Andy 23 free porn video

The shiny, colorful poncho made me fairly conspicuous. But somehow I was able to convince myself that no one would look at me twice even though I was wearing a dance costume with a short skirt instead of pants. I sat at the museum's bus stop. Naturally my bus had just left and I had to wait nearly another half hour. Why did that always happen to me? By way of exception a bus could just then be coming. Or five minutes later. After a few minutes I was getting cold in spite of the poncho. At the freezing point a wet coldness is worse than a real freeze. The cold just seeps right into a person. After another minute I couldn't stand it and began to hop up and down in place. That created a little warmth, but it was dreadfully boring. Then I thought of what the girls did that one time to warm up. I tried to imitate several of the movements, after all there was no one around to see. Uh oh, that wasn't so simple. Bringing the knee up to the belly was one of the movements that I could remember. Probably because in doing that their skirts flew high into the air. But I wasn't agile enough. My leg couldn't reach high enough. I seemed to be really stiff, and on the stage that had all seemed so simple. And the girls had also stretched their legs up over their head. I couldn't even begin to think of doing that. But I did get warm pretty fast. Completely unexpectedly I heard a voice next to me. "For which group are you training?" I turned and saw a middle-aged woman standing next to me. "Eh, not for anyone." "I thought... because of your uniform." "No, I just happened to have that on. It's a long story." "Oh, then that explains it naturally." I didn't understand. "Eh, what?" "That you were moving rather unskillfully. You would have had to have a bad trainer who taught you to move like that." "How do you mean that? I was just jumping around because I was cold." "Now I don't believe that. You were trying to imitate something, weren't you? And it had something to do with this uniform. Is that why you put it on?" "Well,... I did see how the girls were dancing..." "And now you wanted to be like them? But you haven't paid enough attention to your uniform. Underneath there is always special underwear worn for when your skirt flies up. Usually lacy or frilly pants or a leotard the same color as your uniform." "Where did you learn all that?" She sighed. "I used to dance myself. Unfortunately I can't do it anymore now, but I teach girls in my free time occasionally." "Oh." "Would you like to dance?" I thought about how I used to wish to dance like the girls. I nodded hesitantly. "And you would like to be a girl?" That struck me like a lightning bolt. Indeed I nearly fell over. I felt how blood shot into my face. How had she noticed that I wasn't a girl? I could speak a word. "You don't need to feel ashamed. I wasn't really sure until right now." "How... how did you figure it out?" I finally asked in a fragile voice. It didn't seem to bother her in particular. "When your skirt flew up, it seemed to me your pelvis seemed awfully narrow. But I wasn't sure because you have a rather small waist. It's not natural, is it? It looks a little rigid." I nodded. "Yes. The whole thing began this morning in the museum. There was this manure pile..." And I began to relate the story. I wasn't finished yet when the bus arrived. We climbed abord and sat next to each other. "I have to get off again right away, I live here," she said. "So do I." "Why don't you come to my place? I'd like to hear the end of your story. Then I can tell you something about dancing." She gave me her address, and then she had to get off. I waved to her. One stop later I got off, too. Quickly I walked the short stretch home. I still almost ran into a neighbor lady because I was so deep in my thoughts. She looked at my costume in great surprise, but didn't look at my face. I don't think that she recognized me. ## I had been standing for quite some time in front of the mirror. I looked good in the uniform, it seemed to me. More than anything else my narrow waist looked great. And I was just plain astonished at my upper dimensions. Well, it wasn't actually very much, but it was without the aid of a bra or any kind of stuffing. My own genuine little breasts. I moved in front of the mirror. At that my skirt flew up, which wasn't particularly difficult to cause. The material was very lightweight. The woolen underwear looked really terrible. And she had seen me like that at the bus stop! I needed some kind of lacy panties. No, I said to myself, that not what you mean. The costume doesn't belong to me. It's foolish thinking about accessories. Hesitating I reluctantly took it off. I nearly used a little difficulty with the zipper as an excuse to keep it on. But Mom definitely shouldn't learn about this. Then the underpants followed quickly. I had let my enthusiasm for the costume repress the reality about how itchy it all was. After one relatively shapeless part, I pulled on a pair of my prettiest panties. By way of quasi compensation. The bodyshaper/foundation magically produced a super beautiful waist, but it wasn't at all sexy. Quite the opposite. In the mirror I couldn't see well enough how it was laced. I was just about ready to call Biene or Svenja to help, when I had the idea of using a second mirror. We had a small cosmetics mirror, which I could now hold up in front my face in order to see into the large mirror in back of my waist. A little tricky, but it worked. And above all it was no longer reversed in the mirror. But in one thing it didn't help. Because the laces were thin, the knots were much smaller than had been the case with the apron. I couldn't get them with bare hands, and not with a ballpoint pen either. The knots were too small. Hmm... I needed something smaller. But what? Knitting needles! Did we have any of those? I set about on a search. I did in fact come up with a couple. With the mirror in one hand and the needles in the other I renewed my attack on the knots. It didn't go so easily as with the apron. But I did succeed, even if it hurt my hand because of the unaccustomed position. Not just one hand but also my shoulder. But then it came undone. I quickly got everything off, and then got under the shower for a while. ## After school there was another appointment with the psychologist. I wasn't at all enthusiastic about it because I didn't want to talk about the most recent events. I hoped I could get by without saying anything. But I wasn't especially optimistic since he could really get to the root of a matter once he'd gotten wind of it. Again I was wearing my short pleated skirt, because I didn't want to show up as a boy if I had to undergo the risk of being called "Andrea." I had to wait a while in the waiting room because I was too early. Then a girl came out of the doctor's office and looked at me curiously. So curiously that I didn't care for it. Didn't I have enough make-up on? Was my hair a mess? Actually I had just given it the once over and not fastened it back. I wished it was again attached by the net so that I didn't have to worry. Or even better long hair... But now I was being called - Andrea of course - and I walked in to see the psycholgist. "Hi, Andrea," he greeted me, which I returned. After a few sentences of smalltalk he said, "I need your help, Andrea." I thought that was another psychologist's trick and looked sceptical. Naturally he saw that. "No, I really do need your help. You just saw a boy - uh a girl?" That woke up my attentiveness. I nodded and said, "That's a boy? I would never have guessed." He looked at my legs, which were clad in a shimmering nice pantyhose. Actually too cold for the weather, but they looked good. "Well, you don't exactly look much like a boy. Why you dress like this at these temperatures we'll talk about some other time. Bernd has had a lot of problems." "Is he like I am?" "Oh, no. But he ought to tell you himself, if that's OK with you." "Sure." I looked forward to being able to talk to another boy about things that I couldn't discuss with anyone else. "Bernd is really a difficult case, and I'm not asking for your help without reason. He is mistrustful and will scarcely open up with me at all. I hope that you can talk with him. At least you have in common the fact that you both look like girls." I nodded. After all I'd gone to a lot of pains to look like this. "Actually Bernd doesn't want to look like a girl. What you saw earlier is his attempt to look like a boy." Well, that really hadn't worked, I thought to myself. It's true that he was wearing jeans and a pullover, but he still looked like a girl. And if he wanted to look like a boy, why did he have small breasts? Maybe my take was influenced by the development of my own breasts, but you couldn't miss that his were bigger than mine. Significantly larger, I thought somewhat enviously. And his face really came across in a feminine way. I'd have a closer look next time, but at first glance that had been a girl's face. If he wanted to be a boy, then he needed to see about a different hair style. Long hair doesn't exactly make a person appear more masculine. Now I was really eager to learn his story. "Bernd is temporarily living in a boarding house. Obviously that is not a final solution. Until a foster family is found, he will have to live in a 'home,' and with that begins our problem." "Are his parents dead?" "No, their parental rights have been suspended." He paused. "Spend the afternoon with him. Then I would like to see the two of you again tomorrow." "I have to babysit. Today too, but I got out of it because of this appointment today." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. Then I'll pick him up at your house this evening. But I can't do it before eight, is that OK?" "Not a problem, I think. But first as a precaution I'd better call Mom." "I've already spoken with her. I just didn't know that it would get so late." I was astonished and he looked at me. "For right now, Bernd isn't to be left alone. It is for that reason I called your mother. It was her opinion that you are mature enough to look out for him. I entrust him to you. That's a rather serious responsibility, are you up to it?" Not really, but I nodded anyway. He wrote something on a slip of paper and gave it to me. "That's the number of my cell phone. If something happens, then call me immediately. Actually I'm not allowed to leave Bernd alone. But it makes no sense, if he's always just under observation. That way he'll clam up entirely." "Don't I need to know what I'm supposed to do?" "No. Just speak with him. He needs someone whom he can trust." "Does he know that I'm not a girl?" "Yes. Only that way do I have any hope that he will open up a little." He stood up and accompanied me to the waiting room. I wasn't enthused that now another person knew about me. In the waiting room I looked at Bernd a little more closely. With no bad conscience either, because he had really stared at me earlier. Now I understood why. He was wearing jeans which was normal for boys. Plus a pullover, which in spite of its loose fit couldn't completely conceal two breasts. He noticed my glance on his breasts and it was visibly disagreeable to him. He tried to hide them by changing the way he was standing. He wasn't wearing any make-up, but his thinly drawn eyebrows set his face off in a very feminine manner. That made me think of my own eyebrows. They had grown back in somewhat, but they weren't as heavy at they had been earlier. I couldn't let that happen because that just wouldn't be possible if I was to appear as Andrea. How feminine did my face really appear? My classmates hadn't said anything -- or had they? Several remarks could have been taken in more than one way, now that I thought of it. He wore his hair in a low-sitting ponytail, which wasn't unusual for boys. But his had bangs and no boy has those. And in spite of the ponytail you could see that the hair had been waved. Even the color - a lustrous auburn, which really looked attractive - turned it clearly into a girl's hair. It was very similar to my wig, but prettier. I was envious, no doubt about that. Above all, because that hair was no wig. If you were looking for it, you could discover in his face certain masculine lines. But it wasn't easy. With a little make-up he would be very pretty. Bernd looked at me the same way I was checking him out. After several uncomfortable moments the psychologist said, "Bernd, this is Andy. I think the two of you have a lot to tell each other. Bernd, I'm trusting you that you'll just go to Andy's and nowhere else." Bernd nodded. "Good, then you both can go." ## On the bus we sat across from each other and continued doing what we had stopped doing at the psychologist: Staring at each other without saying a word. I didn't want to talk about myself where other people could hear and he probably felt the same way. The longer I looked at him, the more I had to ask myself how feminine I actually did look. OK, I did have short hair, but my eyebrows were pretty thin, too. In the mirror I had looked OK as Andreas, I thought. But I hadn't observed myself in a really critical way. I'd have to improve on that at the next opportunity. Bernd was trying not to stare so openly, but he didn't succeed. I saw how he kept looking at my legs as if he were seeing nice pantyhose for the first time. Or a short skirt. Then his glance wandered again and again to my breasts. Completely sunk in thought I'd almost missed my bus stop. Bernd looked at me in surprise when I hurried him to the exit. "Sorry. I was thinking." He nodded. It wasn't long before we were in my room. For the first time he said something. He looked at my breasts and asked, "Are they real?" I had to smile. "Partly. My own are rather small." "Oh, you have breasts, too? Can I see them?" I hesitated a moment. At first I was going to decline, but then I thought if someone were to have no problems with this, it would be he. I took off my weskit and blouse and then the bra so I could put it away along with the silicon-breasts that lay inside. My small breasts were visible. "Oh, those are pretty small." Almost defiantly I responded, "Yes, but they grow every day. It's gradually getting difficult to conceal them." He nodded. "Yes, I've been there, done that. Recently I've been bandaging them, but for long periods of time that's not very comfortable." "How big are yours?" "About... well, since you showed me yours, I really ought to, too." He took off his pullover and the undershirt. He had genuine breasts. I mean, real breasts like a girl as far as size was concerned. Smaller than my breast forms, but at least an A-cup. "Your breasts are very pretty." Somehow the situation was unreal. Two boys sat there with naked upper bodies and conversed about their breasts. He shrugged his shoulders. "I would prefer not to have any. Are you taking hormones? Well, that's a stupid question, without hormores, you wouldn't have any breasts." "No. Not a stupid question at all. I do take hormones, but my breasts grew in without them." "Really? How did that happen?" "Gynecomastia it's called. Many boys get it. But I'm taking hormones to prevent puberty. That allows them to grow more than they would naturally." I was getting cool. I took my super soft sweater and pulled it on without any undergarments. While I was doing that Bernd looked into my closet. "You have mostly girl clothing. Do you have to wear it?" I looked at him in surprise. "No, of course not." "Do you want to be a girl?" I sighed. "Difficult question. My mom is always wanting to know that; that's why I go to the psychologist." He ran his hand across the dresses in my closet. "But you have almost all girl stuff. If you're not sure, shouldn't you have just as many boy things?" I sighed again. "Yes. But it just worked out like this. A short time ago I didn't even have a single pair of pants, but an awful lot of little-girl clothing." "Oh, I've always hated that." "You had things like that, too?" "Yes, it was a punishment if I hadn't behaved myself." "In my case it wasn't punishment. Well, maybe in the very beginning it was. But that was only a short while; I've almost forgotten it already." "And then you kept wearing them?" he asked in disbelief. "Yes. I babysit with a little boy and he likes those things a lot." "You wear something like that for a little boy?" he asked in even greater disbelief. I shrugged my shoulders. "It's a long story. I didn't want to do it, but things just worked out that way." "You didn't want to dress like a little girl or like a girl at all?" "I never wanted to wear girl things. But then my pants got ruined and I put on my girlfriend's jeans." Had it really been just such a short time ago? "From then on the way things developed I finally had nothing other than girl clothing." "You'll have to tell me about that." "After I wore Biene's jeans once-" "Who is Biene?" "My girlfriend Sabine. She can't stand it if you call her Biene, but..." I shrugged my shoulders. Then I told my story. ## "I can't believe that you kept going on with it at all," Bernd said when I was finished - leaving out the most recent events. I shrugged my shoulders. "My mom says that, too. It's fun for me to be a girl. Maybe that's the reason. But I also like to be a boy. Recently I've felt better as a girl. Except in that crazy folk costume." "Folk costume?" "Yes, somehow I always end up in girl clothing, even if I don't want to. But now tell me your story." He hesitated. Then he said, "Well, that's only fair. And you know anyway that I am a boy. No reason I shouldn't tell you. Earlier I was rather wild. My parents and I didn't get along well at all. A number of things took place about which I am absolutely not proud. Finally I quit school. And with that everything began." I looked at him paying close attention. It wasn't easy for him to talk about it, you could tell that very plainly. "I have an aunt, who was once a teacher. It was my parents' opinion that she was my last chance. It would all depend upon her judgement whether I could go back to school again. I had understood for a long time that I needed my school diploma. I wanted to take my school finals, then later study at the university. Suddenly that seemed impossible. "But no one believed that I regreted my pranks. The school would only accept me in a business curriculum, and we simply couldn't afford a private school. My parents told me I should be happy that we had Aunt Sophie, because without her I had no chance. So I chose the one option left open to me. "Actually it should have occurred to me as odd that my luggage was to be sent along later. At least I could have carried one suitcase easily enough even if I'm no Adonis. "Aunt Sophie looks like a typical teacher from a hundred years ago. Always in a long skirt and her hair worn in a knot. And she behaved that way, too. She hadn't gone along with the fact that we live in the 21st century. She was stern, but certainly not unfriendly. "At first I was enthusiastic about the large house, a big old villa in a gigantic park. I seemed to be in one of those old dramatic films, where there was a lady's-maid and a gardner. The lady's-maid is quite nice and didn't look at all bad, if she hadn't had to wear such an old uniform, which seemed to have originated a couple of centuries ago. Her name was Marie. "The luggage I was awaiting hadn't arrived by late evening. How could it have, since it had never been sent. Aunt Sophie told me, she had laid out something for the night in my room. "When I walked into the room the first time to go to bed, I really got a surprise. It was plainly a room for a girl. The bed was a covered over four-poster, and this was covered with an immense quantity of frills. On it was a large doll dressed like a princess. Curtains and everything else that no boy wanted to have in his room. And there was a make-up table with a mirror attached. "But the worst was the nightgown, which lay on the bed. From its style, also about a hundred years old with lots of frills. I couldn't believe it, there had to be some mistake. I took the nightgown and went to Aunt Sophie. "'There must have been some mistake,' I spoke to her and held out the nightgown. 'And the room is unreasonable!' "'Young man, your tone is completely out of place! And it is no oversight, I have nothing else. Only women live in this house. I don't want to argue on your first night, so I'm going to ignore your outbreak by way of exception. But the next time you will be punished, is that clear?' "I was completely taken aback by the severe tone of voice and just said, 'Yes, Aunt Sophie.' "'Good, then go to your room. And don't sleep without your nightgown. This is a moral household.' "I went up to the room again. I didn't want any argument, so I put on the nightgown. I felt completely run over. Quickly I lay down on the bed so that I wouldn't have to look at myself in the various mirrors. I, a very normal boy, in such a nightgown! If it had at least been somewhat modest, but it had to be one with lots of frills. "On the next morning I was next aware of my nightgown when I urgently had to pee. Now, I had survived the night in it, but that was enough. I wanted to get my clothes, but they were elsewhere. Instead of that there lay a morningcoat matching my nightgown. Unbelievably feminine in a somewhat antiquated style. "I hesitated. But what possibilities lay open to me? Nakedness was out, that would be guaranteed to produce friction. So I was left with the nightgown or the nightgown with the morningcoat. It didn't really matter because there was little optical difference between the two. But the nightgown by itself was a little cool for an early summer morning. And Aunt Sophie would expect me to wear the morningcoat because there hadn't been anything else left for me. Hesitantly I walked downstairs in the hope that no one other than Aunt Sophie would be there. "But naturally I met Marie right away. She looked fresh as a daisy. She didn't bother about my costume. 'You've come at just the right time, breakfast is ready,' she said merrily. She actually helped me feel a little better. "Aunt Sophie came to breakfast. When I saw her, I knew that I had best not say anything about my unsuitable clothing right away. She didn't say anything about it either; it almost seemed like everything was completely normal. But I didn't feel that way. I felt like an idiot. "After breakfast I had to go with Aunt Sophie into her workroom. There she delivered me a lengthy lecture. That is, at first she didn't say anything and paged through a notebook which contained a lot of papers. I could identify the logo of my former school. That didn't seem so good; she probably had a list of my infractions in her hands. "When she began to talk, her lecture was fairly long. I'll just give you a sketch of what it contained, you can imagine the rest: "'Bernd, you have commited a lot of offenses in a short length of time. I understand that a young fellow needs to let loose once in a while, but this goes beyond anything reasonable. I can understand the school's decision; I would have thrown you out much earlier.' "And so it went on and on endlessly. After a long time she asked, 'Do you really want to finish school and get a diploma?' "'Yes, no doubt about that.' "'Then I comprehend your attitude even less. There is only one solution: Your attitude must be completely transformed. And by that I don't mean that you give up doing a few pranks in a half-hearted way. No. that has to be managed from the ground up. Do you agree with me?' "I found it humiliating, but I really had to agree with her. With my head hanging low I said, 'Yes, Aunt Sophie.' "'Good. That gives reason to have a little hope. But I'm not going to let myself be driven crazy because of you. If you want to go to a school, then you have to earn it. And that won't be simple. I will require a lot from you, and you won't like it at all. But one thing must be clear to you: If you don't play along, then I'll put you on the next train homeward bound. No second chance. Either you behave yourself perfectly or you can go right now. Is that clear?' "'Yes.' "'I hope, you're not just saying that, because I mean it in all ernestness. I intend to use a method that is called . Does that tell you anything?' "I shook my head. "'You'll become familiar with it. Right after this conversation you are to go to your room. Marie will help you get dressed. Then come to me again, so I can see if everything has been done right.' "She went on for some time, then she sent me to my room. At the end she had said, 'I give you a probationary period of three days. If you don't act to my satisfaction in this time, then I'll immediately send you home again." "I probably would have been better off going home." Bernd paused. Again he looked at my legs. That seemed strange and so I asked him, "Why do you keep looking at my legs?" "I'm just trying to tell the way things happened. But it really doesn't matter, since you see the result before you even as we speak. I have never yet worn a short skirt nor pantyhose." "What? You look like a girl-" I stopped as his face took on a dark cast. I thought for a moment and then I continued. "Pardon me, if you don't like it, but have you recently looked into a mirror? You look like a girl, whether or not you like it. And with your breasts you are likely to have a problem getting people to believe that you are not a girl." I looked at him and saw that it really didn't please him to hear the truth spoken. But I had always found that denying the facts never was a good idea. When he didn't speak, I continued. "How can it be that you look like this, even have breasts, and have never worn a skirt?" "You didn't listen to me. I said, I had never had on such a short skirt. For almost a whole year I've not worn trousers." "And no pantyhose?" "Only stockings with garter straps. I never did really get used to them; I always found them uncomfortable. Putting them on is troublesome, and the straps pinch just as often as not." "Good, then I understand your staring. Why don't you just try it out. I'll give you a pair of pantyhose and a short skirt, I've got more than enough of them." He looked at me with a strange expression. After a long pause he said, "I actually never want to wear a skirt again. NEVER AGAIN!" He was stirred up. I tried saying nothing so I wouldn't provoke him. After some time he continued, "But now I see you. I would never have able to imagine that a boy existed for whom it was fun to wear a skirt. But you radiate a lack of worry. I can tell that you not only accept it but find it good. And how you snuggle into your sweater!" "But that's great, too. I love soft things, and my sweater is the softest thing that I have ever felt. That's what I don't like so much about boy clothing: It's not very soft." "I can't suggest that girl clothing is better. I had nothing soft, everything was starched and stiff." "Then it's time that you got familiar with something positive. I gladly let you wear my sweater, and I don't let just anyone do that, believe me! It's really special and was very expensive." "And you'd let me wear it?" "Of course. Among friends you do things like that." He didn't say anything, but I saw a tear run down his cheek. I let him calm down. He seemed really to have had a rough time. A few minutes later I went on, "I'll pick out a neat outfit for you. You can think about whether or not you want to wear it. I'll just lay it out. You just do what you feel like." Without waiting for an answer, I went through my clothes closet. I was looking for an outfit similar to what I was now wearing: suitable for a sexy college student. He wasn't wearing a bra so I left that out but selected some especially pretty panties. A new pair of pantyhose, although I still had some that were as good as new. But I wanted him to have that special feeling that brand new pantyhose give. A skirt similar to what I was wearing: a typical college skirt with pleats. And then I ruefully pulled off my sweater and put on the things I'd been wearing before. Just as I was finished with all that I heard Mom coming home. I made a gesture toward the small pile of clothing and went downstairs to greet Mom.