There is an older man, the father maybe, the mother and what looks like a younger woman and her husband, and two teenage boys who are being kind of loud. The boys are constantly looking over this way, with a lot of interest. I shudder to think that a boy is looking at me as though I was really a desirable teen aged girl, but I kind of like having the interest paid to me to. I hope that I am not going queer. Sunday August 11 1991 11:30 a.m. We decided to go into South Colton to have our breakfast this morning. Boy was I scared out of my wits, as I walked into Smiley's Country Kitchen, the little hole in the wall local diner that you would expect to find in a small rural town. Sharon insisted that since it was Sunday, that we should both wear skirts if we were going to be in public. I love wearing skirts, even if I have never worn one in public before, so I did not resist her suggestion. I have on a white silk blouse that is thin enough so that my lacy bra and slip straps are clearly visible through it, and I am wearing a kind of short white pleated skirt. I also have a wide red plastic belt around my waist, that really draws attention to the sliminess of my waist line. I feel pretty, even though I am scared shitless. The restaurant was mostly full, and it was very obvious that it was mostly local people who were the patrons. The main room had two large round tables, where people got up and left, and others took their places, in a continual stream of diners. We sat in a kind of little alcove at the front of the diner, seated right in the front window. This was my very first time being out in a public room dressed as Brenda. I was so scared that someone would see a boy in the clothes that I was wearing. I hurried to the table, in the hopes that no one would notice me or my sister. Little had I understood the attraction power that pretty young girls have for people in general, men in particular. Since most of the patrons were men, and we looked like we were young pretty girls, that was not too likely to happen, that we could escape a lot of attention. Many friendly smiles were directed to us as we made our way across the room, and sat down in the alcove. True, I was as skittish as a kitten, but I was thankful for that crotch piece that Sharon had made for me. I found that just doing something that any normal girl does, was giving me one glorious erection in my pretty silk panties. I loved being taken for being a girl. That is always the way it had been with me. It is not that I love being a boy that is wearing girl's clothes that excites me so much, though that is a true statement. That is not really it at all. What really excites me is that I am a boy, but I that I am being allowed to do something that only normal girls do. Not only am I being allowed to do it, but I know that I am expected to act like a girl, and gawd alone knew what would happen to me, if I did not act like a real girl. I loved it. It is the experiencing of being and doing normal feminine things, that normal girls do without a second thought, that so turns me on. I hoped my panties would not split at the crotch, as I found that being a girl in a public place was a very, very terribly exciting experience for me. Sharon kept smiling at me, because she knew the discomfort and yet, the secret bliss that I was feeling at the moment. Our breakfasts took a long time in coming. When they finally came, they were so plentiful that I knew that with my waist nipped in the way that it was, I'd never be able to eat it all. Sharon did not have that problem and attacked my plate as well as hers. While we ate, the owner of the diner came out of the kitchen and started to read out a poem that a visiting patron had written, as he had stopped for his breakfast at this diner, the morning before. He apparently had been just passing through the town, and while he was eating, he had written down his impressions of the place. After se read the poem, they started making plans to make a nice frame for it, and hang it over the bar on the wall. From the way they talked, the man had only been there for twenty minutes, but every one could remember where he sat and what he had looked like. I knew that if they could remember him, then they would be able to describe the two girls that had come in, just as accurately, tomorrow morning. I blushed as I thought of the image that I presented to them. Sharon told me to go to the bath room before we got back into the car. Blushing profusely, I rose and gracefully, without too much swish in my stride, walked over towards the door sign that said "Wash Rooms." I looked for the door with the girl on it, and went inside. It was very rustic, very small, and not really clean either. I did have to pee really badly. I went into the stall and raised my skirt, lowered my panties and did what I had come in to do. On the way out, I checked the mirror for my makeup, such as it was early on a Sunday morning. I nervously glanced up, as I came out of the room. Almost all of the guys were watching me. They knew I had gone into a girl's bathroom to do a girl's thing in there. Feeling like everyone was looking at me, I lowered my eyes demurely to the floor, and made my bashful way back to the table. Sharon wanted us to stay for a second cup of coffee. After a few more minutes, a young family came in to the diner. The woman caught my eye, partly because of my envy of her. She was a pretty blond wearing a pair of tight blue jeans and a casual loose fitting but becoming white linen blouse. She had a pretty baby in her arms. Her husband was kind of tall and thin, with a thick black shadow, showing where his beard would be if he did not shave soon, and a mass of curly black hair. He wore blue jeans and a red plaid lumberjack jacket. I could not help but to notice that he had thick knotted muscles in the backs of his big hands. He must be a very strong man. I watched the woman as she settled her baby into a high chair that was brought and placed beside her. Then she greeted all of her friends who were already seated around the table. I could tell that she seemed to really like her husband, from the way she was treating him. She very often reached over to touch his forearm and smile at him. She was very attentive to her baby's needs also. I could not help but to wonder what she felt like as she lived her daily life. I was half willing to trade places with her, so that I could be her. I found that I was envying her for her life style. With a start, I realised that if I was her, that I would do exactly as she did. She did his laundry and took care of his baby, cooked his meals and then she probably crawled into bed every night, and gave him a good reason to have come home to her bed. I looked at him, and found myself wondering what he looked like, lying naked in a bed. He was probably all covered in black hair. I shuddered with the shame of my thoughts. I was actually envying this woman, and knowing that if I could trade places with her, that I would have. I knew that I would have also given him a reason to be glad that he had come home to lie in my bed at night, just as his loving wife did for him. I had to somehow make myself stop thinking such queer thoughts, I knew, or I would really end up in trouble. What if I could never stop myself from thinking about men like a girl does? When it was time to leave, Sharon took out some money to pay the bill, and left it with the bill on the table. The bill was for a few dollars, and she had taken out a twenty. Then she smiled at me and told me to go and pay the bill. I knew that I had to do it, as she quickly got up and left me sitting there in the restaurant. I picked the money up and walked over to where the cash register was. I was acutely aware of every male eye on my naked legs below my short skirt hem, and on my pert little tits. One guy even made some funny joke, but I was too far away from his table to hear what it was that he had said. The older lady who seemed to own the place heard him though. "Jack Morgan, you just keep your tongue to yourself." She turned to me with a motherly kind of smile. "You don't pay any attention to the likes of him, Honey. He just gets a bit carried away sometimes. You see, the way he is, he don't got to see pretty girls very much." I could tell from the reaction to her words that she had made some kind of joke about Jack Morgan, but I did not understand what it was. His friends laughed at his rebuff though. I smiled, trying to convey to her that I was used to having men ogle me, but that it still made me shy. When we got back to the campsite, Harold and his wife had left already. The family next door were packing up as well. They wanted to know if we would like some kindling wood and some paper for starting our camp fires. It turned out that they also had quite a bit of split wood that they did not want to take back with them. Sharon said that we would need it, and she wanted to go over and get it. The older man insisted that his sons could bring it over to us. He said that there was no reason for us to dirty our pretty little hands, when he had tow strapping boys who would be very willing to do this for us. This was a strange feeling to experience for me, to stand passively idly by, watching someone do something for me. Sharon kept grinning at me as the younger of the two boys made a point of saying something to me every time he brought another armload of fire wood over. He had a shiny earring in his left earlobe, and he was nice. Now, we find that we are all alone in this section of the campsite. The only person we see is the security man as he makes his bi-hourly rounds, to make sure that no one is causing us any trouble. I am also walking more than I have ever walked in my life. Sharon keeps dragging me off to the various loops, to see what the camps and the big RV campers look like. She teases that she is really looking to see what the young men campers look like. She keeps teasing me that she is going to get me a boyfriend, whether I like it or not. I hate to admit it, but something deep inside of me wishes that she really could. She says that if you want to attract a guy, you have to advertise your presence, and so, she walks through the loops a lot. Really, except for reading and writing, there is not much also to do here anyway. We can swim, but the weather has not been warm enough for that yet. We can't sun bathe as it is overcast today, and every once in a while, we get a little sprinkling of rain. I find it's fascinating under the pines, because, you do not get all the rain that is coming down. I guess the boughs, so high overhead catch the rain and it runs down the trunks of the trees, instead of falling on our heads. Monday August 12 1991 1:30 p.m. Today is the first half decent weather we have gotten since we set up our tents on Saturday. There were a lot of clouds early on, but the sun keeps shining through, enough that the air has really warmed up during the day. It got warm enough that, for the first time in my life, I actually went for a swim while wearing a girl's swim suit, at a public beach. It was absolutely just a fantastic experience. Sharon wore a bright day glow pink bikini, trimmed in a lovely delicate white lace. She is just such a knockout in it. If I was a guy, at last not the kind of guy I am at the present time, but like a regular boy, I'd be all over her. She is one very foxy young lady. Sharon tells me that I am a fox too, but I don't really believe her. I think she is just trying to make me feel less conscious of her looks. My swim suit is a pretty one piece. It has to be a one piece, with the back high enough to hide the waist nipper that I am so tightly laced into. The corset goes nearly half the way up my back. My suit is a beautiful pale blue satin, a light azure blue colour. The neck string tie up behind my neck in a bow, leaving the top half of my back and all of my shoulders bare. It also has a wee satin bow at the bottom of the V neck line. It is the same suit Sharon used to wear two years ago. My breasts fill the smallish cups very nicely. With the flat cinched in waist that I have, my hips look much wider than they really are. Also accentuating my hips, is a little six inch frill, sort of like a very short skirt, around my lower part of my suit. Just a few minutes before I went down onto the beach, I had passed myself in the full length mirror in the ladies change room. At the first glance, I hadn't even recognised my own refection. For a moment, I actually wondered who that foxy young chick was, when I first saw my own reflection. When it dawned on me that I was seeing my own self in the glass, I silently prayed and just hoped that everyone else who saw me, would also think the same thing about me, the same as what I had thought for that brief moment. Though it was the first really warm day since the weekend, we pretty well had the beach to ourselves. Because of the rainy weather, the whole campsite is nearly empty. That suits us (me) just fine. I find it nerve wracking enough to be walking on a public beach in a girl's bathing suit, without having a lot of people looking at me while I am doing it to. We spent about two hours at the beach, then headed back to our campsite. Sharon is absolutely amazed that I am still not confident of being a girl. We returned to our campsite around four o'clock. The next site to ours, number 5, had became one of the few occupied ones in our loop, while we were down at the beach. There beside our site, sits a large 4 wheel drive camper truck, with a long canoe on the top of it, and the new family. Their father is in a wheelchair. His wife flits around taking care of everything. There are also three teen aged boys, we noted. They look like the are about 17, 15 and 12 in ages. The two older boys just sat at the picnic table and stared at us, when they saw us coming back from the beach. It was a really quite a funny feeling for me. I've looked at girls in that manner before, and I know the kind of eerie mesmerising effect that a pretty girl can have on a boy. It is so very strange to know that it is me as a girl, who is doing the mesmerising now. It is not the other way around this time. It makes me feel kind of powerful, in a way. We walked and watched the boys. When we got back to the campsite. Sharon whispered at me, unceasingly going on and on about how cute the boys were, as we busied ourselves doing our normal house keeping chores. We were trying to look busy, trying to make them think that we were doing something else, than paying even the slightest attention to them. She giggled playfully, as she told me that the boys had to sit down, because they did not want their parents to see their hard ons. We tried not to notice as the middle aged of the boy gets on his bike and pulls the youngest boy by a tow rope. The youngest one is on roller blades, and his brother really causes him to move very fast, much to his delight. The oldest boy does not look like he really belongs to the family. They all have dark hair, while he has light blonde, almost reddish hair. He is pretty tall, about 5' 8". He is on the thin side, not really thin, but rather, more lithe and sinewy. Sharon likes him, I can tell. The next oldest of the boys is a bit shorter than the blond boy, maybe around 5' 6" tall. Even at 5' 6" though, he is still a bit taller than Sharon. She is 5' 4" 1/2" tall while I am a shrimpy one inch shorter than she is. Sharon kept teasing me till she finally made me admit to her that I did indeed, think that the two boys were cute. She was embarrassing me terribly, and she knew it. She just wanted me to be a real girl though. But that was all that I would say about what I thought about the boys. As it was, my face was burning and I blushed with very hot cheeks. I had never before in my life ever looked at a boy and thought of a boy as being cute. Now, I had. I could hardly believe that I had looked at those boys over there, and that I had actually thought of them as being cute guys. I was so embarrassed about my feelings. I was also getting more than a little worried about myself. Maybe I really was turning into a faggot after all? And that I had just not known it about myself before? I hoped that it was not true, but I had to admit to myself that I liked knowing that I was doing, saying and feeling the same kinds of things that real girls do. Life just seemed so unfair some times. It would have been so much simpler if I had just had the same hormones flowing in my blood, that my pretty sister had in hers. I'd love to have to live a real girl's life, because I was a real girl, not because I was forced to be one. I really hated the thought of having to live a faggot's life. I knew all the jokes about guys like that... Now I had to also say... Guys... Other guys who were just like me now. Guys who wore panties and dresses to feel pretty, and who thought about how cute other guys were. I hated to admit this truth to myself. As my mind dwelt on the thoughts of "guys like me...", I remembered the last guy like that, that I had heard about. It was in the high school locker room. As I remembered it, the whole scene replayed through my mind. About six guys were in there towelling off after showering, following a rigorous gym class. Suddenly one of the guys piped up loudly, saying, "Hey, did you hear that Rockdale High's got a new wrestler on their team? They say that though he is the smallest guy on the team, that he can't be beat, not by anyone. He's won every match he's ever been in." "Oh yeah? How's that possible?" "Well, they say he's a real pretty little fairy, a real swishy type you know... But there is no one who can beat him. You see, he's got a secret hold that he uses and no one knows how to counter it." "Oh yeah? What's it like?" "Yeah... What he does is he puts a lip lock on the love muscle. And guess what? No one wants to resist his hold, or counter it. So he beats everyone that way." I remembered the loud derision in the laughter as the guys caught on to the joke about the rival school's wrestling team. Now, there seemed to be a very real possibility, that kind of joke just might be made about me to. I shivered in my abhorrence of such a thought. Yet, I had to admit reality to myself. The fact was that I was sitting here, wearing my pretty sister's girl's clothing. The fact was, that I had just admitted to my sister that I had actually thought that a another guy was a cute boy. I also had to admit that I had just thought about the possibility that it might just be me who was the swish, in the locker room joke. With resolve, I tried to put these disturbing thoughts out of my mind. They were very uncomfortable thoughts indeed. What would my dad say, if he could look into my mind at that moment? Sharon grabbed my arm gently, shaking me out of my reverie, and told me it was time to go to the bath house for our showers. It was also time for a change of clothes. Meekly, I went with her. I hoped desperately that no one would find out that the brown haired girl in the women's shower stall, had a cock in her panties. Sharon had already gotten a bag full of fresh clothing and towels for us, with shampoos and all the other stuff that we would need. As we walked the half mile to the bath house, she also told me that it was time for me to have to spend a bit of time shaving my legs again. She reminded me that I had to keep them silky smooth and hairless at all times, in order to avoid any kind of suspicion, and to make the guys look at my legs. We arrived at the bath house, and we were pleased to find that no one else was there. I went into a stall and very carefully shaved my legs, my arms, my under arms and my chest, all around my breasts but not my face. I still had almost no hair on my chest, and had not yet started to shave my face yet, so I did not have that problem to deal with, but Sharon told me to do it anyway. It had always been a source of merriment for my friends that at my age, that my face was still as prettily hairless and soft as any girl's face. Now, for the first time in my life, I was really glad for this fact of my life. When I was done, Sharon helped me dry myself and then she helped me gather my hair back into one of her banana clips. It was a bright yellow clip. She checked my ears to make sure that there was no infection in the newly pierced lobes, and was pleased to report that I had no infections. She gave a fresh pair of panties and a matching bra that were of white satin trimmed with delicate pink lace. They were so pretty, that I nearly swooned at the thought of being allowed to wear them. These, I put on as quickly as was possible for me to do so. I did not want anyone coming in and seeing me half dressed, lest they discover that I was not a real girl. But I just could not resist taking a moment to enjoy the wave of girlishness that washed over me, as I thought of myself being able to wear such delicate and pretty under things. As it was very hot out, and since we were camping, I did not have to wear a slip. The dress that Sharon gave me to wear was a dusty rose colour. The dress was a very loose fitting garment that had a sash tie at the back. She tied it very loosely in a big floppy bow. I stepped into a pair of white leather single crossed strapped low heeled skimmers. I felt almost naked, as the closed were so very skimpy. But girls dressed like this all the time in the summer. It was normal attire for a pretty girl who was seeking to announce her availability. Sharon was determined that I should experience all that real girls do. Sharon had put on a loose see through white shirt with tight bright red satin short shorts. She also wore a pair of white leather, X strapped skimmers. Our daily ablutions done, we headed back to our campsite. Because the weather had turned out so nice, we took the long way around. That also meant that we would have to pass by in front of the boys next door to our campsite, on our way home. As we walked by, we noticed that they had hung a sign out on a tree, advertising that the family name was Nicholson. Mrs. Nicholson was overtly friendly and she smiled warmly as we neared their site. She asked us if we were staying long. We stopped to chat for a while and she warned us that their boys had been watching us very closely. She told us that we should expect them to come and visit us. She giggled girlishly. Just as she was telling us that, the two older boys were just returning to the campsite. They bought up the opportunity to get to know us by quickly engaging us in a light conversation about the town of Canton. We were vaguely familiar with the town, as we had passed through it on our way to South Colton. From what I remembered, it was a very pretty little "Anywhere, USA" kind of town. They invited us over to play cards with them later that night, and Sharon agreed for us. I knew from the look in her eye that it would be better for me, not to disagree with her. I knew that she wanted to get to know that older boy. I suspected that she wanted me to get to know the younger one in the same manner as she wanted to know the older one too. I was nervous and scared, and on pins and needles for the next three hours. I knew that it would do no good to try and talk Sharon out of it. Finally the time arrived. It was finally the time to go over to the campsite next door to us. She teased me about going on my first date, which did not help me to relax at all. Mr. and Mrs. Nicholson had left to go and to do some grocery shopping in Canton. They had taken the youngest son with them. So there was only the two older boys and us. Sharon looked so hot in those satin shorts, that I knew the boys would have hard ons for her. Boy was I ever scared. I had never been in this situation before and I really did not know how to act. We sat at the picnic table, boy beside girl, facing each other. We had been right in our guess about Danny, the oldest boy. He was not a family member. The oldest son, Chris was 16. Chris was sitting beside me, a wee bit too close for my comfort. We started to play gin rummy, and soon we found, including me, that we were laughing and joking at almost every little thing that happened or was said. It was stupid and insane, but it was fun. I had to admit to myself that it really was very different being treated like a girl, by guys. They do not treat girls like they treat other guys at all. It's like everything they do is geared to try to please the girl, and try to win her approval of them. Guys just wanted to show each other how good they were at things. I'd never been treated so favourably before. Usually I was sort of scorned for being so small, and for being some what girlish. I'd never ever been really accepted without a hard trial of having to compete and prove myself to the other guys first. Now, much to my amazement, all that I had to do was to titter like an empty headed girl, and I was accepted. I was not only accepted, but Chris was trying very hard to make me like him. I loved it to. For example, I found that Chris was trying to be very sensitive to just about anything that would cause me to not like him. And, he was going out of his way to make sure that I was happy. If I wanted a drink, he'd jump up to go and get it. I mentioned that I was hungry, and Chris ran to the camper to get us Cokes and chips. I liked having this kind of influence over a guy, and, I flirted just a little to see what girls could do to guys. I was quite pleased and surprised that Chris seemed to be so reactive to just about everything that I did. Actually, I found that I laughed a lot as they were trying hard so very hard to get us girls in a good mood. We really did have a lot of fun. We even agreed to meet the boys the next morning to go for a swim. Once I had gotten into my pyjamas, and was settling into my sleeping bag, Sharon began teasing me about all the ways that she had noted that I was teasing and flirting with Chris. She told me that I was acting a just exactly like a boy crazed thirteen year old teeny bopper. I did not think so, and I argued with her about it. I had not realised that I was being such a flirt, but, as she reminded me of the little very girlish type of things that I had done and that I had said, I did realise that Sharon had been right. I had been acting like a boy crazy teeny bopper. It must have been because of my nervousness about being a girl with a boy, we decided. I promised her that I would try to cool it from now on. I did admit to her that I did have a lot of fun being treated like a cute girl. I also admitted to my sister that I had more fun being treated as a girl, than I could ever remember having had as a boy in the same kind of situations. Tuesday August 13 1991 1:00 p.m. I have just finished washing the dishes after our light lunch of salad and grilled hamburgers, which I had cooked on the open camp fire. I had thrown some pine cones into the fire and they seemed to make a nice flavour to the meat. I'm alone doing the clean up, as Sharon has gone off with Danny, for a walk around loops E and F. Danny thinks that he has some hometown friends staying there, and wanted Sharon to meet them. The Nicholsons had left early this morning again, leaving their dad to sit in his wheel chair alone. He reads a lot. He and I talked a bit as I fussed about our campsite. I had to strain my voice a bit as we talked back and forth across the open space between our campsites, but it was okay. He told me that he was a teacher in a local high school. He seems to like being alone a lot. He also seems to not be upset about his having to spend his time in a wheelchair. His obsession is hockey, and he told me that both of his sons, and Danny attend hockey schools. He promised that if I wanted to come to a game, all I had to do was to just let him know, and he would get us free tickets. I said I would tell Sharon, and maybe we would take him up on his offer sometime. I spent the next hour just laying around in the lounger, soaking up the rays, as they say. It feels so funny knowing that every person who walks by our campsite is convinced that I am a pretty young girl. I love it. Everyone is so much friendlier with young girls than they are with young boys, and like liked being liked so much. I also took the time to paint my toenails a shinny bright rose pink. That of course meant that I would also redo the nails on my fingers as well, to pass the time. I loved knowing that everyone could see me doing such typically feminine things, things that boys would not be caught dead doing. I especially loved knowing that they also thought that it was perfectly normal for me to be doing things like that. We did actually go swimming with the boys that morning, around 10:30. This was an entirely new experience for me. I love the way my girl's swim suit feels on my body. It is tight and pulls and exerts pressures where a boy's suit doesn't. I love the feeling of it, especially when I dive. I just love the way the neck ties seem to strain against my skin as I move in the water. I can feel the water pull at my suit, all over where my suit touches my skin. I love the feel of it. It is so very sensuous. Also, for the very first time in my life, I have held a boy's hand today, in the same kind of way that girls will hold a boy's hand. Chris, wanting to show off about how brave he was, to get wet in the cool water, grabbed my hand and half dragged me into the water with him, till we were nearly up to our necks. I could not resist the playful screams as the cold water shocked my nervous system, as he dragged me after him. I tried desperately tried not to get my hair wet, but he dunked me anyway. He dunked me, just enough to get my hair wet, then, he pulled me up to the surface again. As he pulled me up to my feet, he also pulled me against his body. I became acutely aware that I was there, standing beside a nearly naked boy, who wanted to keep holding me as close to him as he could. I was also quite surprised at how strong he is for such a sinewy looking boy. Chris, I very quickly realised, was certainly a lot stronger than I am, even if I had wanted to act like a boy. I managed to extricate myself from his grip on me and swam out to the raft. I will admit it, okay? When I was standing in front of him like that, and he was holding me in a sort of loose embrace, it really did turn me on. I found that I wondered what it would feel like to have him kiss me. I found that I liked it when I had inadvertently put my hands up and I had touched his flat hard muscled chest. I liked the feel of his hairy legs as they brushed against mine under the surface of the water. I had even liked it when one of his knees intruded itself between my legs for a brief second or two. It was only because I was so very ashamed of those erotic feelings and thoughts that were ripping and tearing their way through my psyche, that I had fought to escape his embrace, and to swim away from him, out to the raft. I was a boy. I was not supposed to feel things like this, and I was certainly not supposed to like the way these feeling felt either. I desperately wished that I was a real girl so that I could behave like a real girl with him. Yet this desire caused me to be torn with guilt to, because, I knew that I was still a boy under all the dainty prettiness. None the less, Chris had followed me out to the raft, however. I felt a strange kind of power to know that I could make a guy follow me around like a lost little puppy dog. It was kind of cute, in a way. When we got to the raft, it seemed like he was doing things just to try and prove to me how strong he was. For example, once we got to the raft, he was constantly picking me up and throwing me out into the water. Then he would grab my wrists and hoist me out of the water, back up onto the raft. Each time that he pulled me out of the water, he managed to pull me up against him into his arms, so as to steady my balance, so that I would not fall or trip. Every time he did that, I became very acutely aware of the feel of his hairy soft skin on my very hairless girlish skin. It did not take me too long to realise that he was being macho for me, trying to impress me with how masculine that he was. I let him know that I did not really like having him throw me around like that, and he stopped it immediately. I was finding out that it is a delightful thing, the way a small girl can control a boy who is so much bigger and stronger than she is. I loved it. It was the fairer sex that ruled the world, after all. I let myself act in a bit of a pouty way, complaining about how hard the raft was to get comfortable on. Chris asked me if I wanted him to go to the beach and get me a towel to lay on. I wanted to see if he would, so I said I would like that, and smiled warmly at him. He did not hesitate to dive into the water, swim to the beach, get my towel and brought it back to me. I could hardly believe that a guy would try so hard to please a girl. I could hardly believe that any guy would try so hard to be in my good graces, that he would bend over backwards for me, the way Chris was doing. Okay, I admit it. Being a girl has got a lot of advantages to it, at least as far as boys go. Anyway, that was how I spent the morning. Now, I am faced with having to ask to myself the big question, "Am I really a fairy?'' The facts are that I very definitely prefer to wear frilly delicate soft girl's clothes. I am certainly finding that I just love being able to put a guy through the hoops for me, like the way I had gotten Chris to swim all the way to the beach just to get me a towel. I can not even remember how much I hated the feeling of rejection, when I had tried to act like that for a girl, and she would just ignore me. The shoe was on the other foot however, and it was a very nice foot to. I had to admit that I had really liked the feel of his skin touching mine. I also had to admit that I had really wanted Chris to kiss me. I had gotten a hard on, as I had stood in front of him, when he had first pulled me up after dunking me, and he had pulled me into his arms. I had loved the way I felt when, for just a brief moment, I had been leaning against his chest. But, would I be able to really face myself, knowing that all those filthy names and those crude jokes about effeminate boys, would now also apply to me? With a start, I realised that I had been only playing being a girl so far. If I was serious about experiencing all that girls get to experience, I would have to let Chris kiss me. I'd also have to do more than that. Sharon told me that she does not know one single girl at her school who does not regularly suck off her boyfriend. She says it is the only way for us girls to be able to keep the guys happy, and still guarantee that they don't get ourselves pregnant. She told me that she has done it, and that she really likes sucking a big hard cock. She told me that it was one way to really feed a guy's ego. She said that they love to have a chick go down and suck them off. She told me that she also loves the sense of submission to a strong guy that she always feels, when she goes down on him, as well as the feeling of power that a chick has when his most vulnerable parts are in her mouth. I knew that. I knew how much she had liked it, because she had told me in detail how to suck a cock to make the guy really like her. And realised I might have to become a cock sucker for Chris, if I was to maintain my feminine identity. Would I really be able to do such a thing? Worse than that, I also realised, was that I must really be a queer if I was even willing to think those kinds of thoughts. Thoughts like those are just not the thoughts of normal guys. Of course, I was not exactly dressed in clothes that normal guys wears either, at the moment. I just lowered my hand to my thigh and tugged downwards at my skirt hem, as tho