FetLife
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My Life free porn video
I figured it was about time you knew the real me. Its always hard to
confess who you really are, and why you want to be who you are working
to be. My life has seemingly been about fighting who I was versus who
others thought I should be. I wasn't a typical man; I wasn't a woman.
Very early on, I thought that perhaps I had been born into a different
body, but I hated this notion. Why was I "wrong" because of some social
norm? Was I "gay" or "bisexual"? Who had the right to tell me what was
right to do and who I should be based upon how my body presented itself.
It made no sense. My sexual experiences have been enough to convince me
that I should strike out on my own on this journey of life, and while I
respect those that are "transitioning" I would tell you that I want none
of the idea that I need to become someone else. My story should explain
just what I think about my body, my sexuality, and my journey.
For the first time, let me tell you about who I was when I was born. My
parents were normal everyday middle class Americans. They didn't molest
me; they didn't abuse me. I wasn't picked on at school, hell I wasn't
even noticed. I will say that I always found myself intellectually
superior, and perhaps I should take a moment to explain this. I am not
saying that I always thought I was better than others. What I always
seemed to find was that I simply got frustrated why people didn't
understand what was going on. Eventually that frustration led me to want
to be alone. I got bored at school. I read my sister's college text
books.
Two things occurred when I was in middle and high school to change my
life. Here I must pause and say that I have no value judgment on these
events, and I do not want my reader to have one either. There was no
malice in what occurred and no matter how much you might search for
some, many years have passed and I blame none of the parties involved.
While I didn't like people, making money was essentially for several
other hobbies I had picked up through the years to occupy my time. At
the age of 14, the only opportunities I had were mowing lawns (I had
neither the physical tools nor the disposition for such work) or baby
sitting. I chose the later. The couple that I baby sat for were a 30
something couple with two young children, ages three and four. The kids
were well behaved and most of the time they were in bed. On the night
that changed my life, they stayed out extremely late, and when they came
him, she was barely keeping him upright. She seemed drunk as well, but
he was walking dead. She looked at me and told me she would be down in a
few minutes to take me home.
I had always thought they were a strange couple, although until that
moment I had never given it much more thought than that. I would examine
people much more later in my life, but at that time, it merely came down
to their appearance. He was very tall and lanky, she much bigger. Now, I
was old enough to assess one's body in a sexual manner, and all that I
thought about before that night was the fact that my father had once
jokingly called her twin peaks. Neither he nor I had any clue.
She had said a few minutes, but that quickly turned into half an hour,
and I thought I should probably go upstairs both to make sure everything
was all right as well as to make her aware that I really needed to get
home. When I got to the top of the stairs, I discovered the reason she
hadn't come back down.
Their bedroom door was wide open, and inside they were engaged in an
activity that is firmly etched into my brain. Some might say that what I
saw was disgusting, but I still think it is one of the most beautiful
things I have ever seen, and the single most important imagine in why I
am the way I am today. She was seated on a padded chair, much like a
weight bench, that leaned back. Her ass was on the vey edge, and she sat
completely naked. Her drunken husband was also naked, on his knees
between her spread legs, and she was guiding his head with her hand with
her other hand cupping her own breast and pinching her nipple.
Her breasts were enormous, and while she wasn't a small woman, there was
no way her boobs were that big just because she was a bigger woman. Her
pudgy hand disappeared into her breast tissue, and the way she was
making him lick her pussy with force with her hand was something I still
can't get over. I watched as she pushed him against her harder and
harder, the frustration clearly taking over the sexual moment, something
I would experience later in life. Eventually she pushed him off and
helped him into bed. Then she turned to me naked.
"You ready to go home hun?"
She walked to the bathroom door and reached in and grabbed a robe, and
then walking towards me, her massive tits swaying, she threw the robe on
and patted me on the back as she passed me and walked down the stairs. I
still remember the way her breasts lifted as she raised her arms to put
the robe on. That night she took me home in her see through robe, and
the entire way home she had her hand on my thigh. I had mixed feelings
about what was going on, but was so excited I no clue what to do.
I babysat the next week and thought for sure that I would have sex for
the first time in my life. When I got there, her husband told me he was
meeting her at the restaurant and that they might be late. We went
through the whole regular conversation and then he left. In no time the
kids were in bed, and I was exploring their house in a new way.
I went straight for their bedroom, and it was completely rearranged. The
bench/chair that she sat on was not there, and there were boxes against
the wall with the word "Brenda's clothes." Other rooms also seemingly
had things packed. In their bedroom, I went through their closet and
drawers. There was nothing of hers anywhere, then I put two and two
together. She was clearly moving out.
I watched television for a while, realizing that I might never see her
again, but eventually went back upstairs and found a few boxes in their
bedroom that were not taped up, and as fate would have it, one box had
her underwear in it. If that had not been the case, I am not sure my
life would have turned out as it has. The sad truth of that has plagued
me for years. I found one of her bras, some panties, a lingerie outfit
with garders. I wanted to take more, but I thought she might notice. I
still went through it all, she would never know I had messed with
anything, because I doubted that she had packed anything. At the bottom
of the box I found something whose allure was more than the threat that
they might know I took it. There, below the hose and bras, below the
assorted panties and lingerie were numerous dildos and vibrators. Later
in life I would appreciate her collection much more, and wonder how in
the world she would not have missed such a wonderful item I had taken. I
added a nice black dildo to my collection of undergarments. You could
feel and see the veins, it had a nice head on it, and I took it with
nothing in mind other than something inside me drew me to it.
I hide the items in my backpack and fell asleep on the couch. He came
home alone, took me home, and I never saw them again; however, that
evening when he dropped me off, I sprinted upstairs and examined my
collection. I was drawn to her bra, which I mockingly put my arms into
and looked down at the empty cups against my shirt. I paused, and then
couldn't get all my clothes off fast enough. I quickly got my arms
through the straps and did my best to hook the bra, and after a few
moments I got it hooked but it still was extremely loose. Eventually I
had to take it off and tie the bra on me, rotate it around my body and
life the band up to get my arms through the straps.
I remember looking down at those lacy cups and feeling at home. The cups
were so large that the underwire was in my arm pit, clearly not fitting
well, but the lace against my nipples and the thought of massive tits
hanging off my chest made me furiously masterbate. From there on out, I
always masterbated wearing her bra or panties. The memory of her breasts
still sends blood flowing into my cock.
My second monumental memory will take less time to tell but had an
equally important impact on my life. Some will see this moment as the
moment that should be the center of therapy. Others will say I should
glorify any abuse I experienced, any moment that I was taken advantage
of as a child, but I completely disagree.
When I got to be seventeen, I had yet to have any sexual moment other
than seeing Brenda that night, but what did happen were my parents began
to have more friends and more of those friends spent more and more time
at our house. They would usually drink and pay cards, sometimes people
would spend the night, other times they wouldn't. One night they decided
to smoke pot.
I only know this because I was later told that was the case, in an
attempt to explain both the events that would take place and the reason
no one was around to notice. Let me, however, take a moment and explain
a few things about me. First, I have never been very masculine. I am
small in stature, skinny, with little to no muscle mass. Secondly, I
have never been what you would consider attractive. But, for all the
negatives about me, the one thing I had going for me was my penis. I
would learn later and through the years, that I was extremely large, and
I came more and harder than most men I would ever experience. That's
important because that night I went to bed and in the middle of the
night I got up and went to the bathroom. Nothing was different, but I
rarely wore clothes to bed and in my half sleep I didn't really think
about it. It was really late, I didn't hear any noise, and everything
was dark. When I opened the door, there was a man I knew as Brent, a
neighbor down the street. He was married and had two children, a few
years younger than my parents, and had no indication that he was
anything but a straight suburban man who golfed on the weekends and
wasted his life away with the mundane.
When I saw him it took a moment for me to realized that I was standing
in front of him naked. He looked me up and down, finished peeing, and
simply said, "now that's a cock."
It was very uncomfortable, and he brushed by me as he left the room. I
closed the door and sat there for a few minutes, peed and then cracked
the door. Everything was clear. I ran across the hallway and got back in
bed. I covered myself up and for some reason I was waiting for him to
enter my room. It was like something from the encounter told me that he
was going to come into my room, but after some time, it didn't happen,
and I laughed at my paranoia. The issue was that part of me, a part I
didn't know existed, wanted him to come into my room. I remembered the
way he looked in that quick moment, and that look was something that
excited me. In any event, my time spent afraid in my bed had me jacked
up on adrenaline, so I got up, put some clothes on this time, and went
down stairs to get something to drink.
When I got the base of the stairs, I saw two people sleeping on the
couch, a guy on the floor curled up in a blanket, and another woman
sitting in the recliner watching television. She seemed not to even
notice I was there. I went into the kitchen and got a glass of water and
stood there drinking it looking out the window, trying to be quiet and
hide in the darkness out of view of the living room when someone reached
around me and grabbed my glass and placed it on the counter.
Instinctively I turned to see who it was, and before me stood the man I
ran into in the bathroom.
He didn't give me a chance to flee or say anything. This late thirty
something man knelt in front of me, my ass pressed against the sink in
total fear, and he pulled my boxers down around my ankles. Before I can
say anything, my soft cock was in his mouth. I wanted to say no, I
wanted to stop it, but I had never felt anything as good as my dick in
his mouth before. It was warm and the wetness squeezed around my dick. I
just can't explain how amazing it was. I closed my eyes and just stood
there, enjoying it, my cock getting harder.
I was imagining Brenda sucking my dick, those big tits swaying, when
someone kissed me. I didn't react to her lips, but I did open my eyes.
The woman from the chair was there, petting his head with my cock in his
mouth, and once she had retracted from our kiss smiled at me. She pulled
my hand to cup her near non-existent breast, and once my touch found her
she kissed me again. Ignoring her husband (I would find out), she pulled
me by the hand, causing my hard cock to snap out of his mouth, and then
slap him in the face when it retracted. She pulled me over to the island
in the kitchen, pushed me against it, and then back on it, and walked to
the table. All of this happened so fast, and I had to put the pieces
together later, but she got a chair from the table, sat him in it
between my legs, placed my legs on his thighs, and then she walked to
the other side of the island.
When he put my cock back in his mouth, she pulled her shirt off, her
tiny tits basically just a small bump with a large nipple on it, and
leaned over and began rotating her nipples in my mouth. The whole time
she was pushing his head down on my cock until I just couldn't hold it
anymore. I think I came fifteen gallons. He reacted as if it were the
case, and once I was done, he got off me without any word and she pulled
her chest from my mouth and they met half way around the island and I
watched as they kissed. They were obviously sharing my cum, as some fell
from their kiss onto her chest where he licked it off her, and then she
came to me and licked up a pool of cum that had gathered at the base of
my cock. With no warning or words, she came around and kissed me on the
forehead and I was left in the kitchen naked wondering what had just
happened.
I have told a few people about this and they always call bullshit on it,
but I swear to god it happened. I later learned, when my parents died,
that those parties they were having were sex parties, and I just
happened to bring a large cock to one at closing time when one couple
had not had enough. (why not molest the young kid???)
These two experiences affected me too much for a few reasons, and it has
taken me many years to make sense of it all. I saw in those two acts
that sexuality was an exploration, and the body I wanted was up to me.
Life was about enjoying all things, and sexuality was just one aspect of
it. I loved a woman's body, but there was something so intriguing about
how much he wanted to suck my cock. In addition, there was no
discounting how amazing getting that first blowjob felt.
A couple things happened after that. First was that I started to dress
up as Brenda and jack off imagining a man sucking my dick. Second, that
led me to begin to think as a woman while I was masterbating, which led
me to experiment with the dildo. Finally, I reached out for first hand
experience, which let me to the most embarrassing and most shameful
experience of my life.
It involved catching the bus across town so no one would know where I
was. I rode the green line across town and got off at a strip mall with
little more than a pawn shop and Waffle House in the middle of the
parking lot. Two blocks down was my destination. There sat an adult book
store beside a strip club, and inside was a scandalous owner that didn't
care who came in as long as he made money and people came back. Before
the day was over, he would prove himself to be the most despicable man I
have ever met.
I walked around the store for a little bit with the excitement that is
completely understandable for a high school male. Everything was knew,
and I remember looking at the porn movies find both the male and female
porn extremely exciting. Then two things happened. Near the back of the
store, I found a display of fake breasts. They had what I would learn
were breast forms, silicone filled breasts, and forms that took the
shape of a breast but did not attempt to keep the feeling and motion in
tact.
I got lost in them. I felt them, and as with my muse Brenda, I was
attracted to the largest pair. They looked like halved watermelons with
a nipple added to the center, and it was when I took them down from the
hook, attached together through a plastic contained with a bra when a
door opened directly behind me and a man walked out. He looked at me and
smiled and embarrassed, I ducked into the dressing room he came out of.
It only took me a few minutes to find out that it was no changing room,
but as soon as I was in and the door was locked, I had my shirt off and
was figuring out how to attach the breasts to myself. At first I tried
to use them in the bra provided, but then figured out that you had to
put them in the pockets in the cups, that it wasn't a bra per se but a
holder for the massive silicone fake breasts.
As soon as I got it on I felt them and gave out a sigh. It was what I
wanted to feel, what I needed. I put my shirt back on and looked at how
they pushed my shirt out, how they stretched the fabric.
The weight and the feeling of them was exactly what I wanted to feel on
my chest. I felt a sexual energy surge through my body, and then it
happened. There was a knock and then a cock came through the opening in
the wall. I looked at it and then at the door. I remember wondering if I
could run, and then there was a strange feeling of curiosity mixed with
the realization that no one would ever know.
I was more scared than I had ever been. I look back and laugh at that
first moment. I remember I actually licked the guys head like it was an
ice cream cone, but as funny as it was, when my tongue touched his head,
I knew I wanted it. I stayed in that room for close to an hour and a
half jacking off and sucking the cocks that came through that door. The
entire time I was in a world of my creation. I was Brenda, a suburban
prostitute that was servicing the surrounding house husbands. I knew
what kind of pleasure I was giving them. I knew how strange it was, a
woman with a dick, but in my world, I was the idea. I was being the
person I would love to be with.
I won't take the time to go through the sordid details of my day in that
booth, but I found two things. First, there was nothing I didn't like
about being that woman and sucking cock. Both were so excited I didn't
want to stop; however, I did learn that the entire affair, the place and
the situation, was sordid in nature, and that taught me a valuable
lesson: its not the act that makes it repugnant, usually it's the
situation. When I left the booth I was proven correct.
I took the breasts to the front of the store and put them on the
counter, and I can still hear the words and feel their pain. The man
behind the counter looked at me and laughed and then said, "you keep
coming back and sitting in that room, and you can have these things for
free." I felt dirty, gross, but I also got angry, and that anger welled
up inside me.
I do not know if you have ever been in that situation where you want to
say something but you only think of the perfect thing to say after you
have left the situation. Well at that moment I actually grew a set a
testicles that I never knew I had had, and it seems, have never had
since. The inner bitch came out.
I told him I needed the lube behind the counter, I walked over and
grabbed a dildo, grabbed two movies (I wasn't even looking at what I was
grabbing), and once he rug it up and had it in the bag, I grabbed the
bag and took out my ID and slammed it on the counter. That was the
proudest moment of my life. I told him that I would let him pay for my
items unless he wanted me to call the police and he could answer to them
why a minor was in an adult store sucking dick in the back. The look on
that bastard's face was great, and his silence was all I needed to know
I had him. I just grabbed the bag and walked out the door, my heart
racing.
When I made it around the corner out of view of the store window, I ran.
I hide behind a discount shoe store and waited for the bus, sure that
the police would be searching me out. They didn't come, and I made it
home. I have never again visited an adult store because of that moment,
and unlike many of my friends in the lifestyle, I have never again
engaged in that behavior. My sexual life since then has been relatively
boring, I think because of how I felt when he looked at me and said
those words.
So that explains why I am the way I am today. My ideal person is a woman
with a penis, and through the years I have made that dream a reality. My
parents died in a car accident and left me money. My grandparents died
and left me money. I had an uncle die and with no family, I inherited
his money and land as well. At 24 I was wealthy, had a large piece of
land in eastern Kentucky, no debt, and with my ability to live cheap off
the interest of my inheritance, I was set. I took time to try and
naturally change my body, but that only went so far. I tried Bovine
Ovary therapy, used the pumps, used the creams, etc. etc., but nothing
gave me what I wanted.
At 26 I got laser to remove all my body hair, got 750cc breast implants,
grew my hair out, got cheek, chin, and hip implants, and lost 20 pounds
on an already small frame. I grew my hair out. I got collagen
injections. I wasn't a beautiful woman, but I was more attractive as a
woman than I was a man. After a while of learning how to act, I pass in
most situations. I am sure that after closer contact people know, but I
keep to myself most of the time.
I write this not to get you off (that is what I seek to do through my
fiction). I merely want to tell you all that what we choose to be, in
whatever form and combination, is valid because we choose to be. Our
time here, and how we enjoy our lives, are our own affair, and we should
not let anyone select our experiences for us.
I however have not been able to completely free myself from the
boundaries that have been established. After that day at the book store,
I have only had four partners, one of which I have been monogamous with
for five years. I live my inner slut through my fiction and I sincerely
hope you all enjoy it....
Lianne
- 24.03.2022
- 11
- 0
