Reminiscences

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My phone rang. The phone didn't recognize who was calling, the nnumber was from abroad. I picked up.

Hello, Martin's here, a voice said. I'm here in the town near you. I was planning a business meeting but

it got cancelled, so I've thought we have a few beers together.

I gulped. An almost forgotten thrill flooded my whole body and I immediately remembered it. The thrill I felt so many times, but when was the last time?

Eight years ago?

OK, I said, trying to sound calm. I knew I couldn't ask Martin anything. I've never been the one to ask, never been the one to decide and frankly I was not capable doing such things, much less ever wanting to do them.

What's your address? Martin asked.

I told him.

I've got a hotel here, but if you have a spare bed I could check-out

of the hotel and come to your place right now.

I gulped again, and the excitement came back with greater intensity.

Bed. Bed with Martin in it. Wild images ran through my mind and body. Immediately my clitty harden and I gave it a squeeze through my panties.

Yes, a bed is not a problem, I replied.

I sent him my address once more.

Two hours later, the bell rang at my door. I opened the door and there he was, standing in front of me, so beautiful, so irresistible.

He was wearing knee length cycling shorts. They were tight, showing off his muscular legs and his package, which, of course, immediately caught my eyes and I had problems lifting my eyes to looked at the rest of him. To look at the face and body of my high school god.

If I dared, I would get down on my knees and put my head to his crotch to feel his body and smell his scent. And I would show him how I loved him and felt like his girl, hiding from the whole world in his crotch, in a place, where everything was smooth and beautiful.

I'd always worried, that he gotten fat, because he was a little chubby

in those old days But he, on contrary,, had only a small belly-pot.

His muscles were well defined and big and he was even more attractive. And I suddenly knew, that I was wrong. I never lost my feelings for him, even though I thought that way.

His face, with its contemptuous and arrogant expression was like a dream

for every little sissy like me, who loved these type of males, strong, dominant, selfish.

We said hello.

Where is your bathroom, he asked. I need to use it, then I'll shower and we'll go to a pub. I showed him the right door. I couldn't help but listened to the sound of his urine splashing, hitting

the surface of the water in the bowl. Yes, I loved every bit of him, every possible thing about him.

I imagined his penis, which I knew so well.

I closed my eyes, moaned, then somehow controlled myself and went to find a towl for him.

I quickly opened the bathroom door, where he was showering and told him,

I had brought the towel. Then I went to my room and put on new, fresh panties to wear under my male shorts.

I knew exactly, what to wer. Black thong, nothing in the backside and see-through in the front.

To recall memories, reminiscences of the past, of the first time the man I loved made love to me.

My shorts were also knee length and showed nothing because they were baggy. If I had worn some of my leggings, or even stockinggs under a short skirt, they would have shown the thighs, which were much more slimmer than Martin's but well shaped and feminine.

I also worked out, but my exercises were made to make my ass rounder and my legs slimmer.

But even though , I was wearing baggy shorts, one thing was clearly visible, Martin was turning me on a lot. Like he aalways did.

We went to the nearby restaurant that I hoped he would like. he considered himself a gourmet and I thought the restaurant had good food.

We ate something. He drank a few beers. I prefered dry wine, , hoping it was not so as devastating to my physique as beer. . He told me, he was married. He showed me the pictures of his wife, a really good looking blond with dreamy look in her eyes, slim and tall or so she appeared.

Very much like the girl he dated at high school, though the high school sweetheart was dark haired. I told him that she was really beutiful, and that she was lucky that

Martin had chosen her and married her. Mart . in agreed, he always considered him the best, several levels up than everyone else.

And I really meant the comment about her happiness seriously. How lucky I would be if I was in her shoes, and could love him without any hitches. And, therefore, I couldn't help myself. Quick images appeared in front of my inner vision. Shots of his wife in white weddding dress and

Martin making love to her, after she undressed. Or maybe she hadn't had time to undres. I knew how impatient and demanding Martin could be.

And well, there was no blond in the picture I was imagening at the wedding and on the honeymoon, pictured someone completely different. Someone who would had desired to been in that place next to Martin

for 10 years.

With my virgin-white skirt rolled up and my legs spread wide to surrender to him.

He told me about all his successes, about his career success, that was really remarkable, about his athletic successes.

Feel that muscles her, he said and show me his tigh hugged in the cyclo shorts.

Of course I felt that and of course the muscles were fantastic and I run my hand up an down and close to his bulge.

The stories he always told about his superiority over others were abit exaggerated. But I loved hearing them and he probably liked watching me listen to

them. Because no one would listen to them with such fascination and

probably a pious look on the face.

Our class mates sometimes made fun of this side of Martin's personality. Probably his girlfriends and wife didn't listen to him with much interest either after hearing so many similar stories with Martin as the hero.

I listened to him over and over again and was always ready to be around to listen and look at him lovingly. And to accept every word he said to me. I knew, he was the best, after all. It was like a rock band fan who only wants to talk about her idil, and is ready to listen anything that makes the idol even beter and better than the best.

I couldn't touch his cock as he showed me his sexy legs and told me, to feel his thighs. I couldn't asked him anything about our relationship. I couldn't expressed my feelings. I never did. I just did what he wanted me to do when he wanted me to do it.

It started 10 years ago.

I was in love with him then. But my love was a secret just like my sissyness I was playing a regular high schoolkid. But I liked him at first sight. Or, truth be told I was in love with him fromm the first time I saw him.

Blond, a little chubby, his face always had the same contemptuous and arrogant look just like today.

We were on a school trip. He was dating Monique the girl I never found

attractive. On the trip, he was talking to her, I saw them to leave the hall where we were sitting and eating and drinking. I guessed from the looks on their faces that they were having serious conversation. They were definitely discussing their first time making love.

As always he was the one who insisted and she was the one, who was not sure about the whole thing. They left and in that moment I figured they were going to fuck.

Oddly enough, I was hurt , and disappointed,though there was no real reason why should I was be disappointed. I was not a class queen who could probably hope to be Martin's. I wasn't really a girl, beautiful or ugly, and I couldn't have any expectations.

But, whatever, I was in love with him, so why shouldn't I envy Monique.

I was so jealous of her that I went to my room to calm down. Calming down in the moment meant getting dressed in sexy lingerie. I still don't understand why I left the door unlocked.

Martin, in fact, wasn't actually making love to her. She was still a virgin and probably didn't feel up to beiing his lover that night..

So he went back to his room, upset and horny. Full of hormones like most teenage boys do, ready to screw anyone,

anywhere, anyhow. A detail I didn't mention was, that we shared the room, so his room was the one in which I was lying on the bed, in black thong and black hold up stockings, facing the wall with a finger in my pussy, dreaming about him.

So the picture Martin saw when he entered the room was a sexy ass in

black bikini, long legs in sexy stockings and a finger lost somewhere in between the globes of my ass. He heard moans coming from the sexy creature there on the bed

I said that the ass was sexy. Truth be told, I wasn't sure about my look

at the time. I was very insecure as a boy and with my female ego it was not any better, although I preferred being a girl and felt much sexier

and better and just, that was all I wanted, to be a woman.

But Martin must have found my ass sexy. He came on to mi. Iwas scared to death, full of terror, unable to think. About the only thought I had in my head was that I didn't lock the door, oh what an idiot I am.

Martin looked at me for several long moments. Then said, clearly and commandingly.

Get down on all fours. I did so immediately, a little tipsy, a little numb from the horror.

After a moment, I felt the back strip of my panties being pulled aside and something touching my entrance.

Then came the pain. luckily, I lubed up before I started playing with myself , but his cock wasnt lube up, he was horny, anger and not experienced enough to take into account differences between a pussy and an ass.

I laid my head on the pilllow and screamed into it, the pain was excruciating.

It seemd that it turned him on even more,and he began to fuck me mercilessly, like there was no tomorrow, I was not his sweet girl he treated with care and affection , I was just a hole he was fucking. And I was dressed like a whore, so he fucke me like a whore.

After a few thrusts I started to feel something new, something that was much better than the feeling of being finger fucked.

And as my mentaal balance was restored , I somehow realized, that the man who was fucking me was Martin, my beloved Martin, the great guy

Martin is fucking me, I thought. I'm being fucked , told myself. It sounded strange, thrilling and almost absurd , Like a little child saing something non-sensical because it is not capable to express himself

The psychological sensations that the situation created, the fact that I was suddenly experiencing my long-lasting dream, and the physical sensations caused by my underwear, the fantastic penis that was making rhythmic movements inside me, all awakened in me a state of bliss that I had never experienced.

I started to moan and I could hear him moaning.

We moved together, we were one, we were lovers.

The person Martin fucked that evening was not Monique, it was me. I was the lucky girl.

I became intansly aware of the movement as his penis opened me up. I

could feel it through the walls of my pussy. . I could feel his balls, slapping against me of regular intervals.

I began to savor the feeling, oh, so incredibly delicious. I just whispered the words of love to myself, because somewhere in my head I realized that he probably wasn't in love with me.

But he was fucking me anyway, I was the one giving him satisfaction, relief of his frustration. I was more than happy to be there. For the purpose. I was more than hapy to be in the same bed with him. And I was more than happy, when he stopped moving and I realized he was filling me his seed.

The things that just happened here had changed me and I knew I would never be as happy as I was the moment being impregnated by the man I loved, dreamed of, and imagined. the love was now a reality.

I was experiencing my love and my love for him have reached the top

level in that moment, when I felt my love with my whole body, and felt it being watered by his seed.

A long moan of happiness gushed from deep within me, my life changed. I knew that for the rest of my life, I would only be able to. feel love

as a girl, with a man like Martin. And I knew that I would never be grateful enough to men who gave me the opportunity to feel those feelings.

He pulled his penis out of me and post coital depression took over. It wouldn't have happen with Monique, but with me, he suddenly realized, he was fucking his classmate, a boy dressed in sexy lingerie but still a boy. And he didn't want to be a faggot.

He sat on the bed, I lay there, pussy and soul satisfied. But of course, when I regained ability to thing I began to understand the situation. We were teenagers among other teenagers, and teenagers can be cruel when you don't follow the established rules.

Martin followed them untill now, a handsome guy, who dated a great girl, who considerd himself the cool guy , the best of our teenage community. I, on the other hand, was not so cool . I was not able to date any girl and to be honest I didn't even try because I wasn't really into it. I didn't play soccer well. But ok, I was also a guy with some respect. Now, we were just fags

Maybe I didn't consider myself a faggot, I always felt like a girl and was undoubtedly in love with the boy, who just made love to me, and everything suited me but of course the others couldn't see it that way.

After a while, I dared to look at him.

I saw his direct gaze, directed at me, and when I saw how much confidence and strength there was in that look I almost groaned

with relief.

Suddenly I knew,that this man, I had fallen in love was the man every woman wanted. And I wanted him even more, because my insecurities , my fears, didn't play a role. Everything will be all right, when he was near me. Everything will be all right, when I was in his arms. I was going to find , that in the future, my liking for men would

somehow led me to men I who made me feel safe, protected and happy even if they were rude and very strict with me.

Martin approached me,probably saw how my terror turned into love and devotion. And probably the image he saw was that of a girl in love, a happy girl in love as her secret love came true.

and he knew there is only one person I could be in love with.

He was a man, after all and seeing a small, in some ways cute person so beloved made him confident, his male ego felt great for sure.

He also knew, that I would do whatever he wanted., without objection. And it didn't seem that I regret my submission. I knew in that moment that he looked into my soul and into my heart and knew I belonged to him, absolutely. And I would prefer him over anyone or anything.

, And I'm sure he was sure it was absolutely right.. Well could the little missy has fallen in love with anyone but him? So extraordinary guy, when she had just felt his exquisite penis inside

her, surely she must have realized that nothing could be better than being with Martin.

So my love and his self centredness made our relationship very satisfying in its own way and in different ways for both of us.

Well I was jealous of Monique, of his wife of every woman I didn't know he'd met. It seemed unfair, that I couldn't be his wife. I had an ego too, a sissy's ego and I was sure he couldn't have a wife loving enough, devoted enough, willing enough, understanding enough and who admired him as much as I did.

He put his hand on my shoulder.

We'll keep it a secret.

Yes, my...Martin, I said. And it sounded like I was his and I'll do whatever he said, i'll keep quiet if he wants me to or I'll tell everyone if he wants me to .

He pulled my head to his cock. The hormones of a teenage boy, with strong stamina took over. I swallowed obediently. Iswallowed him with passion. I loved him and he was definitely the sexiest man in the world. And from now on, I was happy only with men like my first lover.was.

He started shoving his cock down my throat like it was a cunt.

Hold on, he whispered and took my head. I looked at him, the look on his face was worth everything, for his hard thrusts into my throat, for my gagging, for little panic I felt because I couldn't breathe properly, for the tears streaming down my face and for the pain there in my throat and for lasting pain in my pussy as he took it it really without mercy.

But the look, the look of absolute pleasure that was on his face was causing me pleasure. I was the one, who gave him that pleasure. It was I, who was giving it to him again, anywhere, anytime, anyway.

He made one last thrust, and his seed went straight down . Into my stomach. I couldn't taste the surely delicate taste.

But as he had his cock, deep in my mouth, his moans sonded like nothing else to me.

I sat on the bed, trying to breathe somehow, feeling his cock in my throat and his hands on the back of my head.

But those hands seemed to hold me with a kind of tenderness. Maybe he liked me as his girl.