Some of the detail in this story is fiction, but it is

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

the consequences. I think of it as `` enhanced Truth '', for

as the Irish people say `` a good taradiddle should always improve in

the telling ''. For the criminal record I spent several years as a

child with a house total of Irish whiskey navvies, and great

dorsum in the deep 1960 's I came menage on leave from the Army

to find my mother was away looking after her young sister

who was ill. My father had disappeared when I was a child

so I had the place to myself. All my old mates 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

'' love killer '' tights were the common article of clothing for fille at the

metre, I had begun my interestingness in girls when stockings and

suspenders were normal ( far easier to get your workforce in a

little girl knickers 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 mothers boxershorts and found lots of tan

stockings ( not much selection of colours then, even total darkness was rare

and regarded as too sexy for day to day wear ).

Next I found her stays and brace belted ammunition, slickness etc, and

soon sat in a deep, boned white corset with the four gallus

attached with those little triangular tab key to tan nylon stockings.


These had very niggling stretchiness in them so once attached they and

the boning gave a feeling of tight containment which I really

enjoyed. With the abruptly brace tabs and stockings designed to

only reach mid thigh, the square edge of the corset stopped at

the fundament of my fanny cheeks at the back end and pressed hard on

the base of my prick at the front line, giving delicious flavour,

the whole affair had me bone hard, which tented the white silky

slipperiness I was wearing.


For an hr or More, I sat in front of a mirror, moving my legs

to `` flash '' stocking tiptop and Patrick White thigh frame, and occasionally

my own peter, all very sexy but no pics then unless you were racy

enough to own a Polaroid.


After wetting my thighs and stocking pinnacle with my own cum, I cleaned

up and with `` formula '' apparel on drove into the nearby food market Ithiel Town. As

fate would hold it I found a parking lieu close to the townspeople kernel

populace toilets, the old hugger-mugger character, now sadly gone in nearly places.

This small town loo only had two traps, but I would go and study both

doors, like any normal male.


Soon I was sat in a bunker reading the dirty stories, still at that

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

bent forward to read a dependable one at the stern of the door, something

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

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

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

much later ).


My immediate reaction was to pull up my trousers and leave the loo

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

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

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

must be a eyehole in the partitioning and I had flashed my bare arse to

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

finger wiggling had me. I even considered that there was a Brigham Young young lady

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

that naif ).


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

over, down the footstep and back into my original bunker. I dropped my

trouser, faced the partition, and put one human foot slightly under the gap

at the rump. my metrical unit was tapped and soon a note passed under, saying

'' CUM IN HERE ''.


Going following room access took only a momment, and the door was locked behind me.

I found a 50ish man who put his cock in my manus and started stroking

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

I started returning without intellection, finding it very pleasurable before any

bad reaction came, so I kissed back heavily with maximum spit action.

His free hand started groping my arsehole and soon I found out what the

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

was enjoying it.


Breaking the osculation I whispered that I had a safe situation, transport near

and about my dressing that morning. He told me his name was Gospel According to John and

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

both stroking the others cock. Once home base we went to the bedroom and I

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

started to feel very sexy in my gearing and started kissing him hard again

as he explored my consistency with his work force.


On the drive up I had asked him to teach 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 enjoy it ever since,


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

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

fertilization, that I would suit a `` Bottom '' who would lactate cock and take in it up

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

in both cast, my cock stiffened as I thought of being a bottom.


SO, JUST like THAT, MY NEW PLACE IN sprightliness WAS DECIDED ! !


Trully we are ruled by our cocks.


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

by holding the al-Qaida of the prick and as much more of its length as needed.

I learned to skin back the foreskin from the helmet with my sass and to

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

cock and to always keep my teeth solve of this wanted meat. Soon I was

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


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

do one `` bob '' every five instant or so, keeping him deep in my mouth at the

end of each one, as I relaxed my travelling bag on his cock to allow a little more

in each time. As I started to gag a little, he told me to try swallowing

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

his pubic hair on my backtalk, and soon did.


All this kept him nice and hard, and got me used to having a shaft in my

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

again ) my bunghole with some lubricant ( by the end of the session I was

using his verbal description, and calling it my `` pussy '' ). One, two, then three finger's breadth

entered my pussy to their entire duration, stroking in and out and round and round of drinks

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

beginning to think of myself. Its good story how fingerbreadth up your kitty-cat can change

your perceptions.


St. John the Apostle then asked me to kneel on the sharpness of the bed, arse in air and steer down

into a pillow, while he stood on the flooring behind me at just the right hight to

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

pussy, pushing firmly forward and telling me to try to act as if I was pushing

a shite out ( which, perhaps counter-intuitively, opened my pussy up ). A short period

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

the helmet, I was no longer a virgin, but part way to being a true `` girl ''.


I experienced some slight pain, but his cooking had done the job, and after a

couple of minutes for my soundbox to conform, he began to slowly play his full length

in. Out an inch, back in one and a half, adding lubricating substance at every out stroke til

the hair that had tickled my Chin, now tickled my boldness. Again he paused, this

time fully in me, for a duet of proceedings to get me used to a puss full phase of the moon, then

slid fully out, but straight back in again, working the entrance brawn, which was

still slightly painful, as well as getting my deeper bowel used to the invasion

of operose essence. After a few moment of this, and after all pain stopped as he

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

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

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


Without warning, I had an intense orgasm, spilling slews of spunk onto the tabloid,

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

'' Rode The tiger '', all the prison term fucking me concentrated and faster, till I had another,

less intense but much longer cum, gripping him with heavily spasms of my slit and

taking him over the bound into his. My bowels getting a thickset finishing of his spermatozoan,

enough to make water several sister if I had had the right equipment.


Both our prick slowly wilted after such an intense piece of tail, til his dropped out with

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


John stayed several more hours, 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 salve to

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

fondled between screw. He knew that I had ten days leave left and nix to do and

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

two shtup tomorrow, but that I deserved more ( I agreed ). So he would issue forth `` tenish ''

with a couple of his `` Top '' friends, to continue My `` initiation ''. They would also bring

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


Rather than have me take away him back to where we had met, he used our telephone set to call off

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

he pulled out his cock to bear witness me. It was MUCH self-aggrandizing than Saint John the Apostle, and I think Sam

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

been fucked enough for the initiative day and could be damaged or put-off by more. But

that a good nights rest would have me fix for Melville Weston Fuller sessions the next day.


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

taken me through my for the first time steps 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 blase '' in a different way.


Perhaps tomorrow night would happen me even more bored ?


I HOPED SO !

people they were.

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