Nandita To Nandini
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Fairy Boy And Tomboy free porn video
Fairy Boy and Tomboy by Peggy Sue
I was always a fairy boy, even before I started dressing in girl's
clothes. I always cried at sad movies and stopped to admire flowers. I
had long pretty hair from the time I was seven. The bullies taught me
early that I'd better learn to defend myself, so I was a tough street-
fighter when attacked. None of the bullies ever picked on me twice.
I lived alone with my mother. I must have had a father once but no one
ever talked about him.
By the time I was 12, I had long silky brown hair and I wore clear
polish on my pretty fingernails. I often wore a little eye makeup, but
that was just because I wanted to wear makeup, not because it made me
prettier in any way I could understand.
My mother was aware of how I felt and the direction I was going. She
promised many times that she would help me someday to dress in girl-
clothes. I trusted my mother so I didn't act impatient.
One day my mother told me: "Ken, the makeup man at my beauty parlor,
needs an assistant. He says he'll teach you how to make yourself up and
how to make up others. There's no pay except the lessons, but he'll feed
you snacks and you can take home any makeup you use on yourself."
I jumped at the offer.
Every day after school I'd go help Ken. He was a nice man who loved to
show a doubtful girl how pretty she really was. I'd run errands and help
him with his customers, and when he was free I'd learn how to make
myself up.
I had my red-lip look and my nude-lip look. I had my plain-eye look and
my fancy-eye look. Plain-eye and nude-lip could be worn by a boy if you
didn't look too close. Fancy-eye and red-lip made me look like a girl.
Looking like a boy was alright because I was a handsome boy and girls
clustered around me. Looking like a girl was special.
I also learned some things about manicures and hair. I learned to set my
own hair and style it various girly ways. I helped give manicures and
came home often with my nails painted red.
One day my mother yelled: "Inspection, on the double. Show me your
girliest hair, face and fingernails. Time oh thirty from now." I jumped
to show her. She walked around me and nodded. "Very good, soldier! It's
time for the next step of our program."
Mom & I went to a department store to buy me some underwear. I left the
store wearing girl's panties and a lightly padded bra under my boy-
clothes. Then we went to the Salvation Army to buy me a pile of girl-
clothes. I was still small, so there were lots of pretty clothes in my
size that other girls had outgrown. For a very small sum we bought piles
of tops and shorts, skirts and dresses. I could dress as a girl for a
week without needing a laundry.
We decided to stay with sneakers and white sox for now.
My mother had a friend with a daughter about my age. She was a tomboy
and we'd never got along especially well, except that we'd taught each
other street-fighting tricks, for when you had to face the bullies.
Greta came over one day when I was dressed in girl-clothes. She was
dressed in jeans and a tee. Her unruly blond hair was pulled back in a
pony tail. She wore no makeup and her fingernails were a mess.
She walked all around me. "Wow, you're pretty. I think I like you better
as a girl than I liked you as a boy. What's your name?"
"Peggy Sue."
"Wow, that's a good name. Can we be friends now?"
Greta started coming over often. The next time she came over she wore a
skirt. She'd cleaned her hair and fingernails and she'd done something
pretty to her eyes. We ran around through the woods and fields like a
couple of tomboys, giggling and screaming. When we got home she tried on
one of my red lipsticks. "You know," she said, "I could be a pretty girl
without half trying."
I brought her in to meet Ken. He offered to make her up for free. She
came out looking gorgeous. "My mother is going to love this."
Her mother loved it. So did I. "Are you my girlfriend now?"
"I'm a weird sort of girlfriend."
"Well, I'm a weird sort of boyfriend."
"I guess we were just made for each other."
And from then on we were inseparable. Sometimes we were two boys,
sometimes two girls, sometimes one of each. Sometimes we played ball
like boys do. Sometimes we caught fish and frogs. Sometimes we played
with dolls and sewed like girls do. Sometimes we dug in the garden.
Sometimes we went to the movies and held hands like boys and girls do.
We both loved to dance.
My mother asked if we'd ever kissed. Greta said she was thinking of it.
Maybe some time we'd try it. We reassured my mother that we certainly
didn't want to kiss anyone else.
Going to school was a problem. Public schools couldn't relate to someone
who was a girl one day and a boy the next, especially if the one who was
beginning to have little breasts was the boy today! But we found a
Montessori school that would accommodate us. Both of us loved our
studies and we competed all the time for who knew most.
One day the bullies found us alone on the street. We were both boys that
day. That was a good thing because pants seemed better for fighting than
skirts. The boys called us 'fairy' and 'faggot' and other worse names. I
thought 'fairy' was merely accurate, and 'faggot' was stupid because I
had a great steady girlfriend. These guys weren't interested in semantic
niceties. They were just looking for something to hate. There were two
of them and two of us, so the odds were in our favor. Just like we had
practiced, Greta quick made herself into a little ball on the ground and
I pushed one bully over her. Then she sat on him. I punched the other
one hard in the solar plexus and he fell down gasping.
Greta said "Say 'Uncle' or I'll punch you in the face." She punched him
in the shoulder, hard. He winced but didn't say 'Uncle'. She punched him
in the other shoulder, harder. He looked like he was starting to cry.
She punched him in one bicep. He was crying. She said "C'mon, just say
'Uncle', then all you'll have is bruises. If I punch your face you'll
have a black eye and a broken nose and you'll still have to say 'Uncle'
to get me to stop." She punched his other bicep.
He yelled "Uncle, Uncle, lemme go!"
Greta relaxed but didn't let him go. She said: "You guys gonna leave us
alone?"
He yelled: "Yeah, yeah, anything."
I picked up the other one by his hair: "What about you, can I hear you
say 'Uncle' or do I need to punch your face?" He looked terrified. I
tugged his hair again and shook him: "So, what about it?"
He yelled "Uncle, dammit." I pushed him down. Greta got off the other
one. We walked away.
I said: "Too bad I wasn't wearing lipstick. It would have been harder on
them." That's when I got my first kiss. It was a good one.
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