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Kelly in Miniskirts By Gingerfred Man Chapter One - A Startling Start My life was OK, I guess. At least I thought so at the time. Mom and my stepfather were good to me. And, although I wasn't an alpha -boy, football-quarterback, prom-king kind of guy, I had friends and good grades. No great accomplishments to list as I celebrated my 18th birthday one month into my senior year in high school. I could probably get into the state university, finish in the middle of the class, get a job for 40 years or so, retire and die like most guys, I guessed. That all changed right after Mom and my stepfather (who insisted I call him Daddy) sang "Happy Birthday" and I blew out 18 candles. Mom and Daddy exchanged looks. Daddy nodded and Mom said, "Kelly, your stepfather and I have something important to discuss with you. It's in regard to an extracurricular activity that we're pretty sure you would like." OK, I thought. My school guidance counselor told me that I was a bit weak on extracurriculars for my college applications. So I was listening. "Mrs. Lovewell, your English teacher discussed your candidacy for the one extracurricular that would have the greatest and best influence on your life. She said she just needed two more pieces of information before letting you join and she asked us to get those data for her." Wow! Mysterious. I was intrigued. And not apprehensive. I should have been. What could it be? My English teacher would probably be doing some theater group on Shakespeare or something. That speculation dissolved rapidly when Daddy said, "Stand up and drop your pants, Kelly." I must have misheard him. He repeated it. Now I have always had great respect and even love for my stepfather, who raised me since age five when my father left. But there was no way I was... "You heard Daddy, Kelly," Mom said. "Do it now. This is really important to your future." My future? How? But I was a good, obedient kid, who saw the futility of resistance. So I dropped my pants. But not my boxers. They couldn't mean... "All the way, Champ." Daddy said. I almost cried from the shame of it all as I exposed my most private parts to my mother and stepfather. What were they thinking? "I see," Mom said. "I thought so." And she took my very limp penis into her hand!! My penis!! In my mother's hand!! Mom produced a ruler, held it up against my deflated prick and announced, "Two-and-a-half inches. Just like his father. No wonder I divorced him and married you, Mr. Eight Inches," Stepdaddy glowed with that praise. I wanted to hurl. What was happening? Mom spent at least three more minutes playing teasy games with my penis and testicles. I was dying of humiliation. "No response," she told Daddy. "Good so far." Good? Daddy stepped in and began to fondle my junk. He made eye contact with me as his rough, manly hands caressed my prick and balls. Oh! I erected ferociously! Mom slipped the ruler onto my stiff soldier and said, "Three-and-three- quarters inches when he's handled by a man." And that seemed to settle that. Whatever that was. Mom excused herself from the room. Leaving Daddy and me alone. With my pants down. And prick all stiff. Daddy looked as if he wanted to "finish things" for me and, looking back on it, I would have liked that very much. But Mom was back in under three minutes and announced two things, "You can pull your pants up, Honey. I just spoke to Mrs. Lovewell and she is delighted to welcome you as a member of 'The Miniskirt Club.' Your first meeting will be tomorrow at 3:15 in Room 346 of your school. You'll love it. We're going to bed, Kelly. Happy birthday again." Huh? Chapter Two - Miniskirts needed a club? Being a millennial, no sooner had Mom and Daddy gone to bed to do what they did most nights, I was on my smartphone looking up The Miniskirt Club. But there must have been something wrong with my phone. Or the Internet. Or the world. It said that The Miniskirt Club was a national organization with local chapters, almost all of which were in high schools. Members were 18-21 year-old boys who dressed as girls. And from the pictures, they were darned good at it. Pretty, well-made-up faces. Sexy stockings. Big heels. And skirts and dresses so short one could almost see stocking tops. Did Mom and Daddy expect me to put on makeup, roll stockings up my legs, balance in very high heels and pretend to be a girl? No way. There must be some mistake. And what was that business about my penis size? And whether I was more responsive to a man's handling of my genitals than a woman's? I knew I was small "down there." And I was properly ashamed of it. Though I was still waiting for a growth spurt that I doubted was on its way. It was genetics. Not my fault. And I didn't think anyone could read much into my liking Daddy's penile caresses better than Mom's. Incest is icky. Daddy wasn't biological family. So it was OK for me to enjoy myself. There must have been some mistake. I would just go to that after-school meeting the next day and straighten things out. So there I was. Outside room 346 at 3:15. Oh no. Was that Billy Johnson from my history class? I couldn't let him see me. But he did. "Hi, Kelly," Billy said. "Welcome. Mrs. Lovewell said you were joining us today. Come on in with me. You're going to love it here." Billy Johnson was a panties-and-stockings-wearing nancyboy? Oh. He must be so ashamed. Though he didn't appear to be. He seemed happy to be there. And welcoming to me. I followed him in. To a sanctuary of femininity. On first glance, one is almost overwhelmed by the large room that housed our high school's chapter of The Miniskirt Club. There were about a dozen young men, aged 18-21, in various stages of undress and transition to femininity. They were uniformly pretty and well on their way to beautiful. There was a lot of giggling and limp-wristedness in the room. And they were all wearing, or about to wear amazing seamed, fully- fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings in pink, white, brown, lilac, tan and, of course, black. Garter belts too. And, although as far as I could see, no one had titties, most were wearing bras. Some of the little pansies who had arrived early were already wearing micro-micro miniskirts that barely covered their stocking tops. And skyscraper stiletto heels that made their butts go back and their chests go forward. So there I was. In the midst of a dozen obviously gay, sick, twisted, at-least-half- crazy nancyboys. Which was disgusting, right? So why was my cock on red alert? Oh no! In that far corner. Wasn't that Eric who was in last year's graduating class. He was wearing full makeup and pink lingerie and was on his knees sucking another little femmed-up perv's cock! I creamed my pants. Adding another huge layer of personal humiliation to what was fast becoming the most mortifying day of my life. Why did I cum? What did it say about me? I wanted to ponder that, but suddenly, Mrs. Lovewell appeared. Let me just let you know that Mrs. Lovewell was a very well turned-out, 30-something babe. Who knew how to dress to thrill. And dressed that way all the time. Mrs. Lovewell wore the chapter uniform of big heels, stockings and ridiculously short skirt and she looked incendiary. Especially when she smiled at me and said, "Welcome, Kelly. I'm so glad to have you with us. And on the day after your 18th birthday. You won't waste any prime time at all. "It was fortunate too that you came in with Billy. He volunteered to be your sponsor, helping you get oriented to our activities. His girl name is Cindy and I think she has a crush on you already." A crush? On me? Billy was gay and he called himself Cindy when he was perving up with these other pervs? Where was the door? I wanted to leave, but the blood that belonged in my brain was all in my cock. Mrs. Lovewell continued. "While Billy is becoming Cindy, let me ease your mind about what happened to you at home last night. As part of a standard battery of questions, I asked your Mom and Dad about your penis size and how you felt about intimacy with men. If you're extra big down there, our panty resources are 'stretched.' So we would have to do some shopping before taking you in. Also, we find that smaller- pricked members of our club are more likely to abandon their dreams of studsmanship. As far as 'liking' men, we haven't had a member yet who backed away from a handsome, loving man. Your parents were being overachievers by what they did with you." I winced. That was them. Wait. Did she say that these little creampuffs all liked men? And they wanted me to be one of them? I blushed crimson. Did Mrs. Lovewell think I was gay?!?! Why would she think that? No way. I wanted to prove it by grabbing Mrs. Lovewell and kissing her. Then doing disgusting sex things with her. But it didn't seem like the right thing to do. And she hadn't offered any such thing. Time to go. Feet do your stuff. Not moving. Mrs. Lovewell went on. "Cindy should be ready in a few minutes. Then she'll show you how pretty she is, but even more importantly, how pretty you can be. I love that moment with our girls. Then we'll show you how to put on seamed, fully-fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings and a garter belt. I'm pretty sure by then you'll be eager to shoot your sissy cream. Cindy will help you with that I'm sure. Any questions?" My mouth was Sahara dry. My knees were shaking. But I had two questions. "Do I have to?" Mrs. Lovewell smiled. "Of course not, Honey. No one is forced to do anything at The Miniskirt Club. Except to go home when we close at midnight each night." My second question. "What do people do after they put on girlie stuff?" "Good question. Again, that's up to the members. Many stay here and socialize like Wendy and Darlene were doing over in that corner when you came in. But most girls have dates most days." Socialize? They called having your cock sucked while balancing in four-inch heels socializing? One follow-up question. "When you say 'dates,' do you mean with each other or with [gasp] men?" That nice smile again. Then, "With men, Honey. Men love our girls and our girls love men. When The Miniskirt Club allowed girls 14-21, many of the younger girls were eagerly giving themselves to being fucked by older men and I guess that was against the law or something. Though it seems silly to me. So now members have to be 18. And you just make that. Oh, good. Here's Cindy now." Oh! That was Billy Johnson?!?!? Morphed into Cindy? She was spectacular! Beautiful face. Amazing blonde wig. Pink, seamed, fully-fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings on legs as good as any I had seen. Pink, four-inch-stiletto pumps. Ruffled, pink garter belt. No dress. And [blush] no panties! Which meant that Cindy's fat cock was looking right at me! Saliva returned to my mouth. And I found myself following Cindy to a well-lit vanity table I was ashamed when Cindy rolled my boy undies down and saw the residue of my previous cum. But Cindy thought nothing of it. Cindy gave me a dazzling lesson in cosmetics. Oh! It was true. I looked like a girl! A very pretty, bordering on beautiful, girl. The mirror doesn't lie. And neither do the testicles. Because I wimpishly expelled a second creamload when I saw the new, beautiful me. Mrs. Lovewell, who had been hovering, gave me a round of applause as the last spurt of my cream oozed out. "That's the reaction every new member should have, Honey," Mrs. Lovewell said. Cindy was so pleased with her work that she gave me a big kiss! Right on the lips! With tongue. And, even though kissing another boy is probably gay, I gave as good as I got. It was amazing! And Cindy wasn't done. She took me into a nearby ladies room and shaved me from my neck to my toes, except for a thick little patch of pubes dead center. Then she taught me how to roll up and slide on a pair of black, seamed, fully-fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings, then hook them onto a pretty, pink garter belt. Oh, girls! The feel of stockings on freshly shaved legs!! Was she going to give me panties? To wear? Like a pantyboy wears? Not yet. She slid a pair of two-inch, spiked pumps on me and taught me how to walk in them. When I discerned all that, Cindy sat me in a loveseat, sat next to me and told me a) how pretty I was, b) how proud she was of me for learning so fast, and c) how happy she was that she and I would be girlying up and spending time together. All while fondling my cock and balls. Oh! When she began to kiss me and feed me her tongue, I responded tit for tat. Even though neither of us had tits nor tats. I caressed Cindy's nice, five-inch prick. Pulling the skin most teasingly over its deep-purple head as I fed her my tongue. Rubbing her "arrow-point" with my thumb. As she thrillingly played with my pink parts. It was heaven. A billion times better than anything in my life thus far. And maybe it wasn't even gay. I would have to consult the rule book in the very near future. Cindy spunked first. I joined her seconds later and issued a very unmanly squeal as the sperm strings danced in the air. Yes, it was heaven. And horribly gay. And unnatural. And something I resolved to be over and done with after that day's gay, unnatural session. Though we don't always keep our resolutions, do we? Chapter Three - Firm resolve There were only four girls and Mrs. Lovewell still at the club at 5:30 when I had to leave. Mrs. Lovewell insisted that my underpants were too cumstained to put back on, so she gave me a pair of pink, satin, bikini panties with little bows at the hips. They were ferociously gay, but they felt so good. And I didn't want The Miniskirt Club people to remember me making a ruckus when I left. For good. Since I wasn't coming back. Cindy gave me an exquisite kiss that almost made me cream again. I resolved to tell my analyst when I was 40 about my "Cindy day" when I was 18. And I was out the door, down the stairs and into Daddy's car. Daddy had graciously agreed to pick me up, since the school buses were long gone. He was uncharacteristically inquisitive. Wanted to know all about my afternoon and the club. But I was too racked with shame and hetero guilt to say anything but the occasional grunt. I pretty much gave Mom the same treatment when we ate dinner together. Mom and Daddy gave each other a lot of knowing looks. Hmmmph. They thought they knew everything. They probably thought I had spent the afternoon girlying up and kissing other pansies. Then shooting my sperm with them. OK. They were right about that. But what they were wrong about was tomorrow. Because I was DONE with The Miniskirt Club and DONE with femininity. At 8 p.m., the parents' usual go-into-their-room-and-fuck time, Daddy stopped by my room to talk to me. And share what was in a small bag he was carrying. "I know the first day of a new adventure is always tough, Champ, but if you give it a chance, I know you'll enjoy it. Here are some things you may want to enjoy tonight. See you in the morning." Huh? What was in that bag? By rights, I shouldn't even care. Since I wasn't gay. And I wasn't about to be. And I wasn't going back to The Miniskirt Club. But I was curious. There were five items. The biggest and heaviest was a huge bottle of Slickyboy Masturbation Cream, (a Spermbutt Industries product)! Already, that was over the line. Parents don't give their kids masturbation aids. Though technically, Daddy wasn't my parent. More in the bag, Oh! A tiny, barely there, yellow, babydoll nightie. So short that it didn't cover my prick and balls! And I know that because I tried it on. Just to see how pervy Daddy was being. Pretty pervy! No makeup. Short hair. But I still looked four-alarm-fire hot. Oh no! There was my erection again. Such as it was. I locked my bedroom door. And withdrew the other three items. Three recent issues of Panty Boy magazine. Which, to that point, I had never seen. They were disgusting! Beautiful boys. Femmed to the max. Doing atrocious, filthy sex things with each other. And MEN! I was especially offended by the issue that featured a lovely, nude- but-for-stockings, 18-year-old innocent named Angela, who had recently been spanked so hard that his bottom was beet red. And had been ass- fucked so fiercely that his bottomhole was expelling a heavy stream of sperm! The caption said, "Oh, Stepdaddy, I'm so sorry I disrespected you. Thank you for punishing me and then 'making up' with me so nicely." Somehow, as I read that caption and looked at that picture, I was on my back, my babydoll had risen to my nipples, my hand had been coated with Slickyboy Masturbation Cream, and I had stroked myself to a seismic cum. But that didn't mean that I was going back to The Miniskirt Club the next day. Chapter Four - On second thought At 3:15 the next day, I entered The Miniskirt Club clubhouse, stripped off my boy clothes except for a pair of panties that Mom had insisted I wear that day, and got to work on my makeup. Mrs. Lovewell greeted me warmly and gave me a hint or two about this and that. The results were pretty good, but not as good as when Cindy did my makeup the previous day. Where was Cindy anyway? "Cindy had a date today, Honey. She's sorry she missed you and she'll see you tomorrow. But her date was with one of our big donors and we need their help, you know." Cindy was out with some pervy rich guy? Probably kissing him and maybe even sucking his cock or doing some of those other disgusting things in those disgusting magazines. That now had sticky pages. Oh well. I did love looking at myself looking femmy hot. And stockings are always worth putting on. Just as I had put on my blond wig and was about to go get stockinged and gartered up, someone came up behind me and said, "Oh my! The girls were right. You are an angel." Who was that? Oh my. She was almost as pretty as I was. Though a couple of years older by my guess. "I'm Denise, Kelly. I'm very glad to meet you. Can I help you put on your stockings and get into your first miniskirt?" Denise. Mmmmm. She was a dish! And she was flat-out flirting with me. Maybe coming back to the club that day was a good idea after all. True to her word, Denise helped me into black seamed, fully-fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings; a garter belt; black, silk, bikini panties; and a black training bra. I was HOT! As was Denise. I was ready to put on my first miniskirt when I saw Denise remove hers. And her top. And her panties. I followed my leader. Who led me to a back room with a nice queen-sized bed. We got into that same bed. Lying on our backs. And talked about the Yankees' chances in the playoffs that year. No, silly. We kissed. Oh so nicely. Lipstick to lipstick. Then tongue to tongue. Yum. Denise teased the exposed part of my thighs above my stocking tops. Then she tickled my penis knob. Oh. Didn't want to cum yet. Sensing I could be a "bad girl" like that, Denise scooted to her knees and took my stiffie into her mouth. Her mouth! I was being fellated. Expertly. By an amazingly beautiful, ultra-feminine person. On my second day at The Miniskirt Club. That was the moment I decided to become a lifetime member. I didn't want to cum quickly. But I did. Quickly and gloriously. But wait. There was more. Denise sucked down my entire cumload. Then kept licking and sucking my small-but-feisty cockhead. Bringing me to a second stand. Then a second orgasm. Punctuated by Denise's inquiring finger rubbing my anus wrinkle. Oh, ladies! Superb is too mild a word. But when Denise had swallowed the last drippy drop, the piper was standing at the pay window. I would have to fellate Denise. Twice! I couldn't. Then I would be really gay. Forever, probably. But she was a girl, right? And sex with girls was right for me, right? Rationalization is the savior of mankind. I got on my knees, summoned my courage and my saliva, and got to work. Though it didn't turn out to be work. I loved kissing, licking and sucking Denise's beautiful 5.5-inch dick and delicious pink purse of pretty balls. And if Denise's moans, sobs, squeals and grunts meant anything, I did a pretty good job. It took me almost 45 minutes to draw two cums from her. It was a delicious three-quarters of an hour for me. And set aside many of my doubts about whether I could be a full member of The Miniskirt Club. Though there were many other bridges to bridge. Chapter Five - Three weeks later Wow! I really loved being a member of the world's greatest club ever. And my experiences had grown. Somewhat. I still hadn't been outside of the club walls dressed as a girl. Mrs. Lovewell was gently suggesting that I do that one Thursday afternoon. "Just wear our clothes home one night, Honey. You sleep in the nighties your Daddy got you, right. Show the parents who you really are now. And don't worry about that other matter yet." The other matter was doing "things" with men. Real men. Who didn't wear femmy stuff. That seemed eons in the future to me. I was having too much fun "socializing" with other club members seven days a week. And I was having a hot little sissy love affair with Cindy. Just three days ago we began exploring each others' anuses and [gasp] prostates with fingers as we sixty-nined to new plateaus of pleasure. I guessed it was all right to follow Mrs. Lovewell's advice. Though I was a bit wary about Daddy's reaction if he saw me as Kelly in miniskirts. He seemed awfully interested in me since I had girlied up. And it wasn't a healthy interest. Unless I misread it. Well, I wasn't letting something that unclear stop me from reaching my full pantyboy potential. I told Mrs. Lovewell that I would dress en femme to go home that Thursday night, and maybe all weekend if all went well. She seemed very pleased. I was a bit trembly when I kissed Cindy (and Denise and Mrs. Lovewell) goodbye at 5:30 that evening. And Daddy's wolf whistle when he saw me didn't help. "You look incredibly beautiful, Honey," Daddy said. I guessed I was "Honey" from then on. Not "Champ." He held the door for me when I got into the car. Was he being a gentleman, or did he just want to see my beautiful, black-stockinged legs? He didn't touch me or anything on the way home, but he was leering. I guessed I had to expect that from men from then on. Though I didn't have to do sex things with them. We pulled into our driveway and Daddy got out to open the door for me. I stepped out, stood and took a deep breath. Wondering about Mom's imminent reaction, when I heard, "Kelly? Is that you?" OH NO!!!!!! HORROR!!!! It was Tommy Tompkins. Our next-door, two-years-older-than-me neighbor! He was home from college for some "fall break" thing. Did I mention "Oh no" and "Horror?" And he had outed me. Do I tell him I lost a bet? Was rehearsing for a school play? Had just been released from involuntary transsexual sex slavery? "You look amazing, Kelly," he said. "Did you join The Miniskirt Club? I often wondered if you would do that. You're so beautiful and sexy." Daddy had slipped away. Leaving me to my fate. Whatever that would be. "Do you really think so? " I asked coquettishly, though I didn't know I had any coquette in me. "You better believe it, Kelly. You're a dream come true. I'm sorry. I just got home today and I'm only here for a week. Don't mean to be forward, but would you like to go to the movies with me tomorrow night? I could pick you up at 6:30. That is, if you're not seeing anyone. Please tell me you're not seeing anyone." "I'm not," I said, far too quickly. And then I added. "OK. See you tomorrow." I turned on my big heels and clacked into the house. Mom was over-the-moon-happy about my beauty and the fact that I had a Friday-night DATE! With a young man! That nice, hunky, handsome Tommy. All I could think of was, I have a date. With a real man. And a real man's disgusting sexual expectations. Which, if I fulfilled any of them, would make me indelibly gay. Then I began to fret about what to wear. The next day at The Miniskirt Club, the word was out about my date (thanks to Mom telling Mrs. Lovewell). So there was no cumming for me after 4 p.m. "Save it for your man, sweetie," Mrs. Lovewell said. An icepick chill stabbed me. Would I be cumming with Tommy? Would I be making Tommy cum? I certainly hoped so. The ladies, especially my lover Cindy, were all supportive and full of advice. Like, no fucking on the first date. Unless you really want to. And, don't submit to sex stuff in his car. Tell your Mom and Daddy that you're having a sleepover with a friend. No problem on that one. Mom and Daddy had already told me I could bring Tommy to my room and commit numerous acts of sodomistic defilement with him all night if I wanted. The ladies did my makeup to perfection. Nothing too slutty. And I got the long-blonde wig that Mrs. Lovewell said looked best on a pillow. They gave careful attention to my undergarments. Black signifies that a girl "wants it" they said. And even if you want it, it's a bad first-date signal. We did pink bra and garter belt. But we had to do the black seamed, fully-fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings. Men love those. I wore a pink sweater top and a black micro-miniskirt that showed stocking top every time I moved. And, of course, black, patent-leather, four-inch stiletto fuck-me pumps. I was every man's wet dream. As were all of my sisters at the club. And Mrs. Lovewell, of course. Who allowed me, for the first time, to suck her delicious cock to completion. A rare honor. And then I was off. And into the car with Daddy. Who looked as if he wanted to turn the car around and spirit me to a country without U.S. extradition. Then make sweaty love to me forever. Or maybe I was imagining that. We got home and Mom had a nice hurry-up-, hurry-out dinner for us. She added a few dating tips too, then gave me a purse that contained lipstick, pepper spray, house keys, Kleenex and a $20 bill for cab fare. Good stuff. At 6:30 sharp, the doorbell rang and it was my date. Looking exquisitely handsome and manly. Oh. Please don't let me cum in my panties already. When he saw me, Tommy's eyes bugged out like in one of those old cartoons. I was that steamy hot! And very proud of it. As a boy, I was a wimpy loser. As a pantyboy I was a world-class lust object. The poor bedazzled Tommy offered his hand and I accepted. I decided to be a benevolent despot that evening. Tommy led me to his car. A 2012 Prius. Good thing I wasn't dating him for his money. He helped me in. I made sure I gave him a much nicer stocking shot than I had given Daddy either time he had given me a ride. I heard him gasp. Later, I learned that I was the first girl he had ever dated who wore real stockings, garters and big heels. Men LOVE that stuff, ladies! Get with it! Pantyboys are taking the men! Anyway, Tommy drove us to a local, 12-screen movie theater, where he bought tickets for a really bad movie, as well as two small popcorns and a shared diet soda. The evening wasn't going to be about the movie. Or the popcorn. So Tommy made a pro's move in getting us into the last row of the bad movie. There were only five other people in the theater. All in front of us. We ate our popcorn and chatted during the previews. Tommy being a man, that meant he was the one mostly talking - about his life at college. It was interesting, I guess. But I wanted the lights to go out. And so they did. We put our popcorn bags down simultaneously. Tommy held my hand. I let him. Moments later, he let go of my hand and rubbed my left, stockinged knee with his right hand. I let him. He moved his hand up and rubbed the parts of my thighs not covered by my miniskirt. I not only let him. I opened my thighs and moaned softly. His hand went much more deeply into my thighs. Rough, rude, manly hand on nyloned inner thigh. On un-nyloned inner thigh! Then his hand moved toward mission control! And he and I were shocked to discover that I wasn't wearing any panties. My pretty little pink things were horribly exposed to a man's lust! And my little sissy peeny was stiff and drippy. I never actually figured out how I got to my date without panties. It must have been the girls at The Miniskirt Club playing a prank somehow. Or maybe, in all the excitement of my first real date, I remembered everything but panties. At first, I thought that Tommy would think me a cock-hungry tart and desert me. In reality, he thought I was a cock-hungry tart and wanted me even more badly. Of course, the kissing started then. As we know, girls, it's not really kissing until the cocks come out. And ours were soon out. Feeling Tommy's rough hands running unfettered under my skirt as we tongue-kissed! Rubbing the stockinged and bare parts of my thighs. Then skinning my pretty little knob and tickling my tee-tees as he sucked my tongue! Oh! He was also loving the manual caresses I was giving his cock as he stole my innocence. He had a nice one. Not huge. Maybe 6.5 inches. I wondered if he would be FUCKING me with it before the night was out. We were kissing ferociously as we stroked and rubbed. I gasped and spunked first. Tommy followed moments later. Ten minutes later, we were in the car. On our way to my bedroom. Where the really good stuff would happen. Tommy and I hustled past my gawking parents, up the stairs and into my room. I locked the door. We kissed and hugged fiercely. Swallowing each other's tongues in a haze of lust. My clothes were in the way! "I want to see you naked. Now," I gasped to my paramour. I watched Tommy shuck off his clothes as I stripped off my top and skirt. And then I saw it. My meddling, but actually helpful in this incidence, mother had laid a black babydoll nightie on my bed and there, on the nightstand, was a gallon of Spermbutt Anal Lubricant. The recipe for a really fun evening. I grabbed the nightie and my lipstick, gave Tommy a quick kiss and said, "Get in bed. I'm going to freshen up and be right with you." Tommy didn't like being told what to do so much. But it was worth it for the "pussy" he was sure to get. I sissied into my en suite bathroom, freshened my lipstick, sat to pee, then cleaned my penis with a soapy washcloth and shimmied into my black babydoll. I was sun-core hot! Shoes or no shoes was my last decision before I surrendered to my man. Men like the heels. Even in bed. I kept them on. Then I rejoined Tommy. Who was lying on his back. Delicious cock pointing north. Oh what a night I was about to have. To begin, I wanted to pay tribute to the object that would soon (if all went well) defile me. Rob me of my virginity. Brand me as a card- carrying, ultra-gay, little sex-faggot. I got onto the bed, then onto my knees next to Tommy's left hip. I touched his cock with my soft hand and watched in delight as it twitched and drooled pre-cum. I leaned over and licked the sweet pearl off his peelips. Then I smiled at him and licked my red lips. Slowly. He moaned with lust. Tommy's cock being the first such male version of my acquaintance, I took my time getting properly oriented. His foreskin was still hooding part of his glans. So I skinned it back. Tommy liked that. I gave the knob a good inspection, both with my hands and my tongue. Tommy really liked that. On to the testicles. Each was a hairy, musky little treasure. I loved the virile taste of each one as I took them into my mouth and tongue-bathed them mercilessly. At that time, lacking the vast experience I enjoy today, I was afraid that ball-bathing would make Tommy cum and I would be robbed of the pantyboy's big reward. So I stopped. Spit his balls out slowly, and fixed my lipstick as I let him cool down. After all, a girl has to look her best when she's ferally fellating her man, doesn't she? We resumed. That time I gave my full attention to the licking of his arrow point under the glans. The spot that seemed to be the most cum-inducing in the male anatomy. Tommy apparently agreed. Four minutes and 12 seconds into that erotic assault, the troops left their barracks. Millions of them. And were they ever tasty. Man cum tasted much better to me than sissy cum. Or was that just wish fulfillment? I swallowed all of his seven thick spurts, except for the last one. Which I kept in my mouth and offered to Tommy to share in a French kiss. He greedily accepted. Which was very heartening. Having forced myself to read the Panty Boy magazine that Daddy got me, I was well aware of the horrible perversions that the pantyboys expected from their men. If Tommy wasn't willing to suck my little sissy cock, swallow my girly cream and "eat" my ass, our relationship was going nowhere, Tommy seemed eager to prove himself worthy. We kissed and fondled for a long time. Tommy slid two rude fingers into my bumhole and I let him. In fact, I even wiggled a bit to help him find my prostate. That was bazinga time. Lucky Tommy had figured that out and managed to get his mouth over my cock as my prostate exploded. Good work, Tommy. We bathed in the afterglow for a while. Kissing and fondling. Pillow talk followed. I had been wondering how Tommy knew about The Miniskirt Club. You'll recall that he correctly guessed that I had joined. "Dennis Roberts was my best friend. He became Denise. The amazing Denise. I wanted to date her, but she thought that would be too weird. So I lost a best friend and a chance at some great sex. Not as good as it is and will be with you. But great." Denise? The 20-year-old who, next to Cindy was my favorite sex partner at The Miniskirt Club? Wow. Denise really missed out. "I think I'm hard enough to fuck you now, Baby," Tommy said. "I mean, if you want to." "I want to!" I blurted out. "Great. Just face my feet and straddle my shoulders. That's it. Now lower that beautiful bum hole right onto my mouth. That's it. Yum" And there we were. Tommy was eating my ass. As if it were his last, most delicious meal. No worries about Tommy being "reluctant." And no worries that Mom and Daddy would ever doubt that I had been fucked that wonderful night. I screamed. And sobbed. And whimpered. As my ass-cannibal devoured me. It was blissful. And then, after 32 terror-stricken minutes, it got better. Tommy scooted me up so I was on all fours, then slid four pillows under my stomach and eased me down. He got behind me, onto his knees, introduced his cock to my anus, and pushed. Apparently, if I'm ever actually axe-murdered in my bed, no one would respond. Because I'm pretty sure I sounded like someone who was getting the business end of a hatchet. It was hellacious pain! For almost 40 seconds. And then it wasn't. And then it was delightful. The best ever. Each stroke demonstrating my submissiveness (which I found very erotic) and rubbing my prostate the way it needs to be rubbed. I was being fucked! Like a little pantyboy fucked-person. Wow! It was the best ever. When Tommy shot his huge load into me, I felt I had crossed a big river. And I liked what was on the other side. Chapter Six - After-fuck Tommy's and my Friday Night of Golden Memories was followed by a Saturday night, and Sunday night. Magnificent. I recommend it highly. But on Monday morning, to save our testicles from an early death, I went to school and Tommy went home to ice down his balls. I went to The Miniskirt Club that afternoon of course and told all my sissy friends EVERYTHING! If you want to keep a secret, never tell a sissy. I went a little easy on the sex that afternoon because Tommy was coming to my house at 6:30 for another sleepover. It was more of the delicious same and again on Tuesday. But on Wednesday, Tommy said he had a family thing he had to attend and wouldn't be able to be with me until 10 p.m. I pouted a little, especially since he would have to be back at college on Sunday. But I knew what I would do with that unexpected free time. Mrs. Lovewell had been strongly hinting that, since I was no longer a virgin, I needed to start participating in the club's "Make the Donors Happy by Having Hot Sex with Them" program. Sounded good to me. So on Wednesday, I hurried up to the club, got girlied up and went downstairs to be picked up by Mr. Gotbux's limo. Mrs. Lovewell assured me that I would be delivered to my home, walking under my own power, by 9:30 p.m., so that I could have my date with Tommy. She was always as good as her word. Riding in the limo, I did feel a little bit like a "working girl." I mean, I was trading sex for the stuff The Miniskirt Club needed, right? But I was OK with that. Because the other girls told me that Mr. Gotbux was an excellent lover. So it was OK, right? Mr. Gotbux made no pretext that anything other than sex was happening with girls like me. The limo driver dropped me at a big mansion. I wiggled in in my four- inch heels and was met by a matronly woman, who harrumphed a bit, then led me to a first-floor bedroom. She knocked twice and said, "Mr. Gotbux, your afternoon pantyboy is here." I was the "afternoon pantyboy?" Did he have morning pantyboys and evening pantyboys? Probably. The door opened and, thank goodness, he didn't look like a weirdo. He looked awfully good, actually. Mid-thirties. Handsome. Hairy chest. Big cock. I knew all that since he was wearing a shortie bathrobe that was open in the front. His cock was flaccid, but it practically sprang up when he saw me. He smiled broadly and said, "Welcome, my dear. It appears that Mrs. Lovewell has outdone herself this time. You are exquisite." I blushed. And sneaked another look at that cock. Wow! "Thank you, sir," I replied. "You're very kind. And very generous to our club. I hope I can show my gratitude properly." Mr. Gotbux loved that response. He opened the door, let me in. Offered me champagne. I accepted. Then put it down as I undressed to my stockings, garters, heels, bra and panties. My little sissy thing was tenting my panties cutely. I picked up the champagne, drank it and moved toward Mr. Gotbux so he could kiss me, He accepted the invitation greedily. Good kisser. Better cock-stroker. And panty remover. And a darned good asseater. I staggered out of there at 9 p.m. Into the limo. Leaking cum from four monstrously good fucks. Showing me that the Tommys of the world are great, but a world of eager, randy men awaited me. I managed to get myself together for Tommy that night and gave him another time of his life. Though I slept through two of my classes the next day. Chapter Seven - After Tommy Tommy and I had three more honeymoon-quality nights and then he was off. With promises to do it all again at Thanksgiving. That Sunday at dinner, I approached Mom and Daddy with a new plan. "I don't want to dress as a boy any more. I'll go to school as a girl and do everything as a girl." Big declaration. Mom and Daddy looked at each other. "We thought you would want to do that. We admire your courage." Wow! Big hurdle cleared. Now I needed to tell them how I would do it. "I..." "Of course there will be conditions," Daddy said. Conditions? I guessed that Mom and Daddy had been thinking it all through. I listened. "You couldn't keep borrowing from The Miniskirt Club all the time, Honey," Mom said. "You would need all your own clothes and accessories. And that will be expensive." Oh no. They're bringing money into it. I didn't have money, But I could get it. Maybe Mr. Gotbux had friends who would "sponsor" me for "considerations," Should I bring that up? Not yet. "Your mother and I would be delighted to take you to Timmy's Girlish Secret and get you whatever you need. As often as you need it. But we want to make a small scheduling change." Scheduling? "Yes, Kelly," Mom said. "One afternoon and night a week, Sunday, I would like to be able to go where I want and do what I want - no questions asked. Daddy would stay home, of course. With you. No questions asked about what you two did together." I was stunned. Mom wanted to go out one night a week and get laid. By someone other than Daddy? And Daddy wanted to FUCK me? No surprise there, I guessed. But Mom was allowing it? A co-conspirator? That sounded GREAT to me! It wasn't incest, since Daddy wasn't my bio Daddy. Daddy was a hunk. And I had always loved Daddy. Was he really Mr. Eight Inches? I guessed I would soon find out. I had to ask two questions. First, recalling the issue of Panty Boy magazine that started my ascent to pantyboy-man love affairs, I asked, "If I disrespected you, Daddy, would you spank my bottom red, then 'make up' with me and my bottom?" A cold sweat was on Daddy's upper lip. He looked briefly at Mom, then at me. "Of course I would, Honey. Discipline is very important. As are expressions of love." I smiled, then asked, "Isn't today Sunday?" Please tell me what you think at [email protected]