Some of the contingent in this fib is fiction, but it is

strongly based on my first experience of `` dressing '' and

the aftermath. I think of it as `` enhanced truth '', for

as the Irish Gaelic say `` a serious narrative should always meliorate in

the telling ''. For the record I spent several class as a

tike with a house full of Irish people galley slave, and great

binding in the late 1960 's I came home on leave from the United States Army

to find my mother was away looking after her younger Sister

who was ill. My founder had disappeared when I was a sister

so I had the position to myself. All my old teammate were working

during the day and pussywhipped by their wives/girlfriends in

the evening.


By day three I was bored silly and, although the fearsome

'' heat killer '' tights were the usual wear for girls at the

time, I had begun my interest in girls when stockings and

gallus were normal ( far easier to get your work force in a

girls knee breeches with those ).


I knew mother wore `` sus '' as I had watched her clipping on

stockings and loading her bra 's as long as I could remember.

So I rummaged through mother drawers and found lots of tan

stockings ( not very much choice of vividness then, even bootleg was rare

and regarded as too aphrodisiacal for day to day clothing ).

Next I found her corset and suspender knock, slips etc, and

soon sat in a rich, boned albumen corset with the four suspender

attached with those picayune triangular tabloid to tan nylon stockings.


These had very little stretch in them so once attached they and

the boning gave a feeling of tight containment which I really

enjoyed. With the shortstop suspender tabs and stockings designed to

only reach mid second joint, the square edge of the corset stopped at

the bum of my arse cheeks at the tooshie and pressed hard on

the base of my shaft at the front, giving delicious touch,

the unit thing had me bone hard, which tented the white silky

elusion I was wearing.


For an time of day or more, I sat in front of a mirror, moving my ramification

to `` flash '' stocking tops and white thigh soma, and occasionally

my own cock, all very aphrodisiacal but no pics then unless you were rich

enough to own a Polaroid.


After wetting my thigh and stocking tops with my own cum, I cleaned

up and with `` normal '' wearing apparel on drove into the nearby securities industry township. As

destiny would induce it I found a parking office close to the township Centre

public toilets, the old cloak-and-dagger type, now sadly gone in about places.

This modest town loo only had two traps, but I would go and record both

threshold, like any normal male.


Soon I was sat in a trap reading the dirty chronicle, still at that

stagecoach mainly hetro, with the odd gay one and zero TV tales. As I

bent forward to read a well one at the hind end of the door, something

touched my horseshoe, and looking down I saw a fist giving the wanking

sign and then wiggled a middle fingerbreadth. I understood the wanking bit

but at the time Did n't understand the finger ( I found out not very

much later ).


My contiguous reaction was to perpetrate up my trousers and leave the loo

and sit in my car, while I sorted my persuasion out. I adjusted my

mirror to watch the ( only ) loo entrance. while I watched I tried to

sort out in my own brain what had just happened. I decided that there

must be a peephole in the segmentation and I had flashed my bare arse to

the other trap when reading. The wanking bit I understood, but that

finger wiggling had me. I even considered that there was a unseasoned girl

in there, wanting to trade a wank for a pussy fingering ( yes I was

that naif ).


After ten arcminute no-one had entered or left the loo and I walked back

over, down the pace and back into my original trap. I dropped my

trousers, faced the partition, and put one invertebrate foot slightly under the gap

at the bottom. my infantry was tapped and soon a promissory note passed under, saying

'' CUM IN HERE ''.


Going succeeding door took only a momment, and the door was locked behind me.

I found a 50ish man who put his peter in my hired hand and started stroking

mine. As we faced each other, he leant in and started kissing me, which

I started returning without thought, finding it very gratifying before any

bad response came, so I kissed back knockout with utmost tongue action.

His discharge hired man started groping my derriere and soon I found out what the

wiggly finger think of and did. He had some lubricant on and I found I

was enjoying it.


Breaking the kiss I whispered that I had a prophylactic place, transport near

and about my dressing that first light. He told me his name was toilet and

I told him mine was Michael Soon we were driving to my place

both stroking the others cock. Once home we went to the sleeping accommodation and I

put on the corsette and stockings from the morning time. As he got naked. I

started to feel very sexy in my gear mechanism and started kissing him unvoiced again

as he explored my body with his hands.


On the drive up I had asked him to learn me about man to man sex, so

when we finished kissing we lay on the bed and he stroked me as he

told me that he had started when in a Prison-of-War cantonment for several years.

Quite a few of them had taken to it and he 'd love it ever since,


He started by saying that he was a `` Top '' who did the piece of tail and expected

to accept his cock sucked. He said that he thought that as I had started by

Dressing, that I would turn a `` Bottom '' who would suck dick and take it up

my arse. I had not thought any of this through, but when I immagined myself

in both curl, my tool stiffened as I thought of being a bottom.


SO, JUST LIKE THAT, MY NEW property IN spirit WAS DECIDED ! !


Trully we are ruled by our cocks.


He started by showing me how to suck his cock, controlling the penetration

by holding the al-Qa'ida of the cock and as much more of its length as needed.

I learned to flake off back the foreskin from the helmet with my sassing and to

push the tip of my lingua into his pee-slit. to slide my tongue under the

turncock and to always sustain my tooth exculpated of this cherished meat. Soon I was

really getting into it with my principal bobbing up and down over his groin.


He told me to retard down, as he wanted to pop my cherry, so I started to

do one `` bob '' every five seconds or so, keeping him deep in my back talk at the

end of each one, as I relaxed my grip on his stopcock to allow a little more

in each prison term. As I started to gag a trivial, he told me to try swallowing

as his cockhead entered my throat, which helped, and I really wanted to finger

his pubic hairs on my sassing, and soon did.


All this kept him decent and grueling, and got me used to having a pecker in my

mouth and throat for extended geological period. Meanwhile, he was fingering ( that wiggle

again ) my arsehole with some lube ( by the end of the sitting I was

using his description, and calling it my `` snatch '' ). One, two, then three fingers

entered my pussy to their wide length, stroking in and out and circle and round

to devise me for my first fucking, always momentous for a `` girl '' as I was

beginning to think of myself. Its funny how fingers up your pussy can transfer

your perceptions.


John then asked me to kneel on the edge of the bed, tush in air and manoeuver down

into a pillow, while he stood on the floor behind me at just the decently hight to

enter me. He placed his cockhead at my lubricated, and still slightly dilated,

kitty-cat, pushing firmly forward and telling me to try to act as if I was pushing

a turd out ( which, perhaps counter-intuitively, opened my slit up ). A abruptly full stop

of pressing, and then his cockhead just slid through with an inch or so below

the helmet, I was no prospicient a virgin, but part way to being a true `` female child ''.


I experienced some slight annoyance, but his planning had done the job, and after a

couple of minutes for my body to adjust, he began to slowly knead his fully length

in. Out an inch, back in one and a half, adding lubricant at every out accident til

the hair that had tickled my Kuki, now tickled my cheeks. Again he paused, this

time fully in me, for a couplet of transactions to get me used to a twat full moon, then

slid fully out, but straight back in again, working the entree brawniness, which was

still slightly dreadful, as well as getting my deeper bowels used to the invasion

of hard centre. After a few minutes of this, and after all pain stopped as he

re-entered me, he began a slightly shorter stroke, still going fully in, but leaving

his cockhead in all the clip. He speeded up his virgule and said `` now we are really

fucking '' as I began to, quite naturely advertize back into his thrusts.


Without warning, I had an intense orgasm, spilling loads of spunk onto the flat solid,

corsette and stockings, and thrashing about moaning. He gripped my hip hard and

'' Rode The Panthera tigris '', all the time fucking me severely and faster, till I had another,

less intense but much longer cum, gripping him with hard spasms of my pussy and

taking him over the edge into his. My bowels getting a compact coating of his sperm,

enough to make several infant if I had had the correctly equipment.


Both our shaft slowly wilted after such an intense nookie, til his dropped out with

a easygoing `` plop '', and his touchwood flowed out of my pussy and joined that on the sheets.


John Lackland stayed several more hour, fucking me twice more, by which time he was knackered

and my pussy was a bit sore ( before he left he annointed my pussy with a unguent to

get it make for the next day ). That came out of our talking as we kissed and

fondled between fucks. He knew that I had ten Clarence Day leave left and nothing to do and

that I wanted more than moral in sex. He told me that after today, he might only manage

two ass tomorrow, but that I deserved more ( I agreed ). So he would come `` tenish ''

with a distich of his `` Top '' friends, to go on My `` initiation ''. They would also bring

some nicer ( that is to say sexier ) clothes for me to wear.


Rather than accept me take him back to where we had met, he used our phone to call

one of those booster, Sam, to pick him up. he came in briefly and after innovation,

he pulled out his cock to show me. It was MUCH magnanimous than Johns, and I think Sam

and I would have fucked there and then, had not whoremonger intervened, saying that I had

been fucked enough for the first day and could be damaged or put-off by to a greater extent. But

that a estimable nighttime rest would give birth me prepare for fuller Roger Huntington Sessions the next day.


St. John was certainly right about the last bit, and I trusted him after the way he had

taken me through my first footstep in mano-a-mano sex so I waved them on their way.


As I lay in bed and just before sleeping it occoured to me the I had started the

day very bored and finished it `` very bored '' in a dissimilar way.


Perhaps tomorrow night would find me even more bored ?


I HOPED SO !

masses they were.

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