Supergirl and Powergirl Snob s Pleasure
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A New Girl In The 70s free porn video
A new girl in the 70s - by Debbie Pinkheart
This is a gentle tale that I hope you'll enjoy. It takes place in England
in the 1970s and concerns a young teen discovering himself. Although it
contains themes of blackmail and revenge it is fairly sweet and innocent.
______________________________________________________________
"In we go," chuckled Helen as she and Jayne linked their arms with mine
and propelled me out of the safe darkness of the cool winter evening, and
into the bright lights of the church hall foyer. I blinked as my eyes
adjusted and took in the familiar scene of the Saturday night teenage
disco.
I'd been here dozens of times and knew many of the kids that were
scurrying back and forth, dropping coats off at the cloak room and buying
soft drinks from the makeshift "bar" in the corner. But the main event
was taking place in the hall where an exciting pulsing light show was
piercing the darkness, and the beating glam rock music made the wooden
floor vibrate. No one paid any special attention to the three prettily
dressed girls walking through the door, nor noticed that there was
something unusual about the middle girl.
I'd never believed in a deity, but pleaded to any that might be listening
that the night would go well and that my secret would remain just that.
______________________________________________________________
I'll spare you the details , but a few weeks previous I'd managed to
seriously upset one of the girls at school with a mixture of boyish
bravado and very inappropriate behaviour. Helen had burst into tears and
the boys in the class had roared with laughter. I hadn't meant it to go
that far and was only clowning around but the poisonous looks I was
getting from her friends declared that I'd overstepped the mark.
Moving forward a few days and I knew that I should have smelled a rat
when I got the chance of an illicit liaison behind the school bike sheds
with a girl called Jayne. She was pretty, popular and well out of my
league, but in my infatuated mind, I stood a chance. Ha, the foolishness
of youth.
Jayne did turn up, and did give me the "come on", but a small posse of
fifth-form girls also appeared. They towered above me and I was quickly
subdued. To their credit they weren't violent, but they were forceful.
They didn't hold back with their imagination, the props they'd brought
with them, or the clicking of instamatic cameras that captured my
humiliation.
For three whole days I walked on egg shells expecting my nightmare to go
public at any moment, but there was no pointing and laughing, nobody
sniggering at me when they went past, nothing. When something finally
broke it was an anti-climax. One of the first formers came up to me in
the corridor and simply handed me an envelope with my name on it.
I scurried off to somewhere quiet and ripped the envelope open. There
was the expected photo of me posing prettily in a pink checked school
dress with all of the "other girls", but to my surprise there was a ray
of hope. An enclosed letter promised that provided I did everything I was
told, the remaining photographs wouldn't be posted on the school notice-
board. Yes, dear reader, at the tender age of thirteen, I'd discovered
that the female of the sex were devious and clever. They also had a good
grasp on both the mechanics of blackmail, and the sweetness of revenge.
Their plan was simply that at the end of the month they were going to
take me out in public dressed as a girl. If I refused to go, or if anyone
discovered I was anything other than a normal teenage girl, then the
school notice-board would become my tomb-stone. It was an apt description
as once the photographs of me prancing around like a "woofter" were
public, my life would not be worth living. My friends would ostracise me,
the school "hard men" would probably kick the crap out of me, and the
chances of having any chances of finding a girlfriend would be exactly
zero.
They knew of course that I had no chance of pulling this off, or
convincing anyone that I was a girl, without help. So Jayne and Helen
"helpfully" offered me "girl lessons", where I'd be taught everything I
needed to know. It was an optional life-line with strings attached. I
had to ask nicely for lessons and do everything I was told. I was to be
a happy and enthusiastic learner and to show appreciation for their kind
help.
It was a stupid idea, just an excuse for them to humiliate me, and it
made me feel sick. But I knew that the alternative was worse, and so I
found myself at Jayne's house each evening and at the weekends learning
the gentle art of how to be a girl.
Each lesson started with me being made to tell them how excited I was to
be learning to be girl, and to ask nicely for their help. They'd then
bring out a small selection of their clothes for me to fawn over and beg
eagerly to be allowed to try on. They'd then spend a while teaching me
which tops went with which skirts and how and when particular things
might be worn. I'd then be dressed in a outfit for the rest of the
lesson while they taught me how to behave like a girl. It was intense and
very interactive with them asking me which things I preferred, how I felt
in particular outfits, and which was the prettiest. They made me practice
over and over and ask for help and advice when I wasn't quite sure.
Over the weeks I was put in underwear that I'd only ever seen in my
mother's catalogues, skirts and tops in outlandishly feminine colours and
designs, and soft flowing dresses. I'd cat walked across the room in
spindly little sandals with a heel, and clunked awkwardly in girls pink
garish platform shoes. I'd been taught how to be graceful and feminine
and drilled in dozens of little mannerisms that would make my debut more
realistic - a real crash course on how to be a girl.
I hated it. I felt foolish wearing girls clothes, embarrassed having to
act like a girl but most of all I hated the fact that I had to pretend to
like all of this stuff. The amount of stuff they were teaching me made my
mind whirl. Did I really need to know all this crap for god's sake?
But after a few lessons it dawned on me that apart from a little good
natured teasing when I got something wrong, the girls weren't actually
going out of their way to humiliate me. Nor were they being nasty. In a
strange way it was as if they really were treating me as a new girl in
need of help, rather than a boy they wanted to destroy. I still felt
embarrassed prancing around in dresses, and disliked what they were doing
to me, but we started to relax more and have a little fun together.
One evening they decided to introduce me to dancing. Helen brought out a
cassette tape of some of the "Top of the Pops" hits and the girls began
the task of teaching me to dance. Well actually, I'm not a bad dancer for
a guy, but take it from me, girl dancing is much different. It's gentler,
smoother and dammit, a lot more girly. To my horror they had me dancing
to The Osmonds, David Essex and The Bay City Rollers. Some of the music
has a beat, but it's not really bloke music, it's more for the girls to
get excited over. Here I was in a flared girly dress, hair band holding
back my long flowing locks, and a set of pink and white love beads around
my throat. I was learning to shuffle, sway and groove to the music - girl
style.
I started to realise that much of this stuff was sinking in whether I
liked it or not. I was developing an eye for a pretty dress and starting
to know what accessories would look nice with it. I was instinctively
more feminine when I was in a dress and caught myself using girlish
mannerisms without thinking about it and realised to my horror that now
when we were together, it really was like three girls chatting and
giggling together. I was happy that it increased my chances of getting
out of this mess alive, but I was terrified that I'd do something
blatantly girly at school or something.
With just a week before show time, they hit me with a bombshell. They
were going to teach me about boys. Well how stupid huh? I already know
all there is to know about boys. Except I don't, well, not as girls
thinks about them anyway. They already had me dressing as a girl, acting
like a girl but that wasn't enough. Now they were going to teach me to
think like a girl. Great!
They spent hours talking between themselves and to me about boys,
explaining what they look for, and what they look at! To my surprise it
isn't all about slim waists and big muscles; nice hair, sexy eyes, cute
bottoms and a dozen other things are also in the running. They talked
about personality and how to distinguish between nice guys and creeps. I
didn't particularly like the angle of the conversation but I'll tell you,
I got some fantastic insider information that will be of enormous help
picking up chicks when all of this is over.
Helen produced some pop magazines and they had me discuss each star in
turn and discuss their best features and which one I liked the best. I
told them that if I was a girl, my favourite would be "Donny Osmond".
She wrote his name on my arm with a felt pen, and surrounded it with a
heart like a girly tattoo, which made us all laugh.
Throughout the week the training and polishing of my performance
continued, as did all the talk about boys. At some point I realised that
in the heat of all the discussion I'd dropped the "If I was a girl..."
prefix from my vocabulary and I was now just discussing who had the
cutest bum and the sweetest smile, without appreciating just how feminine
I was now sounding. It frightened me.
Just before leaving on the Wednesday night we each made a list of all the
boys in our class. We agreed to write down ratings for them all for the
following evening so we could talk about them.
The following day, during a rather boring maths lesson, I found myself
trying to decide if Peter Taylor had nicer hair than Bobby Watson and
daydreaming about it would be like to kiss one of them.
Look, I know what you're thinking and the answer is no, I'm not gay. Nor
do I want to be a girl, it's all just a daft game, okay? Well, a game
and also a way of stopping those photos from being circulated. Just
because I'm getting good at all this girl stuff doesn't mean I like it.
That evening we produced our lists and discussion started. We pretty much
agreed about the class creeps and laughed as we crossed them off our
lists, but our top 3 cuties were all different. We playfully argued for
our boys. Peter would be pleased to know that I tried my very best to
defend him - or maybe he wouldn't, I don't know. But in any event it
became clear that we all have different tastes in guys, which we all
thought was nice because then we wouldn't ever be fighting over the same
one!
Anyway, eventually the big day arrived and I turned up at Helen's house
in a nervous and tense state. The girls were convinced that I was ready
to face the world in a dress, but I wasn't sure. There were a hundred and
one things that could go wrong, or things I might forget, any one of
which could trip me up and "out" me. The girls assured me that I'd be
okay and gently reminded me that I didn't have a choice.
The girls had already chosen their outfits for the evening and took me up
into Helen's bedroom to choose mine. I thought it was really sweet of
her to let me look though her wardrobe and choose whatever I liked.
I went for a white bra and panties, both with lace trim and a little bow
at the front. Jayne stuffed a few tissues in my bra to give me a small
mound suitable for the thirteen-year-old. I chose a white polyester
blouse that had long floaty bishop sleeves that gathered and buttoned at
the wrist, with an open pear-drop collar and a small row of flowers
embroidered across the front. It was feminine and pretty without being
too dramatic.
We had a discussion about which skirt, but I finally gave my heart to a
knee-length lemon skirt that was flared, with three tiers and a shiny
plastic belt that would hug my waist in. I thought that together with the
blouse it gave an almost "country-girl" look and would be perfect to
dance in, and be nice and cool at the disco. I choose simple white knee
socks (which make Helen chuckle as she said they were nicknamed "virgin
socks"), and a pair of simple black patent Mary Jane shoes.
Helen helped me do my hair, which simply consisted of parting it in the
middle, girl-style, fluffing it up a bit, and then brushing one side
behind my ear. She held it in place by clipping a rather pretty yellow
daisy hair-slide, which went lovely with my skirt.
My final touches were a large chunky sparkly bangle that I borrowed and
clipped around my wrist, and a set of pretty multi-coloured love beads
that went around my throat to give my open necked blouse a little colour.
The girls hadn't quite finished though. Jayne insisted that I wear just a
little makeup. She didn't apply much, just light pink lipstick, mascara
to make my eyelashes cute when I fluttered them at boys (apparently), and
a little blusher (not that I needed any). Helen also sprayed me with
some lovely lavender perfume to make me smell nice. That'd take a bit of
explaining to my mum when I
finally got home! Her final touch was a small heart-shaped "I love
Donny" badge that she'd bought especially for me from the market. She
pinned it on my blouse and said it was for good luck.
So, dressed prettily, bursting with newly acquired feminine knowledge,
but still under threat, I walked between the other girls to the cloakroom
to deposit my lilac coat for a few pennies and begin the challenge of a
lifetime.
______________________________________________________________
Sweet's "Teenage Rampage" was blaring out of the speakers as we made our
way across the hall away from the disco unit so we could hear ourselves
talk. The format was the same as usual with brightly coloured lights
strobing the darkness, rope lights snaking their way around the speakers
and those weird lava lamp things that projected coloured morphing blobs
onto the ceiling like something from a sci-fi film. The format was the
same too, with small islands of girls inhabiting the middle of the wooden
floor, dancing and chatting; and groups of boys lurking in darkness
around the outer edges standing or sitting on plastic stacking chairs.
I knew the mind-set of the boys intimately. I'd been there. They'd be
eyeing the girls intensely and discussing them with bravado with the
other boys, but most would be secretly too shy to approach a girl and
risk the humiliation of rejection. But this time that wasn't my modus
operandi. For the first time in my life I was an Island dweller rather
than a lurker and was expected to dance in the sunshine for all to see.
I trembled.
Jayne and Helen lead the way and joined a small group of other girls with
a nod of recognition and a short exchange. I nodded too and to my
enormous relief got a simple nod of approval back. For now I was
accepted.
I followed the girls' lead and danced how they did, paused when they did
and tried desperately to remember all my lessons. I felt awkward and out
of place, but nobody seemed to notice. I relaxed a little and let myself
yield to the music, moving with the beat and feeling my skirt flutter
around my knees and the constant annoying clanking of the bangle. I was
just a girl dancing, just like any other girl.
I saw glances from the shadows and expected to be outed at any moment,
but it seemed that I was getting away with it. To be honest it felt
exciting and a little naughty to be fooling people. One or two boys
plucked up the courage and came up to talk to a girl. Sure enough they
were either cast aside with a giggle of derision or had their bravery
rewarded by being invited to dance or being taken to one side for a chat
and possibly more. It became obvious that the girls held the power here
and they knew it. I saw Jayne and Helen make eye contact with a boy or
two and wondered ruefully if it would happen to me. Part of me was
fearful that it would happen and that I'd have to respond like a girl,
and another embarrassed-to-admit-it part was secretly hoping that it
might happen and that I might be able to exert the same power that the
girls expressed.
After a while the heat got to us and we retired to the bar for a mid-
session lemonade and packet of crisps. I was then bustled into the girl's
cloakroom to "freshen up".
After doing the business, sitting down of course, I was reminded to check
my lipstick as the alien world of girl-talk opened up around me. The
chatter moved from boys to fashion, to boys and then music, before
returning to boys. Finally there was a short pause in conversation.
"So, have you seen any cute boys yet Debbie?" asked Helen, making me the
reluctant centre of attention.
"Oh, not yet," I blustered, like a rabbit in the headlights.
"Oh? I thought you were eyeing up that lad in brown jacket," she said.
"Yes," added Jayne, "I'm sure he noticed you dancing."
I blushed. "I might have."
"Come on, own up," giggled Helen, "you think he's cute, don't you?"
A number of girls were looking at me and I needed to make a feminine
response. "Yeah... he is nice," I admitted.
Everyone laughed and the tension was gone. I was saved.
As we walked back towards the disco hall Jayne pulled me to one side and
whispered in my ear, "I want to see you kissing that boy before the
night's out... or else!"
My heart sank. To be honest I'd overcome many of my fears and was
starting to actually enjoy the play acting and fooling the audience, but
Jayne's threat hit me like a thunderbolt and scared me silly. Dancing
around was one thing, but actually kissing another boy was something else
altogether and filled me with dread. I didn't know who the guy was but
felt sure that if he found out I was a guy, he'd kill me. But then
again, if I didn't fulfil Jayne's order, I'd be dead on Monday at school.
It wasn't so much "between a rock and a hard place", as "dead tonight or
dead on Monday".
We resumed dancing and I casually scanned the darkness for signs of the
boy, catching my breath when I saw him. He had a crisp white shirt on
with the collar folded back over the top of his brown jacket. His tight
trousers flared out at the bottom to an inch or so above his black
platform shoes. I nearly tripped over my own feet when I realised that
I'd been looking at just how tight those trousers were and were looking
for bulges at the front. The girls would be proud of me. I felt my face
burn with embarrassment.
I glanced at the clock. It was 9:15pm and the disco closed at 10pm. I had
45 minutes to get a kiss from this guy and realised that however much I
hated the idea, I'd better get a move on. He was still standing with his
mates adjacent to us, but if he left early I'd be in the shit. The girls
and I had become very friendly over the last few weeks, but I knew that
I'd hurt Helen and didn't want to find out if she'd really burn me if I
failed to complete my task.
Jayne must have read my mind and between records whispered in my ear,
"flirt with him just like we taught you. Flirt with him like a girl."
The guy had his back to me as T-Rex, Elton John and others came and went.
I glanced at the clock and it read 9:35. My eyes oscillated slowly
between his bum and his long sandy hair brushing the back of his collar
as he nodded over some joke with his mates.
Slade came on with a foot stomper and I danced my little arse off,
desperate for attention from the boys. I stared intensely at that cute
little bum willing him to turn around. He didn't, but his friend noticed
me and smiled. Dammit. His friend was quite nice looking too, but
wasn't the boy I wanted. Well... you know what I mean!
The clock read 9:42 and I felt my heart race when his friend finally
nudged him and he looked in my direction. It was now or never. I licked
my lips as Helen had taught me, and then looked downwards as if I were
shy.
He smiled back. I got goose bumps up my back. I was dressed as a chick
and had made eye contact with another boy in a disco, what the hell was I
doing?
I continued dancing and he turned back to his friends to chat. "Look at
me, look at me, I'm the girl of your dreams," I wanted to scream at him.
Another record played and another three minutes off the clock. From the
corner of my eye I could see Jayne and Helen watching me, expressions a
mixture of surprise, encouragement and unspoken threat.
Eventually my dream boy looked at me again and I went for it. I fluttered
my mascara covered lashes and gave him my prettiest smile. He said
something to his mate and walked towards me. I felt a weird mix of
relief, elation and abject terror. All kinds of possibilities running
through my mind, and not all of them good.
"Hi," he said, "what's your name?"
"Debbie," I said in my very best girlie voice.
"Want to Dance, Debbie?"
I bit my lip and nodded.
He moved in close and started to dance with me, surprisingly smooth and
sensuous for a guy. The DJ had turned down the booming tempo for the
latter part of the disco. I smiled at him and studied his face in the
subdued lights. His wavy hair cascaded down each side of his face,
framing an almost baby looking complexion. He looked handsome, in fact a
real girl might consider him cute.
But he was taller than me and quite muscular, which frightened me. I
prayed again to my newly recruited deity that the boy would see nothing
but a pretty girl in front of him.
The DJ started with the smoochy records and I noticed one or two of the
girls were pairing up with their boys for their last chance of an
evening's cuddle. He moved towards me and just like the other girls, I
found myself wrapped in a boys arms. He was gentle and swayed in time
with the music and without choice I went with him.
"Mmmm... ", he said, "you smell nice."
I looked up and smiled. He smelled of leather from his jacket, and
something else too. Yes, that was it, he was wearing aftershave, probably
nicked from his dad, which made him smell strong and masculine. It was a
stark contrast with my own flowery and feminine perfume. He felt
masculine too, looking down on me with his strong arms draped around my
shoulders, guiding me in time with the music. I slipped my arms around
his waist beneath his jacket and felt his slim muscular body. Then
without really thinking about who I was and where I was, I put my head on
his chest and cuddled up to him, just as the other girls were doing with
their guys.
My emotions were all over the place with the battered remains of my
boyish pride reaching up to the surface, begging me to run away from this
foolishness. And yet I felt so delicate and so feminine in my little
flimsy little outfit, a scared and vulnerable little girl. He stroked
my hair reassuringly, as if he somehow knew my turmoil. I closed my eyes
and cuddled with my boyfriend to the fading notes of Donny Osmond's Puppy
Love, and then in the moment of quiet, like a scared little kitten I
asked, "What's your name?"
He put a finger under my chin, gently lifted my head up, and looked at me
with gorgeous blue eyes. "David," he said softly.
And then he did it. He lowered his head and put his soft, sweet lips
against mine and kissed me. Pleasure ran through me and there was
nothing I could do about it. I felt so feminine, excited and alive. Did
all girls feel this wonderful when they got their very first kiss?
David opened his lips slightly and slipped his warm tongue against my
lips, gently probing and tickling as if asking politely for permission.
It was delightful and I wanted to scream his name and tell the world that
this was my boyfriend, but instead I just parted my lips submissively and
let him in.
He was soft and gentle, running his tongue first across my teeth and then
teasing and playing with my tongue, caressing me and making me squeal
like a little girl with pleasure. He held my head and pulled me close,
stoking and my hair with his fingers as our tongues danced together. I
had a mouthful of boy and he tasted so sweet. I wanted more and I sucked
gently to encourage him, coaxing his tender tongue deeper and deeper.
And then it happened.
A wave of pleasure shot through me and I gave a little involuntary
shudder. I felt my knickers become very wet indeed. Thankfully David
didn't seem to notice, nor feel my face burning with embarrassment. He
just continued to kiss me tenderly as if there was only the two of us in
the world.
I snuggled up to him and wanted the enchantment to last forever, but the
music began to fade out and the house lights started to come up.
Reluctantly he withdrew and we stood smiling at each other for what
seemed an age. Now the lights were up he looked even cuter than before
and his lovely smile made me feel weak and giddy.
He planted a little kiss on my forehead and said, "You're sweet!"
"Can I see you again?" I asked.
"Next week?" He said.
My heart leapt and I grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Yes, I'd like that."
David went back to re-join his friends and no doubt regale them with
tails of how he'd scored with a hot chick. The girls re-joined me from
across the room where they'd been observing everything, and Jayne
reached into her bag and handed me a familiar looking envelope. "We don't
need these any more. You're a girl now!"
Helen smiled at me. "Well, did you enjoy yourself?" She asked.
I blushed. "Yes, it was lovely, really lovely. "
"And Helen..." I whispered, " Thank you!"
"Oh, we're not finished with you yet!"
"You're not?"
"Nope. We've got to get you some pretty clothes of your own. You've got
to look extra pretty now you've got a boyfriend."
The end.
________________________________________________________________________
Thank you for your time and I hope you enjoyed that. I would appreciate
any feedback. I know parts of it are a little rushed, but I was trying to
overcome a tendency I have to get bogged down with detail and never
actually finish!
Best Wishes: Debbie Pinkheart
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