Xena Versus The Spartans
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My Story, Part 1 free porn video
Early Beginnings ? by: Dani Hendrix
My story is a little different. I was not forced into womanhood. I was
not brainwashed or blackmailed. I became a woman for one reason: lust.
The lust that I felt for women I wanted to be felt for me. The way a man
looks at a woman; a sexy, confident woman was all I desired to be. To be
wanted like that. I needed it.
I can tell you right now. I succeeded. It took all my courage,
determination, and strength, but I got what I wanted.
My story begins the way many do. I developed a love for the silky feel of
my sister's clothes. I became instantly turned on when I wore her skirts,
her shirts, and her panties. Seemingly every moment I had to myself was
spent in her panties.
As I got a little older and began my first job things became far more
accessible to me. I could drive, I had money, but I also worked in a
pharmacy that provided many subtle opportunities to explore my dressing
desires.
We sold pantyhose and stockings. We sold make-up. Around Halloween we
sold costumes. My favorite was a witch's outfit complete with the
ultimate in feminine trash, the fish-net stocking. I kept all of these
articles in a 2' by 2' empty cassette holder that zipped closed in the
bottom of my closet.
To be honest, most of my early 'girly things' were swiped from the
pharmacy. A pair of hose, a tube of lipstick, the fishnet stockings, they
were all conveniently 'lost' in the shuffle of daily drug store business.
I bought some things too. I bought a pair of black g-string panties. I
love a g-string. The feeling of vulnerability and sexual energy that
comes with a racy thong is like a drug for me.
All of my feminine beginnings began when I was thirteen and continued
through high school. When I walked at my high school graduation, I had a
pair of panties on under my robe.
I went to college and continued my dressing 'in the closet'. I lived at
home, which was tough on my social life but great for my 'womanly
desires'. I was able to eat right and diet effectively. I bit the bullet
and shaved myself smooth without worrying about co-ed bathroom ridicule.
I had plenty of 'alone time'.
It was around then, my first year of college that everything began to
change and my desires seemed to accelerate. The internet had become
available, and it opened new doors to lust, and new means to satiate it.
I was able to get my first pair of heels on-line, an open-toed black
sandal with ankle straps and a 5" heel. I had no intention of 'starting
slow' with a flat or some low-heeled shoe. I wanted the 'hooker feel'
from the get-go, and the 5" was the highest I could order. The minute
they were on my feet my life was forever changed.
It took some time, but eventually I was able to progress from admiring
the way they looked on my feet to teetering around on them and eventually
walking tall and confident. I mention 'time' because that was the one
thing I felt I had. I was a 19 year-old young woman who hadn't blossomed
yet. I was 5'10" and 160 pounds and I was losing a pound every week or
so. I was hairless. I could apply lipstick. I could walk in heels. I knew
that panties went on after the garter belt so they could be taken off if
the situation warranted. I was learning, albeit slowly, what it took to
be a sensual female.
Those were both enjoyable and frustrating times. They were enjoyable
because I was constantly discovering new means to sensuality. When home
alone, which was often due to the social schedules of my parents, I would
shave my body and take my time dressing, putting each feminine piece on
slowly and sexually, my cock stiffening through the process. By then I
had my black 5" heels, black seemed stockings with garter, black g-string
panties and a black bra.
I would apply lipstick and some mascara. Once dressed, I would walk
around admiring my legs in different mirrors and then get down to
business. 'Getting down to business' consisted of slowly pleasuring
myself, taking the time to enjoy the feeling of my shaved cock and balls,
while rubbing my other hand over my silky stockings. Eventually I would
build to an orgasm which I happily let spray all over my chest.
My frustration rose over the desire for 'everything all at once'. I
wanted to be an alluring vixen, a five-alarm blaze that made a man's
pulse quicken with a lusty glance. At the time, much to my frustration, I
was still just a boy in women's underwear. I had to keep pushing.
The Winds of Change
I knew what I wanted. I was willing to risk everything for it. Of course,
at the time 'everything' didn't seem like a lot.
Help and salvation came with the realization that, in order to truly be
the woman I wanted to be, I would need hormones to help. I did a lot of
research, and eventually arrived at a plan that I was comfortable with.
I did not consult a doctor, and, looking back, probably should have, but
I got where I wanted to go, and therefore have no regrets.
Hormones are not magic. They take time to work. While I settled in to
wait for changes to take place I began letting my hair grow and continued
to diet. Eventually I got all the way down to 145 pounds on my 5'10"
frame. I knew then that I needed to work on my appearance, because my
weight was manageable and would not be a problem.
My hair got longer and eventually the hormones began to take effect. The
effects were quite subtle at first; I became a little softer, a little
rounder, my breasts began to ache.
Whether it was psychological or not, I began to feel like a woman. I
continued college, keeping mostly to myself, and made a slight wardrobe
change towards more androgynous clothing. It was around this time that my
parents noticed a difference.
They had been curious before, but now it was becoming undeniable. I was
changing. They had no way of knowing where I was going at that point, but
they're not stupid, and they knew something was different. I had made up
my mind to not hide what I was doing from them if they asked, and I made
good on that promise when they inquired. Suffice it to say, they were
shocked. I have an older brother and sister. Neither of them had ever
dropped a bomb like this. I remember my father asked only, "Why"?
My answer then, as it is now, was this; a woman is who I am. It's what
I'm comfortable being. It makes me happy.
It was decided that it would be best for me to move out. They did not
kick me out. As a matter-of-fact, they helped me with my rent at my
apartment. They were not happy with my decision. I'm sure they were
embarrassed, though they have never admitted to that. The decision
stemmed from my 'changes'. They felt I would be more comfortable going
through them without their scrutinizing eye. To an extent, they were
right. It was certainly easier to be 'me' without them around.
At the same time, it wasn't the most supportive move they could have
made. My mother insisted I see a doctor. I said I would, and never did.
Living on my own was certainly different. I had a lot more time to dress,
and could acquire more clothes to fill my closets. I purged most of my
old clothes at this time, saving a few pairs of sweatpants, sweatshirts,
and sneakers, in case I needed them in a pinch.
My First Time
I was on my own, in my world, with little money, and lots of dreams. I
had college to attend. I continued my androgynous ways, but I had become
a little more daring. It wasn't even on purpose that I began 'pushing the
envelope' at school. It grew out of living alone. I was living as a woman
whenever I wasn't at school, so looking back it was only natural to
slowly become more en femme in class.
To be honest, I have no idea what I was wearing to class during this
period. I know I was 'dressing down' most of the time, but my hair was
longer and I gotten my ears pierced.
Eventually people began to notice. Most of the time people were pretty
shitty to me, making comments, and talking trash. But, some people were
pretty nice to me. One of the many discoveries I made during this process
is this, when you remain in a shell, you're all alone. When you take that
paralyzing, fearful first step out ? even just a bit- you're bound to
find someone who understands because they can see where you're going ?
even if you can't.
Not everyone in this country is homophobic. Not everyone is afraid of
something different, and when you meet someone like that, it's pretty
cool.
I met Dave one day in a convenience store. We had a class together but
had never spoken. He was the same major as I, 'Marketing', and we struck
up a conversation. Living close to school, and fearful of real malicious
acts, I would always wander my way home, so as not to be followed. I
never wanted anyone to know where my apartment was. Because of this, Dave
and I parted shortly after our conversation, but it was nice that he
seemed genuine, and didn't mind talking to a skinny, long-haired guy with
earrings and strange clothes.
We talked again after class for a few days and eventually had lunch. We
talked about a lot of personal things, and eventually I told him my
secret. He never got 'weird' ? in fact, he told me later, it really
turned him on. (Had I known I would have been so proud of myself)
It took me a long time to trust that he hadn't told anybody I was
transitioning, but I did finally come around to that conclusion after a
few weeks. He was genuine. He was also about to become my first time.
I invited him to dinner at my apartment. I think he knew what was up,
because he had since told me I turned him on, and had even briefly kissed
me 'goodbye' a few days earlier.
My breasts had begun to come in just a bit by then. I had upped my
hormone program after about nine months to a more aggressive plan, and I
now had a hint of cleavage. I was certainly rounder, and my legs had a
much more feminine shape than they had ever had before. My hair was
becoming softer and fuller. I had a long way to go, but I was getting
there.
My sexual sessions had blossomed as well. I had several dildos by this
time, and I used them quite a bit. I took the time to clean myself out,
usually with an enema ? 'my douche!' ? and then would lube up and begin a
slow fucking with a dildo. I learned how to ride it properly, how to
contract my 'pussy' muscles around it for maximum pleasure. I could fuck
and fuck and fuck until I was literally dripping with lube. I always
imagined it to be cum. I imagined I was a whore, being used by countless
men, and this was their sperm finally leaking from my full pussy. I could
literally cum within seconds during a good fucking.
I worked on my oral techniques as well, slowly sliding a thick dildo in
and out of my lipstick red lips. Oral practice was always done on my
knees, fully dressed, with my 5" heels on, the way a good whore should
suck a cock.
Days earlier, I had made the commitment to finally have a sexual
experience as a woman. I was not a male virgin, having had sex with two
girls while in high school and the summer that followed. I was, on the
other hand, literally a virgin as a woman. I had used my dildos, but
obviously, there is no substitute for the real thing.
It is during those moments alone, (I know most 'dressers' and TV's have
these moments), when you're alone with your deep, dark, dirty thoughts,
that plans can be hatched. Most of them are fantasy, but sometimes when
the courage is up, they can become reality. That's how it happened for
me. I was dressed, feeling sexy, and determined to find the cock that I
had always craved. Finding that cock is magical, because guys can be led
around by theirs quite easily. You perform a service for them ? they want
you to do it forever. Don't let anyone tell you differently: sucking a
cock is the most empowering thing a woman can do.
I found my first oral service in a seedy adult bookstore in downtown
Boston. I was not dressed en femme, rather androgynous, but trying to
look sexy just the same. I was not passable at the time, and didn't want
to risk getting beaten up, so I compromised on my appearance. I did not
compromise on my quest. I found a fairly decent man, slid over to him,
and softly said, "Hi".
He looked over, saw me, said, "Hi," back and just stared. I was shaking
as the words came out?
"Are you looking for a good time?"
Now, keep in mind, I was in an adult video store and peep show place.
Everyone is pretty quiet and kind of looks at the ground the whole time
they are there. Everyone is also sexually charged for the most part,
because they're all taking a walk on the wild side just by being in the
place.
This guy, to his credit, was steady. "What did you have in mind," he
said. And this, I'll never forget. I looked right at him and said, "I'd
like to go into one of those booths and suck your cock."
He was obviously a little shocked, but he actually managed to ask me if I
had condoms. I did.
In we went. We positioned the stool so he could sit on it. I was actually
in control of my wits at this point, having resolved myself to doing this
and finally on the cusp of getting it done.
"Pull down your pants, Sugar," I couldn't believe I just said that.
He did. He let his pants fall to his ankles and sat back on the stool. I
kneeled down in front of him in the small booth (they're built for one) ?
trying not to get sticky from the dried cum on the floor. I wanted to be
a dirty whore, and this sure qualified. I was on fire for his cock. From
that angle, on your knees in front of a man's dick, is always an odd
place to be. They look different close up. I steadied myself on my knees
and began working him in my hands, stroking the shaft with one hand,
while cupping his balls with the other.
He began to stiffen, and, once he became fully erect, I slid a rubber on.
I leaned in, and gently licked the head of his cock. I slowly move my
lips down his shaft and he gasped for the first time. I licked and sucked
his balls while I cradled his hard cock in my hands. I slowly slid the
tip into my mouth, savoring it, tasting it, feeling him in me. I moved a
hand onto the base of his shaft and began to pump him, the way I had
pumped those dildos for all of those months, with my hand and mouth
working in unison.
I had always wondered if I could make a man cum with my mouth ? if I
actually had the skill ? and I was finding out that I could. He rocked
back and ecstasy as I slowed my pace. I was into it now, and I wanted to
enjoy it. Someone actually knocked on the door, and my guy called out,
"Occupied!"
I knew at that point that I had no time to fool around, so I quickened my
pace, and gripped a little harder and really began to work his cock like
the sex meat it was. I was gobbling all of it, and kneading his balls
with my other hand when he began to stiffen just a bit. I jerked him hard
and fast and began talking to him?
"Come on baby, give me that seed. Give me your cum baby. I want it."
I put my mouth back on him and kept working. His legs stiffened, his body
began to shake a little. He moaned. I redoubled my efforts and waited for
the inevitable.
With a muffled cry his head rocked back, his hips pushed into me, and his
cock exploded into the condom, filling it with his love juice. I kept
sucking until his orgasm had completely washed away.
I slid the condom off, handed it to him, got up, straightened myself, and
walked out. I had sucked my first cock, had whored myself for the first
time, had left a man standing with his pants down and a used rubber in
his hand, both his mind and his cock blown. I was a dirty whore, and I
was happy about it.
So that was my only feminine experience as I prepared for Dave to come
over. I was prepared to go all out for him. I bathed and shaved until I
was nice and smooth all over. I put on perfume, styled my hair the best I
could, applied my make-up, put a black lace bra onto my little but
developing breasts, attached my black stockings to my garter belt, slid
up my panties, and put on my new black cocktail dress. I looked OK,
certainly better than I ever had before.
Dave had never seen me completely dressed before, and while he knew what
I wanted, and knew that I would be 'dressed' for him this evening; I was
dying to know what he would think. I was still only 20, so I had nothing
to drink. Thankfully Dave was bringing wine.
He was there right at 7PM, and was very complimentary about my
appearance. He even wrapped his arms around me from behind as I was
putting the finishing touches on dinner. I ground my hips into his
slightly. I was on a mission, and he was my prey, and I was going to make
this man want me. It wasn't very hard. But, I was going to make him work
for it, and then I was going to give it to him.
We talk, and drank, and smoked cigarettes and got a little drunk. I
allowed my skirt to slowly ride up my silky legs. He flirted and I
demurred. My cock was stirring. His was too. Eventually he slid over to
me and kissed me on the lips. When he pulled away I saw my lipstick on
his lips and all I could think of was that lipstick leaving a ring around
his cock. I slid a high heeled leg over his thighs and straddled him. I
kissed him deep, using my tongue, and caressed his cock through his
pants.
"Do you want me?" I asked him.
"Yes," was his reply.
"What do you want?"
"I want you to give me a blow job."
"Tell me."
"I want you to give me a blowjob."
"Beg me."
"Please give me a blowjob."
"Ask me again."
"Please give me a blowjob. Please."
I was off him in an instant, my hands working off his belt. I unbuttoned
his pants. He lifted his hips, and I slid his pants and shorts down to
his ankles. My one prior experience was all I had to go on, but it was
enough. I devoured his cock with my mouth, using one hand to caress his
balls and the other to rub his thigh. He moaned and his erection sprang
to full attention.
I was living in a vacuum, working his manhood for all it was worth
without a care in the world. I did not savor that blowjob, I wanted his
cum in my mouth, something I never would have done with a stranger, and I
wanted it right then. I pumped him fast with a hand, and, shortly after,
he tensed and I felt his cum welling up. He arched his back as I sucked
him hard, and with a yell his cum exploded into my mouth.
I was prepared and took every last drop ? just the way I imagined a good
cocksucker would. I cleaned him off with my tongue and moved away,
standing in front of him for but a second to straighten myself. Part of
my manhood had stayed with me ? I didn't have time for small talk after a
sex act.
We talked and drank some more and Dave left shortly thereafter. I was
living on my own, I had sucked my first cocks, and my feminine charms
were increasing by leaps and bounds. Life was good.
I continued to struggle through school, not academically, but in keeping
a low profile and appearance. My breasts were beginning to grow, and it
was getting harder and harder to look 'normal'. I was in transition hard.
My hair was long and getting softer and fuller, my breasts were swelling
a bit, my legs were shaved which made spring and fall more difficult, as
I was nervous about wearing shorts. I hadn't become a woman, but I was no
longer a man.
Aside from being 'stuck in the middle' of transition, those were good
times. I saw Dave quite a bit during that time. He'd come over and we'd
drink and he'd wait for the inevitable blowjob to come. It always did ?
and so did he.
Eventually he broached the subject of sex. I was ready. God was I ready.
I had mercilessly fucked my own pussy with a dildo hundreds of times. I
was ready for the real thing.
He came over and we began our usual routine, some wine, and laughter and
then we got down to it. It was a wonderful experience. I was not nervous,
more a little excited about the thought of having a man inside me. I was
about to truly become a woman. He fucked me long and deep and eventually
came inside me. It felt wonderful, and I let his cum slowly drip out of
me throughout the night ? savoring every minute of it. I was really a
woman.
Working Girl & Present
Eventually the inevitable happened. I graduated. I did not attend the
ceremony, but I'm extremely proud of the accomplishment. No one can ever
take a college degree away from a person. It's with you for life.
Of course, graduating came with its own set of problems. I had to find a
job. I was more woman than man from an appearance standpoint, but I
hadn't finished transitioning by a long shot. Looking for a job was a
really difficult experience for me. No one wanted to hire me. I had no
choice by then but to put my best feminine foot forward, interviewing as
a man would have been a joke. It was hard going as me ? now a woman.
People knew, and what was worse, I knew they knew. No one I interviewed
with would ever admit it, but they discriminated against me all over the
place. It was pathetic. I was qualified to do a lot of the things I
applied for, but no one ever called me back. Maybe I should have offered
to suck their dicks during the interview?
I had no money, no job, my tits hadn't fully come in, my face wasn't
quite right, I just wasn't 'there' yet. I had to borrow money from my
parents to keep my apartment, only now I felt horrible taking it. It was
one thing to accept their money in college, it was entirely another to
have to do it as an 'adult'.
Salvation came in the form of a telemarketing job that allowed me to work
at home. It came with no base salary, but commissions were mine to keep.
Mainly, it was a 'number's game', meaning, the more calls a person made,
the better they would do. I made a million calls. I had bills to pay, my
parents to pay back, and a transition to support. Nothing happens in the
transgender world without money. Everything costs money. Hormones, make-
up, clothes, it's an expensive proposition.
I called and called and called, and I made some sales. Eventually I made
enough to support myself.
I kept to myself a lot during this time. I worked hard at my job, and I
worked even harder at my transition. I could see the finished product
coming through, and I wanted to be complete. I got to the point where I
could dance in 6" platform heels ? I still can. At home my skirts kept
getting shorter. I was thin enough to wear only a skirt and a bra and
look normal. I ate almost nothing, which was not good, but I tried to eat
right, and I actually came to enjoy feeling hungry. My breasts kept
coming in, and they had gotten heavier and fuller. I was a 36B at that
time. I needed more.
I decided to get breast enhancement surgery as my transition was nearing
'completion', because tits (I love the word 'tits', it's so dirty ? it's
like 'cunt') are such a feminine thing. It's simple, guys like girls with
curves.
Breast enhancement surgery is not for everyone. The whole process is
expensive, painful, and time-consuming. It takes a long time to heal from
a surgery like that. It will change your life. You can't go back once you
make a decision to have it done.
Still, it was well worth all the aggravation. I'm a 36D because of it,
and I love it when a man looks at my chest. It's that wanton lust I
talked about in the opening. I crave it like a drug.
I saw very little of 'College Dave' anymore. He had gotten a job and was
off doing his thing. The internet was booming, so we were able to keep in
touch through email. We still do to this day.
Over time, I was able to assimilate myself into society as a woman. I
even changed my name officially ? to Dani.
I got a different telemarketing job, also from home, but with a base
salary, and that provided me the financial stability that I desperately
needed. I could work nine to five from my apartment dressed however I
wanted, and I was able to meet all kinds of interesting people. I had
worked on my voice for years, and the hormones caused further changes, so
guys I would call would flirt with me at times. I loved it ? I still do.
Nothing is funnier than being asked, "What are you wearing?" and being
able to reply, "A g-string, a bra, and 5" 'fuck-me' heels." It's pretty
easy to make a sale after that.
I had started going out by this point, as I had reached a 'passable'
state, and I loved the attention I got from men. I'd go out to clubs
alone, in the shortest skirts and highest heels and just sit at the bar
and let men approach me. I'm not sure any of them knew I had a cock, and
if they did, they didn't care. I sucked off guys in the back of bars, in
cars, and occasionally at their place. I would never invite a stranger
into my home.
I continued to keep my pussy in shape, and enjoyed several fuckings that
I won't detail here. I've accepted payment for sex on a few occasions.
It's easy money and I feel justified in doing so. After all, I had spent
so much to transition, I felt (and still feel) like some of it is owed to
me. I practice safe sex unless it's a boyfriend. I've had a few
boyfriends, but nothing longterm.
Looking back, I'd do it all over again. I wanted to be a girl because I
wanted to be lusted after the way pretty girls are. It was fulfilling to
me. It took close to eight years, but I got there. I'm attractive, have
big tits, and can suck and fuck all night. I'm a hard worker and I plan
to do well in this world, even though I haven't figured out exactly what
I'm going to do. I'm still close with my parents, and that support
system has been invaluable to me. I'm not sure I would have made it
without them.
I've experienced a lot of negative things too; discrimination, hatred,
homophobia. I haven't spoken to my brother in almost ten years. I have
very few friends.
I did not write this to preach or persuade, I wrote it for me and for
you, the reader, as a way to experience my transition. I love sex, so I
detailed some of my sessions. Mainly though, it's just an account of one
person's journey towards happiness. I found it finally, but I've still
got the scars from the trip.
Xoxo Dani
Dani
- 23.11.2020
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