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Dear Reader, Allow me to apologize in advance for using "pantyhose" as a plot device for this one. As you well know, "pantyhose" are evidence that Evil exists. Yet, they work well at two points in this story, so I have shamelessly employed them. Perhaps the Task Force will rate this story XXX-P (for "pantyhose") so sensitive readers can avert their eyes. Girl Nights by Gingerfred Man Chapter One ? Marriage If you're married, or ever have been married, what I'm about to tell you should be absolutely no surprise. Women are difficult people to be married to. I mean us guys leave our underwear on the floor and all that, but you know where you stand with a guy. Am I right? With a woman, you're never sure whether she's going to be Saint Theresa or Godzilla. Our forefathers allegedly kept women "in their place." Women stayed home, took care of the kids, and cooked their husbands huge, delicious meals. Then, after an 18-hour day, the wife got naked and on her back so her husband could satisfy all his disgusting needs before he rolled over and snored at several decibels all night long. Sounds like heaven, eh, guys? Being the lord and master. Having a live-in servant who "does it" with you whenever you want. Somehow, I don't think any of that was ever really true. Women are too smart and too strong to let themselves be enslaved by their husbands, and they probably always have been. Today, though, I think most guys will agree that women have gained a certain measure of control that they never had. The balance has shifted more in women's favor than ever. That's not fair, but what can we do, eh, guys? Now, take my wife. Please. [Henny Youngman lives!!!] Sheila, who just turned 32, and I have been married nine years. My name is Craig and I'm 34. We have a five-year-old son named Jimmy. A good boy and the love of our lives. But there hadn't been a lot of other love in our lives. A lot of that, I think was just normal, married stuff. But I thought most of it stemmed from the fact that Sheila wanted to boss me, and I refused to be bossed. We always did a lot of family stuff together ? trips to the park, ice cream walks, pony rides, zoos ? and I'll admit readily that Sheila has always been a good mother. When she's around. I think the fact that she's the breadwinner and I'm the stay-at-home parent made her a little too big for her britches. For example, , I calculated that Sheila and I once had sex as many times a DAY as we had, when this story started, in a month. I told her that it was unacceptable, but she would say, "I'm tired." Or "I don't feel like it." Who cared if she felt like it? I needed it. Men need to empty their bags on a regular basis. Plus there's that whole Lord and Master thing, right? Was it any wonder that faced with the situation I just described, I decided to compensate. Chapter Two ? Best Friends Six months before this story started, we got a new neighbor. Mike was recently divorced after an eight- year marriage with two kids. At 33, a year younger than I, Mike worked out of his home and saw his kids every other weekend. Mike's a real guy, who enjoys the same sports that I do, likes a brewski now and then, and appreciates what fills a skirt. We became friends very quickly. Sheila seemed happy that I spent a lot of my free time with Mike. I figured it gave her more time to ignore me, more time with her girlfriends and less time with me begging for sex. Guys almost never actually share any feelings with other guys unless a) the other guy is a total stranger whom they'll never see again or b) the other guy is as close to a blood brother as possible in modern, non-native-American society. Amazingly, Mike and I reached that second level. And the consequences were enormous. One night around nine p.m., Sheila was out of town on a business trip and Jimmy was sound asleep. Mike and I were watching a small screen filled with color pictures of large guys running after some ball or other. Why women don't understand the fascination men have for that is beyond me. We had had several beers, when Mike asked me a really personal question. "How are things with you and Sheila, Craig?" If he had been other than my absolute best friend, my answer would have been, "Fine. You want another beer?" But I ventured the truth. I told him everything ? even the stuff about sex being rare and not so good. He was divorced. He would understand, the beers and I reasoned. His response was surprising. "Have you ever considered alternatives to sex with your wife?" I thought about that. Did he mean masturbation? I was very familiar with the concept. And its liberal application. Like nearly every other American man with the cover price of $10.95, I had a copy of the latest "Panty Boy" magazine hidden between the mattress and box spring. That little magazine had given me hours of comfort over the last few years. Ahhhh, those little, but aged at least 18 years, creampuffs aching for a real man's love. Still, I didn't think that was what Mike meant. I asked. "Do you mean masturbation?" He smiled. "Not at all. I mean sex with someone else in a way that's not really cheating on your wife." Huh? I asked. "Huh?" Mike said, "Craig Burdette would never cheat on his wife, right?" It was true. Mike continued. "But since every man has both an X and a Y chromosome, every man has two sides. Two identities. A male and a female. All men are Gingerfred men, both Ginger and Fred. Most men are afraid of their female identity and never explore it. That's a shame. If you were in touch with that identity, your feminine identity could breathe free, doing things that would astound you." I began to count the beer cans. I knew I had had six. How many had Mike had? "You're skeptical. I don't blame you," Mike said. "I know what I said is true, because I explore that identity on a regular basis." Now that was hogwash. "Mike, you're one of the guyest guys I know. You could never have one of those feminine identity things." Mike smiled again. "And you're one of the guyest guys I know. But that doesn't mean anything. Let me show you something." Mike stood up and unbuckled his belt. Oh crap. This was like college when I had beers with that fruity guy Jack Lesher and he came on to me. Was my best friend gay? Before I could run, Mike's pants were down and off. And a very interesting sight was revealed. Mike was wearing dark brown pantyhose. His cock, despite his alcohol consumption, was stiff, large, drooling and clearly visible through the pantyhose. As I said before, huh? I asked the obvious question. "Mike, why are you wearing pantyhose?" I wanted to also ask, "Why is your cock stiff and dripping?" but one step at a time. As an answer to both the asked and unasked questions, Mike began to rub his cockhead through the filmy material. Vigorously rub it. He was grunting a little and sort of gasping for air as he said, "I usually don't like pantyhose. I wear stockings and a garter belt, but I thought this might be a little less of a shock for you." Why were my ears hot as I watched my friend rub and tease himself over his pantyhose? Had I ever watched a guy jerk off? I couldn't remember. Those pretty little things in Panty Boy magazine didn't count. They weren't "guys" like Mike was. Holy crap! Was Mike going to cum? Please no. How humiliating for both of us! I would have gotten up to leave, but I was in sort of a predicament. My cock was about to burst every stitch in my pants. I looked in fascination, then cringed when Mike gave a tiny squeal (ICKKK!!!), then began to spurt his cream. As I sat there. Inside his pantyhose. Soaking his entire crotch area with his hot goo. Omigosh. No amount of beer could have induced me to do that. I mean blow my load as my male friend watched. And the squealing. The pantyhose. I felt the tidal wave of humiliation for Mike that he should have felt for himself, but apparently didn't. All he said was, "Whew! That was a good one. Do you have some wet paper towels or something?" Oh my. I still couldn't stand, so I told him where they were in the kitchen. Mike returned, then began to peel his pantyhose down and off. Oh no!! What should I do? What was he going to do? What did he expect of me? Whatever it was, I wasn't doing it. The cum-drenched pantyhose were off and in a ball on the floor. Mike held the head of his limp cock between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand as he washed his cummy cock, balls, pubic hairs, stomach and thighs. I was VERY uncomfortable. And terrified that *a* Mike would want me to "do" things or *b* My cock and balls would betray me, spurting their goo in front of my temporarily insane best friend, thereby making *a* come true. Mike rescued me. "That's a lot for you to process. I'll go home and talk to you more about it some other time." And he left. Could I ever face Mike again? Would he think about what he had just done and avoid me? Either way, it wasn't good. Dejectedly I cleaned up the beer cans and shuffled off to my empty bed; not that it was that much fuller when Sheila was around. I had been looking forward to the next few moments since Sheila had left. A new "Panty Boy" magazine, still in its plain, brown wrapper, was waiting for me upstairs. I wasn't so disturbed that I was about to ignore those delicious little sweethearts whom I visited when every new issue came out ? twice a month. The new edition was number 143. I had from 73 on lovingly archived in the attic, visiting them often when Sheila was at work and Jimmy at school. I stripped naked, then pulled the covers down. I had my jar of Vaseline on the nightstand and a whole roll of Bounty paper towels to clean up the expected, no eagerly awaited, spills. Like most guys, I blotted my troubles out as I pulled the wrapper off. Oh, Glory. It was the annual "Panty Boy" swimsuit issue. That tripled my excitement, as did the cover picture. A precious, perfect, 18-year-old sissy in perfect make-up and a string bikini was smiling happily as a man twice her size was drowning the kneeling, little, open-mouthed angel in cum. Cum was drooling off her pretty chin, down her throat and onto the nipples of her flat chest. Her bikini was pulled off her scrumptious nipples and her little sissy wee was poking out of her skimpy bikini bottom. It was spurting its own big load of sticky cream, an action the camera had skillfully captured in mid-ejaculation. I was ready to cum a bucket already and I had only looked at the cover. Like almost every man, I was ga-ga over those little pouffers. I never really thought about who they were or where they came from. Or why boys would want to dress up and look prettier than girls. And submit to men sexually. All I wanted to do was dream about fucking them. I was pretty dumb all right. Dipping my fingers into the jar of Vaseline, I rubbed up my stiff cock with slippery stuff. Then I opened my magazine. The first "pictorial" showed four delicious panty boys in "street clothes." They were emerging from a department store laden with shopping bags. In a flash of pastel dresses whose skirts were barely covering the tops of silky, tan stockings, and tottering along in barely-there sandals with five-inch-stiletto heels, the tasty quartet smiled at the camera. The captions identified the little darlings as Judy, a blonde with long, straight hair; Amy, a brunette with a curly, boyish cut, but whose face screamed "fuck me, Mister;" Sandy, a redhead with green eyes that pierced men's souls; and Cheryl, a second, even prettier blonde with a short, styled cut and legs that promised intense delights to every man who dared to gaze at them. They were happy and giggling, glowing with a femininity that reflected onto everyone in a ten-block radius. The panty boys piled their purchases into the trunk of a red mustang convertible with the top down, then got in. Cheryl drove. Amy was shotgun. The girls had just bought new swimsuits and were on their way to Sissy Beach, where all the panty boys in the area gathered to frolic with "real men." My cock remembered the frolics in last year's issue and twitched appreciatively In the next picture, the panty boys got out of the car and entered the bathhouse. A sign indicated "Panty Boys" to the right and "Real Men" to the left. The girls entered their ultra-femmy, pink locker room and began to undress. My cock stirred as I saw Judy stripped down to her stockings, garters, bra and heels. Her panties were halfway down her thighs and her little popsy was sticking up proudly. All three-and-a-half inches of it. Like most panty boys, Judy had pretty pink balls. The little angel took her bra off and exposed perfect erect nipples, framed by her bra-shaped tan lines. Try as I might, I couldn't stop thinking about Mike's performance that evening. He must have been really drunk, I imagined. Or kidding. Maybe that was it. Back to the girls. Amy, Cheryl and Sandy were now down to their stockings and heels. Oh my. Cheryl had the beginnings of some titties there. Unusual in Panty Boy magazine. And Sandy's were almost A-cup! A new editorial policy? I liked it. For variety, I meant. A flat-chested, puffy-nippled panty boy was still my first choice. The girls had their suits out of the bags and were admiring them. The suits were very brief. String bikinis that used a total of about two square feet of material for all four suits. Very sexy. Red-haired Sandy wore an emerald-green number that put my cock into major distress. Amy was so excited by Sandy that she knelt, moved Sandy's bathing-suit bottoms aside, and took Sandi's stiff three inches into her perfect, angel's mouth. Cheryl's electric- blue suit excited Judy so much that she knelt behind Cheryl and ate her pretty pootie out, making Cheryl pump her sweet juices out in big globs. That was just enough for me, thank you. All the craziness of the evening and the visit to Sissy Beach squeezed my balls and made me cum very hard. Like most guys, I fell right to sleep after. With the lights on and cum all over the place. What did I care? Sheila was out of town. I had weird dreams. Mike was in a skirt and heels and he had make-up on. He was kind of pretty. He and I were alone and he was sitting next to me on a couch. His lips were parted and he was sort of sitting back. Like a girl invites you to kiss her, you know? In the dream, I accepted the invitation. I kissed Mike and then, violently, woke up. I was sitting straight up, sweating. It was 2:20 a.m. The lights were on. Oh, man. What a stupid dream. I shuffled off to the bathroom and peed. It was very difficult with a flagpole erection, but I managed to get at least half of the pee in the toilet. When I got back to bed, my erection was still very much present. "Panty Boy" was still open to the page I had been reading. The one with the cum spots. May as well relax myself, before going to sleep, I thought. In the pictures, the girls did a lot of things to each other, then got into their suits and went out to face the real men. There were lots of real men on the beach. They were hairy and muscled, tanned and handsome. They were playing volleyball, drinking beer or just posing. They were all wearing very brief Speedo swimsuits and their large equipment was evident. The men stopped all activities when the girls, in their almost non-existent swimsuits and five-inch wedge heels (available, of course, from Frederick's), sissied by them. The camera caught the progression in bulges among the real men, none of whose Speedos hid the evidence of their arousal. Amy was flirting with a volleyball player, who picked her up and carried her to a lounge chair. Amy and the huge, muscled hunk kissed and fondled each other's cocks. His was twice as big as poor Amy's. Wow, she was beautiful. She spurted her cream, of course and the camera caught the real man using his fingers and her cum to lubricate her perfect bottom. The penetration of a half-inch- diameter hole with a two-and-a-half-inch- diameter cock was caught, as always by this fine publication, with arousing detail. I looked at the two lovers rutting and suddenly, I envisioned my friend Mike's head on Amy's body. He was the one taking and loving a four-star fucking. His cocklet was the one spurting sissy goo at the camera lens. Mine was the cock exploding violently and confusedly all over my stomach. What a weird night! Chapter Three ? Confusion The next morning, I got Jimmy off to school and cleaned the house. Mike and I often ate lunch together, but I was very wary that day. Who was he, anyway? He's my friend, I decided. I called. "Hi, Mike. How are you?" "Great, Craig. Lunch today?" See? Everything was OK. "Sure," I said. "When're you coming over?" "Actually, I made some homemade soup and stuff," he said. "Why don't you come here?" Hmmm. I guessed that was OK. I was a bit wary, but also comfortable with my resolve to avoid any "funny business." I went over to Mike's house early ? around 11:45. I was still a bit freaked about the previous night, but decided to face it all head on. I was sure Mike would laugh it off as a joke or something. Sometimes I just walked into Mike's house, but that day I knocked. When I heard Mike yell, "Come in!" I did so. "I'm in the kitchen," Mike said. So I went there. And got the second shock in as many days. Mike was wearing women's clothes!!! He had on a black miniskirt with black stockings and shiny stiletto pumps! His blue top seemed to be filled with small titties! His hair was styled and teased in a cute, short, feminine style. And he had expertly applied make-up. That was a huge surprise. The humongous surprise was that he looked terrific! Almost beautiful. Oh, what the hell. He was completely beautiful! If I hadn't been terrified, my cock would have burst my pants. Especially when he gave me a 1,000-watt smile and kissed me lightly on the lips. Holy cow! Mike saw my shocked face and he smiled. "Didn't I mention something about this last night, Craig?" he teased. "Uh, Mike. I didn't?.I mean??I'm not gay, Mike." That made him laugh. He had sort of a girl's laugh. Kind of cute. "I'm not either, Craig. Mike likes women and Katie likes men. A lot." Katie? "Who's Katie?" "You're looking at her, Craig." Oh. "Lunch is ready," Mike (or Katie) said matter-of-factly. "Take your seat and I'll serve you." Mike had never done that before. I sat at a table beautifully set with china, silver and fresh flowers. Usually we ate pizza or hot wings from the box. "Katie" had made beautiful little omelets with some nice sauce or something. Real cuisine. That part I liked. The bad part was watching my friend and having something grow hard in my pants. "She" seemed to have to get up several times to attend to things. Giving me ample opportunities to see her stunner, stockinged legs and perfect, wiggling butt. Not fair. Not fair at all. Katie talked a lot about her feminine side ? things she liked ? especially men. I dared to ask. "Have you ever?..done things??with men." She gave me a sultry look and said, "Oh, yes. Wonderful things." When I gulped, Katie got out of her chair, walked to my side of the table, and plopped her feminine self onto my startled lap. She kissed me on the lips and said, "Things like that." It was a nice kiss. Better than anything I had gotten from Sheila in years. Then she kissed me again, this time with tongue. She said, "And things like that." Nice things, all right. We kept kissing. You're kissing a girl, I said to myself. You're not gay. I held Katie in my arms and kissed her deeply, breathing in her "Passion" perfume and pulling her closer to me with my embrace. What was I doing? Why was it so good? Katie was so feminine and submissive ? just the way I always wanted Sheila to be, but she rarely was. Mike and I were already intimate emotionally, so it seemed natural that Katie and I would be intimate sexually. Kissing at least. I was only a little ashamed that I had a major stiffie. If you could call my five inches major. But all five were hard as diamonds when Katie upped the ante by touching it through my pants. I lurched when she did that and I knew that I was standing at the edge of something wide and deep. Turn away or move forward? Onward and upward, I decided. Katie sensed my decision and pulled my zipper down with her pretty fingers with red nails. She gave me an extra-tonguey kiss, then reached into my pants and boxers to pull out my bare cock. Much to Katie's credit, she fussed over my Johnson. She even ooohhed a little, telling me it was so hot and hard. And pretty. Wasn't sure I liked it described that way. The next thing I knew, Katie was off my lap. I didn't like that. But then she got on to her knees between my legs, smiled at me, and began to lick the head of my drippy peener. I liked that a lot. Katie knew what she was doing and she seemed very excited by the opportunity to make me happy. When was the last time a woman had been excited to please me? Sheila had never acted that impulsively, even before we were married. And she had never gone to her knees to give me a long, slow, slurpy blowjob like Katie was performing on me. Katie was darned good with her tongue and her hand cuddled my balls just the way I cuddled them when I was looking at the latest antics of the world's sexiest panty boys in my magazine. Katie was a lot like those panty boys. A little older, but cut from the same lacy cloth. Katie didn't take my cockhead into her mouth, she just licked all over its tender flesh and tongued my peehole. So, even when I warned her that I was about to spurt my goo, she had no protection from the spermstorm. The whole dirtiness of the scene, combined with my need for sex with a feminine person, made my gut churn. The warning signals alone ripped my guts and when I blew a quart of manly cream onto Katie's pretty face, I was in orgasmic agony. The good kind of agony. Geez!! What just happened? My chest was heaving. My cock was limp and dripping thick baby juice. Katie was looking up at me, smiling, her face drenched with my cum. It was so gay, but so wonderful. Would my life ever be the same again? I certainly hoped not. Omigosh! Katie was straightening her posture and pouting her lips for a kiss! But her face was covered with my cum. She deserved a kiss, but ickkkk! Still, I couldn't disappoint my friend. I plunged my face against her cum-soaked features and thrust my tongue between her glossed lips. That act alone ? that release from a lifetime of hang-ups ? produced a really big boner for me and a sigh of pleasure from Katie. Eventually, she broke the kiss and like a kitty cat, she began to lick all the juices from my face. It was so different and weird, that I began to giggle. I mean chuckle. Men don't giggle. She started giggling too. But then I sobered up. Now what? I thought. Katie was standing up, all pretty and smelling so nicely. Her little popsy was tenting her skirt. What should I do? What kind of a cad would I be if I just let her suffer? That was out of the question. But so was sucking her willie, of course. I wasn't GAY and that would be a GAY thing to do. Very gay. But what if I just, you know, touched it. Gave her a little manual relief as they used to say in the massage parlors. Yeah. Just touch it and we're all square. Katie was watching my brain process and she was smirking a little. Was she laughing at me or with me? Who gave a fuck? I was still seated. I grabbed the standing Katie by her hips and pulled her toward me. I looked up into her eyes. They were blue and quite pretty. She had done a great job with the old mascara, eyeliner and eye shadow. There was something in them. Need. She needed an orgasm produced with my assistance. And I was going to give it to her. She was watching me intently to see what I would do. Frankly, I had no plan. I decided to approach the situation with caution. If you can call lifting Katie's skirt, then hooking my thumbs into either hip of her pink, delicate panties cautious. Oh my goodness. Those panties were suffering from STS (severe tenting syndrome). Their safe removal was going to require some skill. I would have to ease them over that stiff, throbbing impediment. Carefully. Easy. There. Her naughty popsy was breathing free. It was a pretty little thing. I had seen it through the pantyhose the previous night, though I was too stunned to pay it proper attention. It was a nice size, maybe a little longer than my five inches. It had a cute, blue vein in the left side and a lovely, velvet helmet. Her doodle had been circumcised, but retained its beauty. I looked at it straight on and saw its tiny peelips parting for a kiss from me. Sweet goo was oozing between them as I contemplated breaking the tabooisest of all male taboos. I was considering kissing, licking and sucking my best friend's cock until it spurted in my mouth. Something in me said yes, but a large voting bloc said no. Katie saw my hesitation and knew what to do. She sat on my lap, began to kiss me, and put my right hand on her cock shaft. That was good. I could just pretend I was whacking myself off. Not as gay. What a relief. Of course some might interpret my kissing my best friend Mike as I stroked his cock to be "gay," but only the short-sighted. My new best friend Katie was groaning and wiggling with pleasure. Her expressions of delight were very arousing to me. Goodness knows she was a lot more enthusiastic than Sheila had been for some time. Katie seemed to really want me and care about me. And she was sensitive enough to know that I was very needy again. As we kissed and cuddled and I stroked her sissypole, Katie began to stroke my willie (which I had neglected to tuck away after the blowjob). She was very good at it. I was pretty good at stroking her little spritzer. We were both good at kissing. She made the cutest little grunts and gasps and then, zowie! Katie gave a half-scream and began to spurt big globs of cum all over herself and me. Her pleasure was intense and it triggered mine, making me cry out softly and splatter the sweet girl with three thick ropes of my own manly juices. It was wonderful!! For about ten seconds. Then post-ball-draining depression hit me. What had I done? Why did I do it? What did it all make me? What would I do from then on? Shame. Guilt. Exacerbated by a lifetime of no-nos, all jettisoned on the same day. Katie understood. She gave me the sweetest kiss, which, despite my despair, I returned. Then she said, "That was wonderful. But I know how you're feeling. Your feminine side doesn't emerge in one day. I can help you. Why don't you go home and think things over. I'll see you tomorrow, OK?" Feminine side? What was she saying? She was the feminine one, not me. Right? I accepted her suggestion to go home. My head was reeling as I walked home. I was a little miffed that she or he or whatever didn't want to see me until the next day. Jimmy would be home from school in an hour and I would spend about five hours with him, but then?.. Listen to me. I wasn't acting like someone who was ashamed, was I? Sheila would be home in two days. Then what? I got home and dragged myself to the bedroom. I lay on my back and thought about how the world had flipped over in the past 24 hours. Not surprisingly, I sought comfort in the usual place. Pantyboy magazine. I got up and retrieved the swimsuit issue from between the mattress and box spring, then lay on my back. The pages in the first half of the latest issue had stuck together, but I hadn't even looked at the back part. I began with the centerfold. It was a kneeling Cheryl, the blonde dazzler with short hair, long legs and the first signs of titties. She was wearing (if you could call it that) a black, string bikini. The bra had been pulled up to reveal titties, though mostly still just nipples, which a man would sell his 401(k) to suck. Her bikini bottoms had been pulled aside to reveal a three-inch, pink jewel with attendant pink peanuts in a pretty bag. The little tickler was red and stiff and the camera had captured the moment when a delicious rope of goo hurled itself toward the camera (and the reader). Cheryl's magnificent, perfectly made-up face was covered by a million-watt smile that, by itself, had me hard all over again. Cheryl's beautiful face was also covered in hot, creamy cum, which had drooled off her chin and cascaded all over her chest and nipples and was down to her bellybutton when the shutter clicked. She was drenched in a bucket of cum and she was deliriously happy. The perpetrator of the cummy assault was drooping and just touching Cheryl's right cheek. A glob of manjuice was forming a long drip. It was a very large man-thing, with a big, thick foreskin and a dark, huge ballbag. As I usually thought when reading my favorite piece of literature, "What a lucky guy!" Although I could only see Cheryl's lover's Johnson, I envied him and tried to imagine what it would be like to be him. Then it happened. I dropped my defenses for an instant and the barbarians got over the fence. The idea I didn't want entered my head and would not leave. What would it be like to be Cheryl? Not the men emptying their nuts on the sissies' pretty faces. What would it be like to be Judy, Amy or Sandy, the other pantyboys in that issue? Or in the other issues I had lovingly preserved? Wow. Ick. Gay. Bad thought. Why was I thinking it? But it wouldn't go away. It was like allowing yourself to go to a place you never allowed yourself to go. Once you were there, you wanted to look around a little. Get some postcards. Buy the t-shirt. Mike visited there frequently. Had a passport and everything. Frequent fucker miles. I decided to think a little about what it would be like. Just visit a border town, sort of. Don't drink the water. Not go to the capital or anything. I imagined what it would be like to be pretty and wear pretty things. Ohhhhhhh. To have men look at you with lust in their hearts and hard bulges in their pants. Aaaaaaaaah. I looked at the centerfold again and saw what Cheryl had let that man do to her. Cumming all over her. Degrading her. Funny, she didn't seem degraded. She looked happy. Could I make someone happy like that? Oh, no. I was ???..cumming. Hard and hot. Thinking about being a girl and doing "things" with men. Like Mike did. Did I want to be like Mike? Chapter Four ? The Other Side Jimmy got home at three and I was glad. Daddy time with my lad took my mind off the messy situation I had gotten myself into. Really messy. I began thinking about what happened ten seconds after I finished reading "Goodnight Moon" to Jimmy, kissed him and turned off his light. The most obvious evidence that I was mentally reviewing the last 24 hours was the obscene stiffness in my penile area. I was incredibly, but non-specifically aroused. Was I stiff because I was thinking about the blowjob I had received from my best-friend-turned-temptress? Was I throbbing and drippy because I wanted to, as a man, explore Katie's attributes a bit more thoroughly? Or was I really most aroused by those naughty thoughts of girlying up and playing the pantyboy for a nice man or two. A tough call. Knowing that I needed some comfort, I turned to my one, true, reliable friend ? my cum-stained copy of the new Pantyboy magazine. After all, I had never gotten to the second pictorial in the swimsuit issue. And I had paid $10.95 for the whole issue. And something had to be done about my condition, didn't it? I lay on my back, towel on my left, Vaseline jar on my right, and began to peruse my periodical. The second pictorial was called "Beach Bunny" and it was the story of Mary Patricia, a cute, barely-18 "intern" working in an office. She was a gorgeous pantyboy, tall and willowy, with straight, blonde hair falling halfway down her back. She was dressed for success at the office, wearing a black dress cut to fit her delicious, feminine frame, and showing lots of long, sexy, black-stockinged leg. Her four-inch stiletto sandals made her stand about six-foot-three, which had all the men in the office even more gaga than one might expect. But Mary Pat was all business. A career girl, who nevertheless had a little tent in her skirt from working around all those hunky men. Mary Pat wiggled around the office stopping pacemakers right and left. Then her boss, Mr. Hunkley, said, "It's such a beautiful day, Mary Pat. Why don't you take the afternoon off and go to the beach. You need to work on that tan." Mary Pat apparently squealed with delight, then thanked, hugged and kissed (with just a hint of tongue) her boss. She leaned to kiss him, revealing her stocking tops and bare thighs. That stirred my willie and made me do something I was certain I never would. I was going to see what it felt like to wear nylon on my legs. That was no big deal, right? I was just exploring a teeny bit. I wanted to try stockings, but Sheila didn't have any, so it was black pantyhose (Ick, but better than nothing). "How do you do this?" I thought. I was afraid of putting a run in the nylon, especially since my legs were hairy. Would they look better if I shaved my legs? Maybe I should?.. OK, it was official. I was losing my brains. I got my right foot in the leg and eased it down??.unnnhhhh. It felt wonderful and it wasn't helping my rigid condition one bit. I slid the cool, silky nylon about halfway up my calf, then did the same for my left foot. When I got both feet in, I slowly pulled the silky things up my legs. They were rolled when I got them to my crotch. I unrolled them slowly up and over my erect phallus, wincing at the sensation of femininity covering a male "area." If I moved the wrong way, I would cum. All over myself and Sheila's pantyhose. That was sort of my plan, but I wanted to hold back just a bit. I padded over to the mirror and looked at myself. My semi-hairy chest was bare and my entire lower half was swathed in nylon. I had a guy's face, so I didn't look at that. I looked at my legs, and I was pleased with what I saw. They were long and shapely. I remember thinking that they would look better if I had big heels like Katie wore. Then I ditched that thought. The pantyhose were just a little pastime for when my wife was out of town. Like one of those things that look like a flashlight that you see advertised on the Internet. You fit it over your cock and jack it up and down until something nice happens. It's supposed to feel like a pussy. Maybe it does. And it doesn't tell you to take out the garbage after. Me wearing pantyhose was like that. Pretend stuff. Not gay. I stopped looking and eased myself back in bed. I lay very still as I thought about how those pantyboys in the magazine felt when men "used" them for sex. Ohhh. Being sexy and beautiful and being used. I was "on the verge" again. If Jimmy called me for a glass of water at that point, he would have an interesting story to tell Mommy when she came home. Figuring I might as well enjoy the full experience, I picked up my magazine again. Mary Pat had arrived at the beach and she was in a little, private, changing shack. Her dress was on a hanger on a hook and she was merrily removing her intensely delicious lingerie one fantasy-producing piece at a time. She stood beautifully naked, holding her skimpy swimwear for the reader to see, smiling at the reader as if she wanted him to join her in the shack. To kiss her puffy lips. Suck her sizzling-hot popsy and finger her tight, warm pussy. Ohhhh. Then came the "big surprise" of the pictorial. "Mr. Hunkley!!!" the naked Mary Pat said, as her boss joined her in the no-longer-private accommodation. "What are you doing here?" Hunkley leered and said, "You know I want you, Mary Pat. You're all I ever think about." Mary Pat appeared powerless against such devotion from her boss and surrendered to his every disgusting desire. The next 16 pictures showed the heavenly doll and her ardent, older suitor kissing, sucking, licking, eating out, and fucking in a variety of poses. In every picture, either Mary Pat or Mr. Hunkley was spurting major amounts of cum. And it was the real stuff. The word is that Panty Boy shoots their pictorials over several days so there is cum and more cum available and every real man-pantyboy shot is a cum shot. Of course it's the number one magazine in America. It gives its readers what they want. I stopped and focused on one incredible photo. Mary Pat was on her back, her arms flung back in complete submission to her man. He was on top of her, pumping her bottom full of manmeat and she was cumming all over herself. Her expression was one of intense pleasure and total serenity. This was someone who knew where she fit into the world. I thought. Could I do that? Could I surrender and be adored like that? Would Katie show me how? Did I want to? I looked into Mary Pat's eyes, rubbed my cock through the pantyhose, whimpered most unmanfully, and drenched Sheila's Sunday-best pantyhose with a very sissyish load of cream. I had never been so excited about my possible future. Or so scared. Chapter Five ? New Horizons I came into Sheila's pantyhose twice more that evening, then fell asleep. I couldn't help it, you know. The first mess occurred when I saw pretty Judy take a beach volleyballer's thick rammer into her tiny bottom as the man's teammate sucked her balls. The picture of her cries of release as she frosted the man's face with her freshly squeezed juice set me off. Later, so did the picture where Amy spurted her cream as two men sucked her nipples and a third kissed her mouth. You can't have fun like that most days unless you're a sissy. Thank goodness I awoke at 5 a.m. or Jimmy would have gotten an education quite a bit earlier than he should have. I was a bit worried about cleaning all the cum from Sheila's pantyhose, since it had sort of caked on, but it was actually pretty easy. As I was washing away the spermy evidence, I was picturing what it would have been like to fall asleep with a faceful of cum. It would have dried and caked and glued my eyelids shut. Ick. I was going to have to be much tidier in the future. I got into my guy stuff and got my little guy ready and off to school. Then I was faced with the question, what next? Should I share my weird ideas and feelings with Mike? Should I pretend it didn't happen? Should I get the back issues of Pantyboy from the attic, put the pantyhose back on and stroke myself until my vision was severely impaired? All viable options. I decided to speak to Mike. He had gotten me into this mess and he would probably know the way out. Or farther in. It was about ten a.m. when I called Mike and asked if I could come over. The way things had been going, I could have walked into anything. But things were back to "normal" at Mike's house when I arrived. He was dressed as himself ? khakis and a navy blue polo. He looked really good as a guy. So good, I felt my cock stir in my pants. It was weird piled on weird. Standing face-to-face with my best friend, I opened my mouth to speak and nothing happened. There was so much to say that I had nothing to say. So Mike took charge. "That was really nice for me yesterday, Craig. Was it for you?" Oh my. The oldest post-"date" line in the book. My answer? More inability to articulate. Mike smiled. I saw Katie in his eyes. And that straightened my equipment as well. I wanted to crank the calendar back two days and start over. Mike seemed comfortable with both the present and the future. "Craig, I sense your discomfort. But we have to talk." Easy for him to say. His voicebox hadn't been recalled by the factory. He went on. "I know you enjoyed what you and Katie did yesterday. Your spewing cock was ample evidence of that." I blushed, but he was right. "I also know that you felt ashamed and guilty about it." True again. "What I want to know is did you want to be like Katie, just a little?" Did I? He had me there. I squeaked out a tiny "Yes." What a bad time for my voice to return. Mike smiled. He looked at me carefully, started to speak, stopped, then said, "Have you worn any women's things in the last 24 hours?" I turned fire-engine red. That was answer enough for Mike. "It's OK, Craig," he said. "It's perfectly normal to explore your feminine side once you know you have one. What did you wear?" I was extremely uncomfortable, but my cock was ripping my pants. "P-p-pantyhose." Mike was being very careful not to make fun of me. At first, he said nothing. Then he went into the kitchen and came back with a cup of coffee for each of us. We sat in silence for a few moments, then he said, "Did you cum in the pantyhose?" I nodded. "Several times?" "Yes," I said. Shamed for life. Then Mike asked the killer question. "What were you thinking of before you made the cums?" That one I didn't want to go near. But I needed to know what was happening to me and Mike was the key. "I was reading 'Panty Boy' magazine. I read it all the time and I spunk all over myself thinking about making love to those scrumptious little creampuffs." Mike nodded. "That's perfectly normal." Of course. "But last night, for the first time, I thought about what it would mean to BE one of those little pussy boys. Being loved and kissed and sucked and handled and stroked and fucked by a man. I came so hard and so often that I fainted." "Sure you did, Sweetie. Every man who lets himself think about it feels the way you did. You're not strange or gay. You're just experiencing something completely new." Sweetie? He called me "sweetie?" And he thinks my dream of being buttfucked by another guy while I'm wearing frillies is normal? Maybe I should just put the coffee cup down, back out of the door, and begin to make the arrangements to move my family and me to another state. With another name. But then Mike said, "Sheila won't be home until tomorrow afternoon. I'll come over after Jimmy goes to bed and we'll have a 'girl night.'". What was a girl night? I didn't ask, but it sounded awfully, awfully good. I quickly agreed and ran home to take care of an urgent matter in my pants. Jimmy went to sleep around eight and there was a knock on the door 15 minutes later. It was "Katie," not Mike, and she looked very hot. She had done something dramatic with her eyes and she had a curly, straight, long, blonde wig that made her look ten years younger. She gave me a wet, tonguey kiss, right on the lips, then took her raincoat off to give me a preview of what she meant by a "girl night." Katie was wearing a miniscule, black, babydoll nightie that barely touched the base of her rampant prick. Funny, I hadn't noticed before, but she had shaved her chest, stomach and armpits and her legs, all the way up to a tiny patch of pubic hair that looked delightfully girlish. I could see her strong silky thighs above her black stocking tops and my poor boner was as big and hard as it gets. Her spectacular legs were in silky nylon and the sight of her five-inch, stiletto, sandaled mules was putting me into orbit. I had no idea what was expected of me at that moment. I was all sexed up and had no idea where anything was leading. Fortunately, Katie had a plan. A very good plan. The first thing she did was lead me to my bedroom, then take my clothes off. She had a bagful of stuff for me for the evening, but she knew an emergency when she saw one. "Let me relax you a little before we start, Honey," the beautiful babe said. Well, I figured I was getting another blowjob and that sounded awfully nice. But I was wrong. Katie laid me on my back and asked me to lift my legs. Odd, but I did it. Then she began to massage my needy prick. Very nice, but I was hoping for?.. Whoa!!!!!!!!! Still stroking my cock, Katie put her tongue deeply into my bottomhole. Well, that was a new element to our relationship. And a new sensation in my life. I almost hit the roof. It was incredible. I forgot completely that Katie was also Mike and surrendered to the raw pleasure of being anally eaten out. And Katie knew how to do just that. In my condition, and with her excellent handiwork proceeding concurrently on my cock, I soon spasmed and moaned and let a glorious cum erupt from my tortured balls. The best cum of my life and we had only begun our evening. I was in heaven. And simultaneously in the "other place." I could NEVER do that to Katie. Would she expect me to? Or to suck her penis? NEVER!!!! I was thinking about all the things I wouldn't do when Katie climbed on top of me and kissed me with the tongue that had just been up my butt. And yet, I lived on. Katie broke the kiss, licked up my cummy mess, then became all business. "Let's see how the girlie you looks, Sweetie," she said. I was very curious and eager to see the end result. I watched the mirror intently as Katie made up my face, explaining each procedure carefully to me, telling me I would have to learn to do it all myself. Watching it happen step-by-step was a lot more interesting than just "Bang!" seeing it all at once. It was as if a stranger who had been hiding was being revealed. A cute stranger. Not beautiful, but cute. And feminine. I was shocked at how feminine. My lips. My eyes. Katie saw that I was pleased and she was delighted. "Not bad, Honey. Not bad," she said. "Want to go for the bonus round?" "OK" Katie took me to the bathroom and had me sit on the toilet. Over the next 25 minutes, Katie shaved my legs, armpits, chest, and my bottom, even between the cheeks. I was smooth as silk and feeling more feminine than I had in the rest of my life up to that point, when Katie reached into her bag and pulled out a black babydoll that matched her own. Submissively, I raised my arms and let her slip the cool, wispy garment, my first femmy item except for those pantyhose, over my head. Ohhhhhhhh. Then she showed me how to roll a delicious pair of black stockings over my toes, around my heels and up my shaved, smooth legs. As the second stockings reached the midpoint of my thigh, I shuddered, began to spasm and cum in thick globs. I liked "girl night" so far. Katie was having a very good time too, though she hadn't even cum once yet. Katie had a garter belt and two-inch, starter pumps for me in her bag to complete my ensemble. I hooked the belt, then the garters on and stepped into the shoes. I felt so girlish, and couldn't wait to totter over to the mirror to admire myself. Oh my. The mirror was my friend that night. The guy side of me was still inside and was ogling the babe reflected back at him. My guy side was especially turned on by the little pink pricklet poking under the mirror babe's babydoll and her little bag of peanuts dangling daintily below. I turned this way and that, giving Narcissus a run for his reputation. Then I heard, "Oh, Sweetie. It's lonely in bed by myself." I had almost forgotten that Katie, whose ballbag was still full, pretty Katie, was waiting for me in bed. I tore myself away from my orgy of self-adoration and rejoined her. I must say, she looked scrumptious lying there, on her back. Her pospy sticking up sweetly. Her lips, so full and inviting. What should I do? What were my limits? A voice inside me said, "No limits" and my conflicts drifted away. I kneeled on the bed between Katie's silk-clad legs, then bent over and took her prick in my hand. I rubbed its tip between my thumb and two fingers, enjoying her obvious pleasure. Then I leaned forward and for the fist time in my life, took a cock into my mouth. It surprised Katie, who thought I wouldn't do that for some time. But, heck. I knew I would give in to my girlie side eventually. I adored everything we had done thus far. So I took the leap. Katie arched her back and moaned as I sucked the velvet tip, licking up the sweet precum. She wiggled with pleasure. Every guy knows how a cock should be sucked, so it was no surprise that I was really good at cocksucking. I gave my new girlfriend a thorough ride, licking the hot shaft up and down, kissing and sucking her little plums, then returning to lavish oral attention on the peelips. I was a little concerned about how to act when Katie got around to spurting her sissy cream, but I had seen her guzzle mine down and figured I could so the same. I licked and kissed and adored her doodle until her pretty eyes got wide and I felt a hot spurt in my face. I capped the tip with my mouth and caught the last five globs as they evacuated her girlish bag. She was wiggling and squealing and having an exceptionally good time. Mmmmmm. Katie's girlish goo was hot and creamy and not at all unpleasant. And it was hetero, right? I mean, I wasn't gay. Just "visiting" my girl side. With my first belly full of cum, I licked Katie squeaky clean, then moved side by side with her for some deep kissing. Katie thoughtfully licked her cum off my face, then kissed me better and longer than Sheila ever had. We were both hard and panting when we broke it off. Katie smiled at me and said, "Wow. You have a strong girl side, my dear. And a pretty one." I blushed. "What's your girl name?" she asked. That was a surprise. "I don't have one. Do I need one?" Katie laughed. "There's no law, but you don't look like anyone named Craig at the moment. Except for your stiff 'little gentleman' here." She tickled my tickler. I didn't know what to say. Then a name I liked popped into my head. Ember. Contemporary. Femmy. Smoldering. A little on the trashy side. Perfect. "Call me Ember," I announced proudly. Katie hugged and kissed me. "I love you, Ember," she said. "We'll be girlfriends forever." I felt warm and loved that first girl night. Katie and I kissed and licked and sucked and cuddled until we fell asleep, exhausted in the best possible way. I even overcame another obstacle by eating out Katie's sweet pootie so well that she came hard and fainted. I guessed I was a pretty good girl so far. Chapter Six ? Girl Morning I had taken no chances that Jimmy, who was a very sound sleeper, but woke up at six each day, would walk into my bedroom and expand his education way too soon. With four alarm clocks set for five a.m. I felt pretty safe. Still, when I awoke, my first reaction was to panic. It was a very pleasant awakening. Katie was kissing me and rubbing her delicious body against mine. The little scamp wanted more and it was only four a.m.! Well, I was delicious. I lay on my back and whimpered submissively as Katie exposed my right nipple. What was she doing? She?.. unnnnnnhhh. She was kissing and licking my nipple. I had never??? oooohhhh. That was very nice. She kept doing that. Nicely. I had never felt anything like that. I felt so girlish. Then she upped the ante. Katie had licked my bottomhole and I had done the same to hers. But now she was putting her?.. aaaahhhh??..fingers in there. That was fantastic. She was rubbing them in and out as she kissed my left nipple. Then she found my prostate. And I found what a real cum feels like. Holy cow. My guts exploded. And she hadn't even touched my "clitty." Where had girl nights (and mornings) been all my life? I emptied every molecule of cum from my little bag. And screamed so loud that I was afraid Jimmy would awake and call 9-1-1, just as we had taught him. My chest was heaving as silky, sexy, girlish Katie kissed me. I wanted her. I wanted to make her happy. Then I did, in a way I would not have imagined possible. Katie fucked me! I didn't know "girls" like us did that. I didn't know a cock would fit in my bottom. I didn't know that I would adore a clitty in my bottom. Katie cured my ignorance. Katie's fingers in my bottom had been coated with a lubricant. She knelt between my legs and squeezed an ample amount on her fingers, then applied it liberally to her stiff sissy stick. The peehole was looking right into my eyes. I knew what that one-eyed creature wanted and I was scared! And very excited. "Don't worry, Baby," Katie said. "I won't hurt you. You're going to be fucked like a real girl. You'll love it. Now put your calves up on my shoulders and relax." I whimpered, but complied. A little eagerly, even. I was turning into a submissive little tramp! Katie was telling me how pretty and sexy I was as she put her cockhead at the lubed entrance to my bowels. Standing at the edge of yet another precipice, My eyes filled with girlish tears ? fear mixed with joy. I was a girl who was also a boy in love with a girl who was also a boy. Then she pushed it in me. Halfway in with the first thrust. I felt a dull pang of pain. Katie leaned over and kissed my mouth, telling me how brave I was. Then she gave me the second half of her salami. I was completely filled with cock and began to gasp, as if it were in my throat, not my butt. I felt totally emasculated and completely happy. When she began to move her cock back and forth, my entire body felt as if it were on the verge of an orgasm. I know I was squeaking and desperate for release, though my cock was soft as a rag doll. Katie was enjoying herself as well. "I've never been in a tighter, hotter pussy," she said. She liked to compliment me and girlish me ate it up. Katie's face scrunched up, just as mine does when I'm dropping a really big load into Sheila (if my long-term memory served me correctly). She pushed, pushed, and PUSHED and then gave her own girlish squeal. My bottom was flooded with her sissy sperm. I had made someone really happy. By being pretty, cooperative and submissive. And the thought, made me very happy. Following which, my body made me very happy by taking me through a shuddering, full-body, knockdown, drag-out cum. My cock never got hard and all it produced was a long, watery dribble. But every nerve ending in my body orgasmed for about 30 life-altering seconds. I began to sob. With joy and fear about the future. I was a man, not a woman. But how could I live as a man, when being a woman made me so happy? Katie understood. She held me in her sweet arms and comforted me. "It's OK, Ember. Everything will work out. I love you." And she kissed me. I kissed her back. "I love you too, Katie," I said. And I meant it. I hustled her pretty little butt out of my house so I could butch up, then get my little boy off to school. I wasn't totally butched, though. I wore nice pink panties. Chapter Seven ? The Return of Sheila Mike knew I had to spiff up the house for Sheila's return, so he didn't come over and plow my pasture at lunchtime. Darn. I was dreading Sheila's return for a lot of reasons. First, I would have loved another girl night with Katie. Several more. Second, I didn't like Sheila very much anymore, now that I had seen how nice and feminine a tgirl could be. And third, I didn't want to slip back into my "man" role right then, especially with Sheila, who didn't appreciate it anyway. I got a surprise. Sheila was sweet and loving. Several times she said something about me being "different" and "nicer or something" since she left home and returned. My big surprise was that she wanted a good fucking when we went to bed. Then another. And yet another. Wow. Sheila said that I seemed so much more interesting somehow and more sensitive in my lovemaking. She asked me why, but I pleaded ignorance. Then I fucked her. It was fun. It was as if being a part-time woman made me a much better man in my wife's eyes. Oh well. The guy side of me didn't turn down hot, juicy pussy. I was very worried that Sheila would ask the big questions, like, "Why did you shave your legs, chest and armpits" I was going to mumble something about just wanting to see how it felt, then starting an argument to draw attention away from the subject. But she didn't seem to notice. After our workout, Sheila fell into an exhausted sleep and it was only 10:30, but I was troubled and awake. I wondered what Katie was doing at that moment. I slipped out of bed and went to the window, then gazed at Katie's house for a few minutes, thinking of our wonderful, forbidden love. Then my heart was split and stomped on At 10:40 p.m., a car pulled into Katie's driveway. Was Mike getting a pizza? No. A handsome, blond man got out of the car and walked toward the door. My girl side tingled. He was very hunky. He reminded me of an Aryan George Peppard in "The Blue Max." Another surprise. My girl side was apparently attracted to men. Men like the hunks who took the little creampuffs to heaven in "Panty Boy" magazine. I began to wonder if men would be attracted to Ember. Then it happened. Katie came out of the house (not Mike). She was wearing a very sexy pink peignoir set. Not what one wears to pay for pizza. When she minced along on stratospheric mules and fell into the man's arms, all was lost! Katie was cheating on me! With a man! As I sobbed with heartbreak, it never occurred to me that perhaps I had cheated on Katie by fucking Sheila early and often. All I could think about was Katie, my Katie, under that man. Surrendering her pussy to his disgusting desires. Oh no. I got a drippy hardon, just thinking about it. Of course, I hardly slept that night. I watched the car in the driveway to see if it were moved ? a fruitless, useless exercise, since it was there all night. The car was finally gone when Sheila woke me from a brief nap at six and asked for a little waker-upper, which I naturally gave her since my cock had been hard all night thinking about what was going on next door. My ball bag was empty when Sheila left for work and Jimmy left for school that day. I considered taking a much-needed nap, but I had two big items on the agenda. First, some thorough pouting. Then, a confrontation with Mike or Katie or whoever-the-heck lived next door about the previous evening's activities. I pouted for about an hour, then, I strode over to Katie's house, still dressed as Craig, but under my trousers, wearing black stockings, with a matching garter belt, and pink panties pulled over the garters. Mike was all smiles when he opened the door. I was all ready to give him a load of crap, but then he said, "Oh, Sweetie, I missed you. Let's get girlied up and have a nice morning and afternoon together." That sounded a lot better than throwing a hissy fit. Another difference between tgirls and women. Women would rather fight than fuck any day. We sissied upstairs, exposing our female sides as we exposed our stiff little popsies. As we sat side by side, applying our makeup, we blew kisses at each other. I was getting all hot and steamy thinking about our imminent pleasure, but I had to ask. "What were you doing with that man last night, Katie?" She gave me that ironic little smile she does so well and said, "The same thing you and your wife were doing, I imagine, Honey." Good point. But I pushed back a little. "But we're married. I had no choice." Katie smiled. "There are always choices, Ember," she said. "Hans and I are old friends. He loves my girl side and whenever he's in town, we spend a wonderful night together." Hans? "He's German," Katie went on. "A great lover and a nice man. A generous man." She held up a very expensive-looking bracelet as evidence. Wow. Men give tgirls stuff too. Pretty stuff. I hadn't thought of that. Katie said, "You're jealous. I like that. But you don't have to be. I love you and I always will. But Katie needs men too. And so does Ember, whether she knows it or not." I thought about that and suddenly, helplessly, I started ejaculating in my panties, whimpering sissily as the cum spurted, then cascaded freely. Maybe I did need a man. Chapter Eight ? The Girlish Life Those next few weeks were the best time of my life. Every night and all weekend long, Sheila wanted "it" from her suddenly attractive husband. She kept telling me that I seemed different ? new and improved or something. She never mentioned the fact that I regularly shaved my body. She never noted the fact that a lot of our lovemaking happened with her on top, pistoning up and down on my cock as I lay on my back. That was OK with me. When Sheila was at work, I was living the girlish life with Katie. I wore stockings, garter belt and panties under my male clothes all day, changing just before Sheila came home. When I had errands or shopping to do, I was always in a state of high excitement ? mortally scared that someone would discover what a little sissy I had become. Of course I was also thinking about what would happen if a man found out, but liked what he saw. I would look at men when I was out. Was I imagining that they were looking at me too? Were there men who could see that someone's girl side was pushing to get out? What if I found one, at the grocery store, let's say? And he said something like, "I know what you're wearing under your trousers." I would shake with fear and be unable to speak. He would know how I felt and say, "Don't be afraid, Little One. I think you're beautiful." Little One? Beautiful? Ohhhhhh. What if we left the full grocery carts and got into his car. Then went to his apartment. We would close the door and he would take my awful boy things off. I would tremble, but fix my face as he stripped nude. I would be very girlish in my make-up, bra, panties, garter belt, and fully fashioned, black stockings. He would take me into his arms and kiss me, holding my pantied bottom in his strong hands. Then he would insinuate his fingers under my panties and tickle my "pussy" as he kissed my neck, smooching his way down to my nipples. I can't tell you what would happen next, because by the time I got to that point in the fantasy, my balls always exploded and I messed up yet another pair of panties. Katie and I would talk about that fantasy during our lovely lovemaking sessions. Sometimes she would suck my popsy so sweetly as I narrated my man-filled dreams. Sometimes I would suck hers as she told me true stories about her experiences with some of her male lovers. My sweet angel had been around! And was still touring. This sort of activity would always end up with me on my back, squealing and cumming as Katie pushed her clitty in and out of my tight, hot, submissive receptacle. I guess I was ready for a male lover. But still scared. It seemed that my libido was always on red alert during that time. Even with Sheila. When the new issue of Panty Boy went on sale, I bought it, seeking guidance. Although it was an unusual oracle, Panty Boy seemed to speak to me at that time in my life. The day that I brought the newest issue home, I couldn't wait for its counsel. It was 10 a.m. and Mike/Katie was seeing some client, so "Panty Boy" and I were alone. I slipped off the plain brown wrapper and gasped at what I saw. It was the annual "Hard at Work" issue. I loved that issue. I knew it would be filled with delicious panty boys dressed for business. With lots of hunky men giving the little dolls the business in their pretty bottoms. The cover alone had me "on the verge." An angelic, 18-year-old creampuff was wearing a tight, short-skirted, women's business suit. Her long, blonde hair was pinned up in a professional bun. Her large glasses made her appear a bit more "intellectual." Her raised skirt, lowered, pink panties, and tiny, stiff, sticky-cream-spurting peeny made her look like the girl I wo