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After having had a few experiences, I became slightly more comfortable with my sexuality. I decided to branch out a bit, and see what life had to offer. I wondered whether there were any bars or clubs that I could go to to meet people who were looking for someone like me, so I went online and discovered, that yes, there were quite a few such places. It is so wonderful having the internet at times like these; I have no idea how I would have learned about these things without being able to go online. I found a bar which appeared to cater to the LGBT community in general. That sounded relatively safe, but as I had never before visited such an establishment, I wan’t sure just what to expect. Would I meet anyone there who knew me? Would I stand out like a sore thumb? What was I supposed to do when I got there, anyway? As usual, I hesitated, panicked, and had second, third, and fourth thoughts. Nonetheless, I was resolved to go, and go I did. That Friday evening, as I approached the bar, I felt completely out of place. I was wearing street clothes, as I was nowhere near comfortable enough to go anywhere “dressed”. How would I find what I wanted if I couldn’t even dress the part? I had no clue. As I walked in, I expected everyone to look at me. No one did. This calmed me down a bit. I looked around, spotted an empty booth, sat down and wondered if I should approach the bar to order a drink, when someone came over and asked me what I would have. I ordered something simple, and the waiter disappeared. As I looked around, I saw men talking with one another, but detected no signs of sexual activity. Well, what was I expecting, sex on the floor? The waiter reappeared with my drink. I began to wonder if this was a good idea; I mean, what was supposed to happen? It seemed as though nothing would. I was becoming annoyed, and I decided to finish my drink and leave. This had been a waste of time, and I had put myself through all that anguish for nothing. Just as I emptied my glass, the waiter came over and placed another drink in front of me. I said, “I didn’t order this.” He replied, “It’s from that gentleman at the bar.” I looked in that direction, and someone smiled at me. I just smiled back, and thanked the waiter. Now what, I wondered. I didn’t have to wait long for my answer. The guy at the bar came over, smiled, said, “hi”, and asked if he could join me. I motioned for him to sit down. “You look uncomfortable. Is something wrong?” “Well, I’ve never been here before, and I don’t know anyone here.” “My name’s Tom.” “Hi Tom, I’m Tracy.” “That’s a pretty name. You looked so sad and lonely all by yourself I wanted to try to cheer you up.” “Why thank you Tom, that was very sweet of you.” “Not at all. What made you come tonight?” “Oh, I was just hoping to expand my social life a bit.” “Hmmm. And just what were you hoping to find?” Oh, great, now I’ve got to put my cards on the table. What am I supposed to say? “Well, I was hoping to meet up with someone who wants to meet someone like me.” “And what would that be?” Shit, this guy goes right to it. Now what? “I’m not sure how to…” “It’s okay, you don’t have to be too open about it. Could I just tell you what I’m looking for instead?” “Yes, of course.” “I’m sure you know what kind of a bar this is, right?” “Yeah…” “Well, it is frequented by all manner of people, looking to hook up with all types of people. As for me, I like sweet little girly-boys, who like to dress, and I was kinda hoping someone as petite and demure as you might be that. Am I wrong? If so, I apologize. I certainly wouldn’t want to offend or upset you.” Oh fuck, I thought, how did he know? I can’t say no, but if I say yes, I would be committed to doing something, probably right now, and while he certainly was nice enough, and cute, as well as masculine, I just wasn’t sure. “I suppose I have to be honest. Yes, that is what I am or like or want, but I am still having a hard time adjusting to my own desires.” Holy shit, did I actually tell him that? I did. God, now what? “Would you care to talk about this with me?” “I don’t know; maybe.” “Well what exactly is the problem?” “I like dressing, and I enjoy what I do when I am dressed, but I’m not sure I can say ‘yes, this is what I want to do, how I want to be’, from now on.” “Let me ask you this. Do you like feeling pretty?” “Yes.” I was feeling pretty embarrassed at this point. “Do you like it when someone says you’re pretty when you’re dressed?” “Yes.” I was feeling almost naked now. “Do you like it when you feel wanted, desired, lusted after?” I just nodded my head. “Does it make you feel sexy?” I nodded again. “How does it make you feel when you Beşevler escort Bayan are touched, caressed, and treated like a sweet girl?” “Where is this going? I mean, what do you want me to say?” “Please, calm down, I don’t mean to hurt or upset you; I’m only trying to help. You see, if none of these things bothers you, if instead, they excite and please you, then it’s not the cross dressing that’s the issue.” “Okay, so what then?” “Could I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” “What?” “When was the last time you had sex?” “A couple months ago, why?” “And before that, about how long?” “Maybe the same.” “I think I know what the problem is.” “Oh? What?” “You have never given this lifestyle a fair chance–you’ve never really given yourself a chance to feel comfortable with this side of your being.” “So, what do you suggest?’ “You’re going to think I’m merely trying to get into your panties.” “I don’t wear any, but go ahead.” “Nice! But what I think you need to do is to consider having sex, preferably while dressed, on a fairly regular basis, at least for a few weeks, to see how you like it. If you still feel uncomfortable, that’s one thing, you can always stop. But if not, you might be a lot happier than you are now. What have you got to lose?” I had to admit he had a point, even if he was volunteering to be that regular sexual partner. And what did I have to lose, anyway? My virginity? That ship had sailed. My inhibitions? My fears? If so, wouldn’t that be a good thing? “Okay, let’s say you’re right. What should I do, exactly?” “It’s a lot easier than you expect. Just choose someone with whom you feel as comfortable as you can, someone who seems safe, and tell him what you want. I gaurantee you you will have no difficulty finding a volunteer. It doesn’t have to be me, but it does have to be someone.” “But how often are you talking about?” “At least once a week, preferably two or three times, but no more that, at least not at first. You don’t want to get burned-out, or over-worked.” “I see.” “Could I make a suggestion?” “Sure, what? “Go home, think about this, and if you want to try it with me, give me a call or send me an e-mail. Here, I’ll give you my telephone number and e-mail address.” “Okay, thank you.” “I’ll take off now, and I hope I hear from you. But even if I don’t, please try what I suggest, otherwise you will keep on needlessly tormenting yourself.” “Okay, thanks.” “Bye Tracy.” “Bye Tom.” Well now, that was something! I gulped down what remained of my drink, and walked out into the crisp night air. It felt good, yet somehow dampened my ardor, albeit only temporarily. I knew what he said was true, even as he said it. There was nothing to consider, really. It was only a matter of putting it into practice. But would I have the guts? When I arrived home, I realized that my goal of “hooking up” with some guy both did and didn’t happen. I had to admit, he didn’t push it. That was a good sign. I went to bed, alone, sexually unsatisfied, realizing that this would continue if I failed to do what Tom had suggested. The next day I awoke with butterflies in my stomach. I knew what I had to do, but the courage and resolve of the previous night had disappeared, and in its place, the old anxiety had filled the vacuum. I forced myself to do what had to be done, and, despite much trepidation, called the number on the crumpled napkin. I heard a familiar voice. “Hello?” “Hi, Tom?” “Yes, is that you Tracy?” “Uh huh.” “I didn’t expect to her from you this soon. I wan’t sure if you would even call at all.” “Me neither, but I knew I had to do it. You were right last night Tom, and I want to thank you for your kindness.” “That’s so sweet of you to say Tracy honey; what would you like to do?” I just melted inside when he said that. Why? It just made me feel so soft and feminine, and I liked the feeling. I just wasn’t sure if I liked that I liked the feeling. “Well, I think I should do what you suggested, and I don’t know anyone whom it would be better to do it.” “I’m so flattered that you feel that way.” “So, I don’t know how to begin exactly, I mean….” “It’s okay sweetheart, we can take it slowly.” Christ, that ‘sweetheart’ crap really does it to me. Fuck! “So honey, when would you like to get together?” “Tomorrow is Sunday–would that be okay?” “Of course baby doll, that would be fine. Where would you like to meet?” “I think I would be more comfortable here, at least at first.” “Of course. Do you want to tell me where to come?” “Right.” Then I gave him my address, and we agreed upon a time, and hung up. Fuck. I was completely committed now, Çankaya escort no getting out of it. But it’s what I want, isn’t it? Well….yes and no. We’ll see. And how we’ll see. Oh boy. The day dragged by, and I felt aroused, frightened, excited, upset with myself for feeling excited, and generally exhausted from the energy that all this was using. Finally night came, and I went to bed early so I wouldn’t have to obsess over this anymore. The next morning, I awoke with a feeling of dread. Why? I wanted this. I asked for this. I needed to do this. I think the knowledge that I had made a potentially life-changing decision was what concerned me. Oh well, too late now. I got up, forced myself to eat something to keep my strength up, then prepared for my date. I won’t bore you with the usual descriptions of removing hair, or how sensuous it feels to put on nylons: those of us who’ve dressed already know, and those who haven’t need to find out for themselves. So what to wear? I think a little black dress, with black suede shoes, matching stockings, gold hoop earrings, and a velvet choker would do nicely. As the appointed hour approached, I began to relax; since I was all dressed up and ready to go, there was nothing more to do but wait. I didn’t have to wait long. Tom arrived right on time. He even brought some wine. How thoughtful!! “Hi,” I said nervously. “Hi Tracy, how are you?” “Okay, a little nervous, I’m not sure why. Please, come in.” “Thank you.” He handed me the wine, I took it into the kitchen. Tom followed. “Would you like me to open it for you?’ “Please.” As he deftly removed the cork, I retrieved two glasses. “Care for some now?” “Yes, thank you.” He poured some for me. I needed something at this point, and it tasted good besides. He took my hand, and led me over to the couch. I sat down, he sat beside me. He continued to hold my hand, gently caressing it. This was nice. “So, what, I mean, how, er,” I mumbled. At this point Tom pulled me toward him, and kissed me softly on the lips. I trembled with anticipation. He kissed me again. I kissed back, then parted my lips, hoping he’d take the hint. He did. I sucked on his tongue like a hungry animal. He said, “Take it easy!” “I can’t,” I replied. “I don’t want to rush you.” “It’s not rushing if it’s what I want, right?” He stood up and, holding both my hands, guided me to my feet. Then he took me in his arms, while kissing me on the neck. I thought my knees were going to collapse. “Tom please. I’ve been anticipating this for days; let’s go?” Wordlessly, he escorted me into the bedroom. Then, oh so gently, he began to undress me. I was so hot by then I couldn’t stand it. I cupped his cock and balls; he seemed to like that. Finally, I felt a little in control! My dress fell to the floor. Tom slid my panties down; they fell to my ankles, then joined my dress as I stepped out of them. I fell back on to the bed. Tom quickly undressed, then lay on the bed beside me. As he kissed me again, he began to move down to my neck. I wondered if he would suck on my nipples, but instead he parted my legs, and kissed and caressed my inner thighs with his tongue. I almost came right then and there. His cock was already hard, so I told him I wanted him to cum in my mouth. He appeared surprised by my boldness, but not displeased. While he lay on his back, I moved into position, then kissed the mushroom head of his beautiful cock. He responded nicely, and I felt gratified, so I licked its full length, slowly, teasingly, then back down again. I kept doing that, only after he was beside himself with desire did I finally take it in my soft, warm, wet mouth. I just held it there, motionless. Then, ever, so slowly, I began swirling my tongue around it, all the while keeping its full length, or most of it, in my mouth. I just loved this; I could have kept it up all day, in both senses of the term. As I caressed the underside of his glans, he began to moan, writhing in response to my ministrations. “Oh God, I can’t believe this, you’re amazing!” “Oh, everyone tells me that. You’re all just being sweet!” “Like hell! I’m telling you, you are one in a million.” “Well, I like what I do.” “Me too. Please please don’t stop.” I stopped. “Are you sure? I mean, I wouldn’t want you to get bored or anything.” “Oh God, you’re killing me!” “Well, I wouldn’t want to do that. Maybe we should do something else then. Want to watch TV?” “For God’s sake!!” “Hmmm? You want something?” “ Please .” “Please what?” I asked, all innocent-like. “For the love of God Tracy!!” It’s funny how sex seems to elicit expressions of religiosity from people, isn’t it? Cebeci Escort “Okay, okay.” I went back to ‘work’. I started to pump, up and down, pulling out from the tip with a slurppy “pop” as I sucked as well as pumped. This about drove him to distraction, which only excited me more, so much so I actually came before he did, without either of us even touching me. He was too preoccupied to notice. As he began to buck, I knew my reward wasn’t far off. I just kept varying my routine, and waited. I didn’t have to wait long. As he lost all control, he came in firm spurts, and the warm, sweet, ambrosial liquid flooded into my waiting, eager mouth. I swallowed, as I always do, and savored the multiple blasts. I sat up. Tom looked spent; spent, but happy. I lay down beside him, and he clasped me in his arms, and kissed me on my head as we cuddled for an indeterminate amount of time. I held his now supple cock in my tiny hand. After a while, it began to stir back to life, and I gently kneaded it to its full extent. Then I kissed him on the stomach, licking and caressing with my lips and tongue. I moved down, but skipped his cock and balls, and went to his thigh, as he had mine, just above the knee. Using my tongue in the same way, I moved ever so slowly up to his balls, but before reaching them, moved back down again. I repeated this a few times before moving to the other leg. If he was hard before, he was positively rigid now. I asked him if he would like me to suck on his cock again. He didn’t say anything, but the expression on his face said it all. I repeated my earlier activities, this time stopping short of allowing him to cum. I had other ideas, and apparently so did he. He exchanged places with me, reached for some lubricant I had on the nightstand, then adroitly and gently prepared my already waiting ass-pussy. He parted my legs, placing them on his shoulders, then slowly, sweetly, entered me. I was at peace. He just held it there, not moving for the longest while. When I could stand it no longer, I said, “Tom, please.” “Please? Please what?” Oh fuck, he was paying me back now. Great. “Oh come on, don’t make me wait.” “Okay, I can’t do that to you after what you did for me.” “Thank you.” With that, he commenced pleasuring me, slowly, gradually building to a crescendo of passion, stopping when it appeared I might cum, only to begin again, then stop, then begin. I don’t know how long this lasted, but eventually I did cum; and how I came. I thought he had too, but no, he just paused for a bit, then resumed fucking. “Holy shit, are you going to continue?” I asked. “Yes, we’re just getting started. You need to find out just how horny you can be, and how passionate.” “Just getting started? What do you mean?” “You’ll find out soon enough. Just lie there and relax; I’ll take care of the rest.” And, he did. Half an hour later, he was still at it. No one had ever gone that long with me before, and he didn’t even seem tired. What did this man eat? I felt the familiar upsurge of desire and arousal, and to my surprise, experienced another pulsating orgasm. I figured that was it, no way I could cum anymore, and no way he could keep fucking me. Boy was I wrong; wrong on both counts. I started to feel like I was going to cum again; I told Tom I didn’t feel like I could take any more. He just ignored me, and said he wan’t going to stop anytime soon. “Don’t keep fighting it–” “But I’m not a woman!” “No? You may not have the body of a woman, but you sure have the desires of a woman, the feelings of a woman, the reactions of a woman, the responses of a woman. You dress like one, smell like one, act like one, and have a smooth, slender, petite body like one. There’s more to being a woman than having a pussy. Psychologically, and in your behavior, your passions, you’re more woman than most, believe me! You suck cock like one, and you let me fuck you, just like a woman. Face it, you’ve got a woman’s figure and a woman’s emotions. You like dressing up in girly clothes, and you look fucking good as a girl. Why don’t you just cut the crap and, more to the point, accept that you are a woman, at least in part.” “I don’t know, I–I….” “Tell me you don’t like this!” “I can’t.” He was almost assuredly right. I was, in my actions and reactions, and to all appearances, a woman, at least at times, and to some extent, but my pride resisted that admission. However, there’s no point in fighting it. What happened, happened. You can deny the facts of reality all you like, but that won’t make them go away, will it? We had now been at it for a good hour and a half, maybe more, and he was still fucking me. He had re-lubricated his cock, so as not to injure me, but he went at it like he hadn’t had sex for months. He picked up the pace, and as he sensed my growing excitement, he accelerated his fucking to a fever pitch, pounding me hard and long. I loved it. When I couldn’t hold it any longer, my body convulsed in uncontrollable spasms.

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