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A Sissy Wife Penned by: Miss Deborah (Debi) Leigh Johnson aka Karenanne Brown One I had just set up an internet account with a local server, and I was exploring. I tried all manner of searches just to learn how it all worked, and I was pleased to suddenly find that there were very many adult oriented web pages, that led to other adult oriented web pages. Over the following four or five weeks, I continued to explore and I found some that I really liked. It was at this point, that I decided to take the plunge, so to speak. I looked for Lycos. Once I had it, I typed in the word "Transvestites" and punched the button. It took a few minutes, but then I had a list. I was astounded. I was not even sure that I would find any, but there was over six hundred. I scrolled through the pages, and one in particular excited me, catching my attention. It was for a Usenet group. I had learned enough to know that there were adult news groups, and I was really excited to find one that showed up under the transvestite search. I should explain that all of my life, right from my earliest moments, though I tried hard to not ever let anyone else know about it, I had been a sissy. I mean, I was a real sissy. Since the age of three, I would steal my sister's panties and wear them under my boy clothes. Whenever I got he chance to be alone, even if it was only for a couple of hours, I would put on a slip, dress, girl's socks and shoes, and I would sit in my sister's room, playing with her pretty dolls, feeling like I was being allowed to really be a girl for a while. I loved feeling like a girl. I loved it when I wore dresses. Wearing dresses made me feel petite, and dainty, and I loved those feelings. I loved the feel of soft silky lingerie. I loved the feeling of being pretty. I knew that I passed easily as a girl, because when I was fifteen, I worked up the courage, one weekend when I had been left alone for the whole weekend, to put on some of my sister's clothes, and to go for a walk around the block. Everyone I passed, smiled at me, and I had such a deep thrill, knowing that everyone who smiled at me, thought that they were smiling at a real girl. Passing myself off as a real girl was the most thrilling thing that I had ever done. I got so confident, that I went home, put on a dressier skirt, high heels and a lovely white silk see through blouse that showed off the pretty lace on my slip, and I walked down to the local teen hangout place. No one, not even my best friend recognised me. I was in seventh heaven. Guys kept hitting on me, and I found that I adored being the centre of their attentions. I loved being treated like a girl, a popular girl. It was just like heaven. I loved not having to pay for anything. This was really neat. The next morning, after spending the night sleeping in my sister's bed, wearing one of her night gown's, I worked up enough courage to dress up in a really pretty white lace dress, and go to a church for the morning service. I can not ever explain the joy that I felt as I sat in the pew, lace gloved hands folded on my pretty lap, gently holding my white kid skin clutch purse. One of the young guys even tried to put the move on me after the service. Over the next few months, I had to come to a number of realisations. One, I knew that I was only happy when I was wearing girl's clothes, or more precisely, I was only happy when I felt like a girl. That meant that I would have to find some kind of job that would allow me to wear girl's clothes, even if I could not wear dresses at the job. Two, I adored the way I felt, when boys tried to hit on me. I knew that this probably was a good indication that I was gay. After all, not many normal guys like wearing dresses and being hit on by guys. But I loved those experiences. So, if I did not want to be alone in life, I would have to find a boy friend who understood a girl like me, who would let me wear girl's clothes, and who would want me to act like a girl all the time. I was pretty sure that I could never find a girl who would like that. I would have preferred to have a girl friend, because I adored girls. I guessed that this was one of the reasons I wanted so much to be like a girl. I hoped that he would be the kind of guy that got really turned on by a feminine girl with a it of boy in her panties. In truth, the idea of being a girl with a bit of boy in my panties was a very intoxicating idea to me. Any way, to get on with the story. I loved being a chick, and chicks liked being with guys, so I figured that I must like being with guys to. It made sense to me anyway. I knew that I certainly had no problems with looking at guys, and appreciating which ones were better looking than the other ones. I certainly liked the way guys treated chicks, and they made me feel like a chick with the way that they treated me when I was dressed up. I loved the way I felt when a guy was coming on to me. I just never had the courage though, to actually present myself to a guy, in my feminine persona, so I actually ended up not having a boy friend or a girl friend. I liked girls, really liked girls, but I figured that I liked being treated like a girl by a guy, more than I would like being treated like a girl by another girl. At the time of this writing, I have turned 22 years old. I live in my own apartment. I wear nothing but pretty lingers for under wear, and I keep myself hairless. I wear girl's slacks and blouses a lot, actually most of the time when they can pass for guy's clothes, because I always try to look like a regular guy, so people will not make fun of me for being a fairy. I do not mind thinking of myself as a fairy, I just do not want everyone else to think of me that way. I have landed a really good job in the accounting department for a very large chain of department stores. I love the job. I also love the fact that the job requires me to travel a great deal. I like that. And when I do travel, I usually travel wearing skirts or dresses, as I find them far more comfortable to wear than tight restricting pants, on long drives. I get to spend most of my time in women's clothes, this way. Two But, getting back to my story, by surfing the net, I found out about the alt sex stories newsgroup. When I finally dared to punch the right buttons to get into it, I was amazed to see that there was a listing for alt sex stories trans and tg groups. I explored the tg group, and was delighted to find a number of stories written by people just like me, about the kinds of things that I was interested in. Then I went to the trans group. I decided to scroll down to the bottom, and work my way back, assuming that the ones at the bottom were the most recent entries. I nearly screamed in excitement, as I pulled up the very last entry. "Wanted by masculine man in late twenties, a very sissy TV wife. You will be a person who is feminine, who prefers to wear pretty clothes all the time, pass in public as a real woman, under 5' 9" tall and preferably not too fat. You must also have a passive or submissive streak in your personality. You will prefer to be my woman at all times, and act in a way that will make other guys jealous of me, because of you. At home, you will be all woman at all times. If you think you are such a girl, and you want to get married, and become my wife, write back to me. Mr. Stanley Morris" My hands shook as I wrote back a reply to his message. In it I explained what kind of person that I was. I did not hear from Stanley for nearly a week, a week in which I went nearly crazy. When I did hear from him, I was astounded to find that he lived in a city that was about an hour away from the small town that I lived in. We wrote back and forth to each other, and I was honest, with him, I explained my fears, and I got across to him the degree of my effeminate sissy nature. He finally told me that I sounded like the kind of girl that he wanted to meet. He made a date with me, gave me his address, and directions, and told me that he expected for me to show up at his apartment the following Friday evening at 8, as a girl. I was so scared, as I readied myself. It so happened that I was working in that city that day, so I would not have to worry about being fresh when I arrived at his place. I rented a motel room. I was able to spend some quality time in my lavender scented bath tub, and shave ever so carefully. I wanted to be a completely hairless girl for Stanley. I was on edge. I could hardly believe that I was finally going to meet what might be the man of my dreams. How would I feel, I wondered if he wanted to kiss me? How would I like it if he wanted to dance with me? What if her turned out to be some kind of freak, who wanted to tie me up and beat on me? Did I really have the courage to go to his house to meet him? I wondered if I would actually suck a cock, if he asked me to. I chose a pink chiffon dress that swirled noisily around my nyloned thighs in a most delightful feminine fashion. The bodice was satin, and the top of it was gauzy so that the bra and slip straps showed through it. I had loved this dress, ever since I had gotten it, because it just seemed to be so completely feminine. I had bought it in a second hand store, so I knew that a real woman had worn it before I had gotten a chance to wear it. That sort of made me feel even more womanly. I wore pink satin under wear. One of the reasons why I had chosen that particular dress was because of the way that the pretty skirt flared out. I did not want to bind my cockette up, because I wanted to feel it pressing against the loose fit of the one size too big soft satin panties, all night long. No matter how big and hard I got, I would never be discovered, because of the way my skirt flared out. Most of my skirts and dresses were this kind of style, for that very reason. I wore pink lace gloves, and a pink leather clutch purse, with my essentials in it. I put on silver earrings, finger rings, bracelets on my left wrist and a delicate silver wrist watch on my right wrist. I loved the way they looked when I would limp wristedly wave at my reflection in the mirror. Then I was ready. I was terribly nervous as I drove, following his instructions. Soon, with only a few minutes to spare, I parked in front of his apartment building. I felt so frail, so vulnerable, and ever so feminine, as I got out of the car, and went into the front lobby. I rang his buzzer, and was buzzed into the foyer. I found the elevators, and was soon exiting at the 16th floor. I liked being so high up. I knew that the view would be wonderful, if not romantic. The door with the 1625 on it opened at my first light rap. There he stood, Mr. Stanley. He was a good 5' 10" tall, thin but with a wide muscular chest. He had a small well trimmed moustache and goatee. His eyes were pale blue, and the pierced right into me. He made me feel very weak and exposed to him. His bright white even teeth appeared as he looked me up and down, and he smiled his welcome to me, stepping back from the door to let me enter. I knew from the look in his eyes, that I was pleasing to him. I walked in, and then turned to watch him close the door. "Miss Johnson, I presume?" His smile thrilled me. He made me feel like a fly in a spider's web, and it was nice. "Mr. Morris?" I gracefully executed a curtsy, which brought a wide grin to his face. I had often wanted to feel what it would be like to curtsy to a man, and I knew now that I liked the feeling of submission that I sensed, as I plucked up the hem of my skirt and bowed respectfully to him. I was acutely aware of the role that I was firmly positioning myself in. This man could never think of me as a real guy, not after such a pretty curtsy, I knew. "Well my Miss Johnson, please come in and be seated, and be comfortable. I will get you a nice glass of chilled white wine." I went into the sunken living room, and gracefully smoothed out my skirt as I sat, ankles crossed and knees together. I knew that I looked very pretty and feminine. I hoped that he would think that I looked like a little prissy miss. I placed my purse on my lap, enjoying the light pressure that its weight applied to the satin panties that I was wearing. This man really turned my crank. I had a real bad case of hard on, in my panties. He came back into the living room, handed me a glass of wine, which I gratefully accepted and began sipping, liking the light pink trace of my lip stick on the edge of the glass. It was a medium dry, just exactly the way that I liked it. I had not eaten, because I was too excited, and in seconds I was beginning to feel a light buzz from the wine. It was nice. We sat for a few moments, just enjoying the ambience and the wine, and I could feel his eyes devouring every aspect of my demeanour. He made me feel very feminine, and I loved it. I hoped that he liked me as much as I thought that he liked me. "So, you answered my advertisement, so you know that I am looking for a sissy TV wife?" "Yes sir..." "Do you know what being my sissy TV wife would entail, Miss Johnson?" "No. I don't... But I would like to know..?" "Well, I would want you to take care of my housework, do my laundry, be a loving and gentle companion to me, consoling me when I have had a rough day, and of course, I would expect for you to sleep in my bed, and do all the wifely duties that sleeping with a man entails. Have you ever slept with a man before?" "No." "I see. Have you ever sucked a cock before?" "No." "Well, then what makes you think you could like being a TV wife? I am not trying to be critical, I am just curious about why you would respond to my ad. Please, be as honest as you can be with me, okay honey?" "Uhhh... I like being a girl, and girls like being with guys, so I figure that I would like being with a guy to. You're ad really got me excited. I've been out in public with guys, but none of them ever knew what was in my panties. I liked the way that guys treated me, a lot more than the way they treated me as a guy. Because I liked it so much, I thought that I might like to go a step further, and see what it was like. The idea of living with a guy, while I am expected to wear girl's clothes all the time, and of being intimate with him, well it is all very exciting to me." "So honey, you believe that you would like live a life of taking care of a husband?" "Yes. I think that I would." "And, as my wife, you would sleep in my bed, and take care of me the way any other wife takes care of her husband?" "Yes. I think so... I don't really know, because I have never done anything like this before, but I think so?" "You would be expected to suck my cock whenever I asked you to? Could you handle that, honey?" "Yes. I think so? I do not really know, but I kind of like the idea?" "You would let me fuck you whenever I wanted to?" "I... I guess so? It is what wives do, eh?" "Would you like it if I called you names, like sissy wife, or sexy girl boy?" "I... I think that I would like it? I... I kind of like to hear things like that, if it is not done in public?" "Well, let's go out for dinner, and we can talk some more. Let's see how well you conduct yourself in public as a beautiful woman. You are a very beautiful woman, you know that Miss Johnson?" I blushed at his words, and I was too embarrassed to thank him for his compliment. And talk we did. We talked non stop throughout a very romantic dinner with candles on the table and the works, in a very nice mood restaurant. It was kind the kind place where you took someone that you really liked, whom you were trying to seduce. I loved it. I was being seduced. He wanted me to become his wife, I could tell. There was a dance floor there to, and Stanley took me out onto the dance floor. I had never danced with anyone before, let alone a good looking strong man, but it did not take me very long to learn how to follow his lead, and to realise that I loved dancing with him. Following him seemed to be so natural an act for me. Then, near mid night, he took me back to his apartment. When we got in, he got me some new wine, and he sat on the couch while I went to the bath room to refresh my makeup. When I came out, he indicated that he wanted me to sit on his lap. I felt so completely like a little girl, as I felt my soft bum cheeks encounter his muscular thighs, and his rock hard cock. I was flattered that as a girl, I could make him feel this way about me. I had never been so close to a man, in such an intimate environment before, and it thrilled me. He made me feel so feminine. He kissed me for the first time, and I thought I would feint away, it felt so wonderful to have his hard thin lips pressing against mine. I felt the scratchiness of his beard stubble. I felt the strong muscles in his arms and his shoulders, as he hugged me tightly against him. I felt the hardness in his chest. I could feel his heart beating rapidly, and I knew that I excited him. I could not help it as I relaxed deeply into his strong arms, and I knew for certain that I could like guys the way that the real girls like guys. I could certainly like Stan, as he asked me to call him. Yes, I mused, as I felt his lips on mine, the first time I was ever kissed by a male, and it was very nice. It was so different from being kissed by girls, and I loved it. I felt so small, so weak, and so under his masculine spell, as he gently handled me. I felt like he was treating me as though I were a fragile porcelain doll, and I liked that. I let my arms move up, so that I could encircle his neck, to let him know that I was accepting of him. It made me feel as though I had nothing to protect my front against him. I was vulnerable to him, because I had raised my arms to assume the age old gesture of a woman submitting to a man she loves. Three He kissed me very gently for a long time. I felt as though I were on a cloud of pinked bliss. For the first time in my entire life, I felt that a strong male was loving me. My father had never made me feel like that. I liked Stan, and I knew that I liked him a lot. I felt his hips gently gyrating, pushing his erection up into my beskirted bum. It seemed to not be big, but very hard. I felt his tongue tip gently begin to explore my lips. It was terribly erotic, and I enjoyed it for a few long minutes. I wondered what real girls did then. I knew, instinctively, I knew that I should open my lips and there by give him an invitation to further invade me, taking his control over me. My lips were ever so sensitive. His tongue seemed to be so big. I parted my lips in a submissive fashion, and I waited to see if he would enter my body. Soon, his tongue was exploring my mouth, and submissively, I received him into me. I loved it. He was so strong, and so assertive. He just seemed to assume that I was going to accept him, and I did. He explored my mouth like that for a long time. All that I could do was to lick his tongue in an accepting manner, and suck on it. I sucked it hard, at least it seemed hard for me, considering that I was a weak little thing, compared to him. I welcomed him invading my body like that. I clung to his neck, as though to try and drive his tongue further into me. I could not help but to wonder if that was the only part of Stan that I was going to suck that night. I sort of hoped not, but the idea of taking such an irreversible step scared me. I knew only too well, that once I allowed myself to become a cock sucker, I could never look in the mirror ever again, and not see a cock sucker looking back at me. I wondered if I could do that. I realised though, much to my chagrin that I wanted it to be that way. I wanted to experience everything that real girls got to experience. That was why I wanted to be Stan's wife. I was not a fairy. I wanted to be as much of a girl as I could ever be, without changing my sex. Being a boy girl turned me on. Stan let one of his hands gently move down to my left side, and he gently caressed me, up and down my side. His hand felt so big and strong. His hand felt so hot, right through my dress and lingerie. Stan was certainly masculine enough for my tastes, and made me feel like a cherished girl. After a long time of kissing me and caressing me like that, I felt Stan's hand move down over my outer thigh and down to my knees. I could feel the roughness of his skin as his fingers explored my nyloned knees. I felt his hand begin to move upwards a bit, and involuntarily, I opened my legs, to receive his hand. It took for ever, or so it seemed to me, for his hands to finally make their way up past the tops of my nylons, to the crotch of my panties. I had dreamed over and over again, about what it was going to feel like to have a man touch me, while I was wearing panties. Now I knew. I felt utterly under his control. His fingers felt like they were big enough to break my little cockette right off, if he wanted to. I would have screamed in joy, but for the tongue that was filling my mouth. I bucked on his knees, and he knew how he was making me feel. His fingers firstly moved up and down over my cockette, lightly tracing out the shape and size of it. Then he did something that I had never thought that he might do, but it drove me wild with passion. His fingers went down to the crotch of my panties, where my vagina would have been, and he pressed up hard into me. I went crazy. I could not believe how exciting, how totally effeminating and how wonderfully intoxicating it was to have this man touch me right where girls get touched by their lovers. When he sensed how I reacted, he pushed harder. I could do nothing but to spread my legs as wide as I could, and let him invade my most private parts like that. I felt absolutely helpless in his hands like that, and it was the most wonderful feeling I had ever had. I nearly creamed in my panties, it was so wonderful. Finally, he moved his fingers back to the front of my panties, and he grasped me roughly. I felt so small in his hand. I felt the intimate girl material of my panties being ground into the only boyhood that I had left to me. I could not stop myself. I sucked hard on his tongue as I screamed out my elation. I began to pump into his hand, and I felt utterly out of control. It was the most wonderful orgasm that I had ever had, and he milked me like I was his little girl. I felt like his little girl. I felt like I had fallen in love with the man who seemed to get off on treating me in exactly the way that I wanted to be treated. After what seemed like long minutes, I began to relax. I knew that I had an awful mess in my panties. I asked Stan if it was okay for me to go and clean up the mess that he had made in my panties. He smiled and told me that it was fine. I felt so humiliated, as I slipped off his knee, knowing that he was watching me sashay down the hall way to the bath room. I washed the mess out of my panties. Because they were so wet, I preferred to take them right off, which left me with a wickedly naked feeling. I stuffed them into my purse, and I was amazed at how he had destroyed my lip stick. I would have to get the kind that does not come off so easily, I noted to myself. I walked back to the living room, feeling so very exposed, as the slip rode across my thighs and bum cheeks. Stan had refreshed our wine glasses. I did not need an invitation, as I walked back over to him, and I sat down beside him, very close beside him. A few quick sips and the wine glasses were empty again. It was time for him to start kissing me again, which he did not hesitate to do. He kissed me, wrapping his big arm around me, making me feel very small and weak, which I liked feeling. After a while, I felt him grasp my right wrist in his finger tips, and he guided my right hand over to the front of his pants. For the very first time, I had my hand on the front of a real man's pants. I could feel the big muscle throbbing under my hand. I felt the hardness of it. I felt the heat of it. He asked me if I liked his cock. I could not tell him a lie. I told him that I did. He told me that he would really like it if I would play with it for him. He asked me if I would like to play with it, and I told him that I would like to do that. He made me feel so utterly feminine, and he was going to let me do all the girl like things that I had fantasised for my whole life about doing. I watched him open his pants, and work his pants and under wear down over his knees. He lay back, knees wide open. I looked at his cock, as I gently lay my hand on his hairy right thigh. It was so ugly and big, that it scared me, and yet at the same time, it fascinated me. I had an unbelievable urge to lean over and kiss it for him. I resisted that urge though. I moved my hand up, and I gently cupped his hairy balls. They were so big. They seemed to be five times the size of the only balls that I was familiar with. I was amazed, not to mention impressed with how big and heavy they were. I felt a strange sense of pride to, because Stan was entrusting me with his family jewels, as the old saying goes. Then, for the first time in my life, I wrapped my fingers around a man's shaft. I do not consider my own shaft to be a man's shaft, because I have never considered myself to be a real boy, or a man. It was amazing to me. It was rock hard, feeling like a metal pipe, and yet the skin that covered it was so satiny smooth. I moved my hand up and down, masturbating this man who'd wanted me to become his wife. I liked the way my hand looked around his shaft. I liked the way it felt. I was flattered that as a girl, that I could make it so hard. I knew that it was because I was such a feminine girl, that he was like this. I was really flattered. If I had ever had any doubt about my ability to make a man react to me, as a woman, the proof was in my hand that I should have no more doubts. Men would like me. I sat there, sort of half leaning over, with his arm wrapped around my shoulders, and my head resting against his chest, while in a most fascinated fashion, I watched my hand do what girl's hands do. I could not help but to feel sort of privileged to be able to do what real girls got to do. Being a boy had denied me this kind of experience before. Stan whispered in a quiet but urgent voice, that he wanted me to kiss it for him. Was I ready to do that? I had never done that before. I knew that if I did it, that it would require more courage from inside of me than I had ever had to use before. Did I have the courage to stop being who everyone thought that I was, and to start being who I really was on the inside, namely a girl? My breathing was very shallow, and I could sense rather than feel my fingers trembling. This was a turning point moment in my life, I knew. I looked up at Stan. I knew that I must look like a trusting little girl, but that was the way that I felt. He smiled and asked me if I wanted to kiss it. He told me that he did not want me to do anything that I did not want to do. He said that he wanted me to make love to him, because my feminine soul wanted to make love to him as my man, maybe even my husband, but not because he wanted to make me do it against my will. I smiled up at him. I was beginning to fall in love with this big lug. He was so big, but I kind of felt like he was also a teddy bear, because he was so very gentle with me. I looked back down, and I soon found that I was lowering my head. I could smell his strong man smell. I had never smelled anything like that odor coming from me. I liked it. It made my cockette start to grow again. I felt terribly naughty because my cockette was not restrained by a pair of panties, but was freely brushing against my slip. I began by pursing my lips and leaned over, touching the cock head lightly with my lips. That was how I started on my journey into complete effemination. In no time though, I found myself brushing my lips all over the dry head, and I hoped that he knew that I was feeling a desire to honour him for being a man when I knew only too well, how impossible it was for someone like me to ever be a man like Stanley. I admired him for his masculine nature, and I wanted to honour him for it. I kissed all over the head, and up and down the shaft. I continued to masturbate him, wondering why he was not cumming all over my face. I suspect that I would have liked the feeling of making him cum all over my face. When he told me to, I even moved my head down so that I could kiss his balls for him. I was elated. This is what the real girls did, and at long last, I was being allowed to do the same things. I was being this man's girl. I rubbed his shaft all over my cheeks, as my lips explored the surface of his cock. I knew that I was hooked on being a girl. This was the most exciting thing that I had ever done in my life. Stan let me kiss his cock for him for about fifteen minutes or so. The more I did it, the more I liked being allowed to do this intimate girl thing for him. I felt utterly effeminated, and I loved the feeling. I knew in my mind now, that I could never be a guy, not a real one, not like Stanley. Stan gently patted me on the shoulders. I sat up and found myself wrapped in his arms again, and his lips were pressing against mine again. I found myself melting against him. I wanted for him to own me, to take control of me, to love me and to take care of me. He giggled, from deep in his throat, and he told me to excuse him for a few minutes, as he needed to go and slip into something more comfortable. I giggled, the irony of the statement was not lost on me. It was usually the lady who said things like that. I giggled back at him, feeling very light headed and giddy. I was finally getting to be a real girl. He told me that what he wanted for me to do, was to relax, have another glass of wine, to sit there, and to keep looking pretty till he got back. I grinned up at him. I wanted to look pretty for him. Geeze, the way that he was treating me, I wanted to do anything for him that he wanted me to do for him. Four He was gone about ten minutes. When Stan returned, he was wearing house slippers, of brown leather, and a three quarter length dark brown silk robe, that had a brown satin sash around the waste that was tied in a really big bow. I could see clearly, that he had an erection under the robe. The robe tented out in an unmistakable way. I blushed, but I also felt kind of flattered. It was me as a girl who was making this man react to me, in this fashion. He grinned lasciviously at me, making me feel like a fly in a spider web. He walked over, very slowly and stood right in front of me. I had been sitting on the edge of the couch, so when he stood in front of me like that, the tented part of his robe lightly brushed against my face. I could smell him again. It was nice. I looked up at him. I had never felt so small and submissive before. He made me feel utterly feminine. "Honey, all nice things come in wrappings that have a nice big bow on it. If you want your present, you have to untie the bow to get it." I blushed. I did want it. He knew what was going on deep on the inside of me. I felt so exposed to have someone seem to know me so completely. I reached up and pulled at the sash. In a moment, the sash opened. His robe fell apart in the front, revealing the big cock that I had been kissing just short minutes before. I could still see traces of my lip stick all over it. "Baby, this is the moment of truth for you. Are you a wifely kind of girl who enjoys making love to her big stud husband, or are you not? You have to decide, right now, honey." He pressed forward a bit. He took his tool in his hand, and he gently rubbed it all over my face, continuing to return the head of it to my lips, where I was unable to resist kissing it for him. He made me feel like a real sissy girl, and I tingled with the excitement of the feelings that coursed through my psyche. Then he put the head of it on my lips, and he pressed lightly. "Open your mouth, pretty honey. I want you to suck my cock, like a good pretty fairy does for the man that she favours. Open up, and make love to your man, honey." I could not resist him. I looked up at him, feeling almost as though I were mesmerised. I relaxed my jaw muscles. I felt his cock, very slowly begin to move across my lips, and I felt the big head of it, as it entered into my mouth. This was it. There was no turning back. Now, I was a cock sucker. I was joining the ranks of the sissy fairy cock suckers, and I was surprised to realise that I liked knowing that. I liked being a girl, though I have no right to be a girl, let alone be dressed as I was at the moment. I could feel every feminine stitch that I was wearing, and I had never been so excited in my life. This was my real life, I knew. This was how I would be happy. I was still looking up at him. Receiving his cock into my mouth like that, made me feel utterly girlish. I marvelled at how soft the hardness seemed. I felt it pressing out against my cheeks, and I knew that he could see my cheeks bulging out from his cock head. He stopped when he felt that he had reached the back of my mouth. I had never felt my mouth being so full before. I loved it. I began to move my tongue around, hardly daring to believe that I was actually licking a cock that was filling my mouth. I felt my lips stretched. I felt the bigness as it stretched my lips. I had never felt anything like that before. I also felt strangely free. I was really free at long last, to be myself to, which surprised me. I liked everything about it. I liked knowing that at long last, I was really having the courage to do what all the real girls got to do, and where expected to do with their boy friends. I was being a real girl. I could feel almost every stitch of my feminine clothing. I had never felt so alive, and so female before. Stanley was making me face up to who I really was. I licked at him and I knew that I was doing it lovingly, and then I started to slowly pull my head back, then move it forward again. I was getting my face fucked, just as though my mouth were a vagina, and it felt wonderful. I was being all girl now. Stanley let me suck him like that for about fifteen minutes. All the while, he kept up a steady stream of comments and noises, about what I was doing, and how good I was making him feel. Then he told me to get ready, because I was going to make him cum. I felt him actually swell even a bit more in my mouth, and I was not sure of what to do. I pulled my head back, so that just the head of his cock was still inside of my mouth. I had always fantasised about what it would feel like to jack a man off, inside of my mouth. Now, I had my chance to find out what it would feel like. I did not know if I would ever have the courage to do this kind of thing again, so I wanted to do it. With my thumb on that ultra sensitive spot, just under the head of his cock, and my left hand gently cupping his big balls, I made him cum into my mouth for me. He spurted and spurted and spurted. He spurted so much, that my mouth filled, and I had to swallow it, or risk having his cum spill out of my mouth, and all over the front of my pretty dress. I did not want to risk messing up my dress. I could not believe how much cum he gave to me. I loved the way the thick saltiness rolled in big thick gobs on my tongue, before I swallowed it. This was the stuff that men gave to girls, to make their babies, and just like I was any other girl, Stanley had given all of his to me. I was elated. I had really had the courage to break the mould of my life long conditioning, and be a real girl with a real man, and I had drawn his male stuff out of him, and like any other girl, had taken it into my belly. Stanley was drained. As soon as he started to get soft, he took it out of my mouth, and he sank to the couch beside me. He was very happy, judging from the smile on his face. He held my hand for a long time, as we sat there like that. I felt romanticised. I felt like I was on a pink cloud. I felt fully satisfied, and intensely feminine. I had just pleased the man who might want me to be his wife. I liked him. I liked the way he smelled. I liked the way he looked. I liked the way he felt. I especially liked the way that he treated me. He made me feel like I was his queen, with no puns intended. Stanley knew how to make a girl feel like his special lady. He'd spared none of his charm on me, either. I was his lady. If he asked me to marry him, I knew that I would do it. The night was just about over, I knew. It was time for me to go back home, to think about the way he had treated me, and the way that he had made me feel. I wrote out my phone number for him, and I got up to leave. He walked me to do the door, and he took me into his arms for a prolonged good night kiss. I wondered if he could taste his own cum from the inside of my mouth. He told me that I was pretty, very feminine and lady like and as far as he was concerned, that he thought that we could make a very nice couple. I told him that I did not know him well enough to make that kind of commitment, but that I liked him enough to see him again, if he wanted to see me again. He assured me that he did want to see me again. I was happy. When I stepped in the door back at my apartment, the phone was ringing. "Hullo?" "Debi?" "Stanley. I did not expect to hear from you again so soon." "Are you kidding. I can't think of anything else but how pretty and how feminine you are. You are like a breath of fresh air to me. I just wanted to tell you that I had a wonderful time tonight, and I hope that you want to see me again?" "I had a lovely time to Stanley, and yes dear, I would like to see you again." "Uhhh... I have this little party that I have to go to tomorrow night. It is not a big thing, only about ten or so people. I would really like it if you came with me. Uhhh... No one would know that you are not a girl, Debi, so I would like you to dress pretty, but a bit on the conservative side. Would you like to go with me?" "I'd love to Stanley. I have just the perfect outfit to wear." "Good. I want all the other studs to get a good gander of you, and envy the hell out of me for being with you. I will pick you up at seven thirty sharp." "Good night Stanley." I blew him a kiss over the phone line. I was elated as I slipped into my nightie and crawled between my satin sheets. I'd been treated like a girl, and I had acted like a girl, and now, Stanley wanted for me to be introduced to his other friends, friends who would think that I was really a woman. My spirit soared. I dared never to believe that I could ever be so happy. To be continued: Write to me: Miss Debi Johnson... [email protected]