From alt.sex.stories.tg Sat Jun 8 23:22:22 1996 Path: mordred.cc.jyu.fi!news.csc.fi!news.eunet.fi!EU.net!usenet2.news.uk.psi.net!uknet!psinntp!psinntp!howland.reston.ans.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!news.ycc.yale.edu!yale!gumby!newspump.wustl.edu!news.icon-stl.net!usenet ~~Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg ~~Organization: St. Louis Internet Connections ~Lines: 466 Message-ID: 31B72444.C33@icon-stl.net ~References: 31B70F4F.642A@icon-stl.net NNTP-Posting-Host: dialup-86.icon-stl.net Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=iso-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit X-Mailer: Mozilla 2.0 (Win16; I)
terri wrote: > > If this works, I'll post a story.
I first met Chris our sophomore year in high school. He was a transfer student, and so by nature was very shy. He didn't seem to have any real friends, and new ones were slow in coming. This never really seemed to bother him, as he was quite content to keep to himself most of the time.
To his credit, he did seem to have a rapport with the girls in the class, and mingled among them when appropriate quite easily. When questioned about this later, several of them reported that he was just so friendly and sensitive, and kinda cute, and he had such an easy going manner. This was complete news to the boys in the class, who viewed him as being distant, cold, and wimpy. In retrospect, I'm forced to admit that, while I'm no great judge of male beauty, Chris was actually quite attractive. He had naturally tanned skin, and was slight of frame. He stood about 5'6"--short for a boy, and weighed in the neighborhood of 130 pounds. His hair was golden brown, long in back, almost to his neck, and long in front as well. I bet it would have hung down below his nose had he combed it forward, but he slicked it back stylishly. He wore sweat shirts and jeans every day, even on the hottest of September afternoons, but they just helped add bulk that his upper body seemed to be missing, and so added to his physique. His face was oval shaped, but I think what had the girls in a tizzy was his eyes. They were, quite frankly, big and beautiful. He could probably melt things with them if he'd tried.
Chris was in several of my classes, and I kept my eye on him for a few weeks, trying to figure him out. I had no real social conscience at the time, and so the fact that he had no guy friends didn't particularly weigh on me. I was just interested in the dynamics of coping in a new school. This was important to me, as my parents had informed me that the likelihood of my own father being transferred to another city within the next year was pretty large and that I should prepare myself for that eventuality, should it arise. Spying on Chris was my way of preparing. I kept making mental notes of do's and don'ts as I watched him fumble his way through an awkward month of September. By the beginning of October, I was fairly well through collecting data, and was fairly uninterested by that point about Chris's particular tribulations. The only thing that was of any interest to me whatsoever was the fact that, for whatever reason, Chris was being allowed by the administration, and over the protestations of the gym coach, I may add, to shower separately and after the other guys during P.E. classes. I, personally, found this to be no end of strange. Admittedly, even in your sophomore year, guys aren't completely comfortable showering with other guys, but you'll never catch any 14 year old admitting that he's embarrassed about it. Apparently, though, Chris was. And apparently his parents held enough sway with the administration to convince them that Chris deserved this rare privilege.
During the normal shower period, there was, particularly at first, no end of speculation as to what the real reason was that he couldn't face the same humiliation as the rest of us. These comments too began to die down after a month or so, as no one wanted to seem to be fixating on Chris's peculiarities. No one, that is, except for me. I was quite interested in the perceived special treatment that he was receiving, and, ultimately, how I may, one day be able to use the same tricks to my advantage. Besides, there was a bit of a mystery here to crack, and I thought it would be a hoot to get to the bottom of it. And so, one day in mid October, after gym class, I dilly-dallied around while most of the guys were cleaning up, and leaving the locker room. And while they all filed out, I discreetly ducked into the shower, out the other side, and hide quietly away in a dark and forgotten corner of the locker room. Coach was in the habit of giving the place a quick once over before he allowed Chris in to do his thing, but after a month and a half without incident, he had become rather lax at the repetitive task and now just treated it as a formality. Needless to say, neither of them had any clue that I was back there. I heard the locker room door close, and then a locker open, and several items get shifted around. Then the muffled sound of buttons unsnapping and a zipper lowering, and clothes falling to the floor, and then the sound of footsteps entering the shower area. It was at this moment that I nonchalantly popped out from behind the other opening that led to several lockers that were no longer in use. I was going to plead ignorance and explain to him that it was just an unfortunate mistake, and that I'd be going now. Instead, however, I just froze where I stood as I caught my first glimpse of Chris's naked body. No speculation that the guys had made in their crudest and most degrading wit could have equaled this. Several things bear comment about the way Chris looked. First, and least, his body was, from foot to neck, completely hairless and smooth. Even the latest bloomers among us had at least a little hair on our bodies. Second was the size of his penis. One or two of the guys had not entered puberty yet, and so it wasn't completely surprising to see the tiny thing tucked gracefully between his legs, not even dangling, but with the head pointing straight out, as there wasn't nearly enough length to bend. Not surprising, but still an interesting addition to the total picture. What was most surprising was Chris's chest. It was unlike any of the other boys in the whole school.
If I had seen it on some fat kid, I would have been less shocked (or aroused), but on the sleek and graceful body of this boy, it was completely out of place. His chest was very fleshy, but not in a muscular way. It jutted out, but not up. Instead, it was more rounded on both sides and blended smoothly into the rest of his body. And perched at the tip of each side were the two most swollen rosebud nipples I had ever seen. I mean, the guys would tease and tweak each other to be cruel and annoying, but Chris looked like his had been pinched about a hundred times too many. Not having had the pleasure of viewing a girl's chest to date, I imagined that that is what it might have looked like right when they were beginning to develop their tits. Taken as a package, these things made Chris appear as a vision of loveliness.
The second he saw me, he reacted in panic, and moved his left arm across his chest to hide his exposed breasts, and his right hand down to his crotch to cover his cock and balls. They fit comfortably in the cup of his palm. It was then that I was able to notice how slender and petite his hands were, and how nicely shaped each nail was, with about a quarter inch of nail exposed on each. Once he recovered from his initial shock, his demeanor turned to one of anger. He glared at me with his large eyes, and his eyebrows, his sleek and shapely eyebrows, turned down and angled at me. He demanded to know why I was in there, and threatened to get me in trouble with the principle if I didn't leave at that moment.
I, though, wasn't hearing a word he said. I was transfixed by his incredible body. I had literally never seen anything like it, and I was curious, and very aroused, and I simply had to touch him to see if it was all real. As I walked toward him, the anger gave way to fear, and he backed up into a corner, telling me, begging me, not to come any closer.
As I got to within five feet of him, though, his demeanor changed again, this time to defiance. He dropped his arms and held them toward his back and at an angle, much the same pose that I'd seen many girls adopt, and then through his chest out, with his nipples pointing directly toward me, and declared that he wasn't afraid of me at all.
For my part, most of his posturings were completely wasted on me. I heard the words, but was oblivious to their intent. Rather, I was watching his body language, which had reminded me first of a scared doe, and then had beckoned me with a very come hither stance. When I got within reach, my arms automatically rose and cupped him underneath his fleshy chest. And then, very gently, my thumbs began to trace circles around his swollen nipples. At this point, any pretense Chris was trying to display failed him, and he absolutely melted in my grasp. His head fell back and his mouth fell open. He brought his hands up and on top of mine, guiding and encouraging them in their work. I marveled at how soft and delicate his fingers were. I stood there massaging him for a minute, when I became acutely aware of the fact that his penis was beginning to lengthen and harden, quickly jutting straight out from his crotch, and his sack, precious as it was before, had contracted dramatically into his pelvis. With his right hand, he grasped me by the thumb, and began tugging my hand downward. I'm no idiot, and knew exactly what he was hoping for. At that point, I had never touched a guys penis before, but had certainly had a lot of fun with my own, and so was well aware of the charge Chris was after. I hesitated at first, and then, absorbing the whole situation, decided that it really wasn't that big a deal, considering what we were already up to, and so a grabbed onto his cock and began rhythmically beating it as I would my own. I realized almost instantly that along with length, Chris's shaft didn't compare with mine girthwise either. In fact I found it difficult getting a good grip on it, and quickly switched to pressing it between two fingers and my thumb, and beating it at a much more rapid pace, and with methodic squeezings to boot. Apparently, the whole thing had quite the affect on Chris, because his breathing became much deeper and sporadic, and then, quite on cue, his entire body tensed, he rose up on his tip-toes, stretched his arms out and back as far as they could go, arching his back in the process, and let out an embarrassingly loud and high pitched squeal. Now I had orgasmed too by this time, but never quite like that. More's the point, I had begun ejaculating with my orgasms, but not a single drop of liquid wheeled up upon the tip of his dick. Nevertheless, after the spasms left his body, he became weak-kneed and nearly lost his balance. When he looked up, there was a warm smile on his face.
I pleaded that I had to go, not feeling quite right in the gut about what had just happened. As I turned to go, Chris grabbed my arm and gave it a tug. Then he pulled me back, and strained to whisper in my ear, inviting me over to his house after school that day, where he promised to do the same thing for me. And then he kissed me. A soft, tender kiss on my cheek, like you'd get from a mother, or, I suppose, a lover, and then, as I moved to go, he led my hand down to his now flaccid penis, so that I could stroke it once more before I departed.
I was in a strange mood all day. The events of that morning were turning in my head. What did the encounter mean? Should I go over to his house this afternoon? What would happen when we were there? I let my imagination run wild, and some of the visions that I had aroused me terribly. When the afternoon bell rang, and I walked to my locker, I found Chris there waiting for me. I felt like the entire school was looking at us, and that each movement on my part, each gesture on his were speaking volumes to everyone around us about what I had done in the locker room. I nervously approached him. He renewed his invitation for an afternoon at his house, and without really thinking, and because I could offer no alternative or excuse, I consented. Once again, I was convinced that anyone within ear shot was reading right through the euphemisms we were using to describe the rendezvous, but in reality, the entire school community was entirely oblivious to some sophomore boy's hot desires for one of his peers.
We walked the mile and a half to Chris's house without talking, but inside I was going over scene after scene. I yet wasn't convinced that I would go along with anything, but when he opened the door and beckoned, I followed him inside. I asked what time he expected his parents home--wow, what a loaded question. He then explained that he didn't live with his parents who were overseas for his father's company and not due back for 9 months, and that he lived with his grandmother, who was probably at the community center, and wouldn't bother us anyway. He gave me a brief tour of the house and then led me straight to his room.
It was unlike any boy's room I had ever seen. Instead of being done in blue or brown stripes, it was done in yellow with landscape patterns on the quilt. And it was clean. Perfectly clean. There were a few wooden boxes on the dresser, a desk with a little lamp and a nice stereo (for those days). He told me to make myself comfortable on the bed, while he used the bathroom and got us some soda. While he was gone, I oriented myself, and decided to find out a little more about my new bosom buddy. You can learn a lot about a person going through their drawers. There was a bottle of pills on the dresser, but I hadn't the faintest idea what Premarin was for, so I ignored them. In one of the wooden boxes was an assortment of necklaces, earrings, bracelets and rings. In the other box was a few pencils with thick lead. They looked like markers, or rather artists' pencils--a black, brown, gray, blue, red and pink one. And a bottle of cologne. When I opened his top drawer, I found the strangest underwear I had ever seen. First of all, the material was much smoother than any pair I have ever owned. Then there was no opening to pee out of. And while some were white, others were light blue, or yellow, or even pink, and many of them had lace around the top. It was at this point that Chris came popping back in the room. Isn't that the way it always works? Right when you're in the middle of doing something you're absolutely not supposed to be doing. He looked at me with a half smile, and I decided that the best defense for the situation was a good offense, and half-jokingly questioned him about the underwear. He happily explained that he didn't need an opening because he always peed sitting down anyway, they were much more comfortable than even the 100% cotton jobs, and he found all white rather boring. Good enough explanation for me. I asked about the pills, just to quell my curiosity, and he explained they were medication for a permanent condition he had and that he had to take them every day.
He invited me to sit on his bed, sat down next to me, and gave me my soda. We drank and talked about school for a while, and then he asked if I'd be more comfortable without my shirt on. My heart began to pound a little faster, and I decided in that instant that I'd go ahead with it, at least for today, and see what happened. I pulled off my shirt, and immediately Chris began running his petite hand over and around my chest and through the hair that was just beginning to grow. When they found their way down to my pants button, they deftly unsnapped it, and then worked the zipper down to the base. I stood up and dropped my pants, while Chris leaned back on his haunches to admire. I ran my thumb around the elastic in my underwear, and he nodded with approval, so I pulled them down as well to expose myself to him for the first time. He got a silly grin on his face, like a five year old gets on Christmas, and then told me to lay down on my back on his bed. I spread my legs, and he got between them on his knees, and started massaging my dick. It felt fantastic, particularly at first. This was much better than doing it myself. I could just lay there, and soak it all in. As I stiffened up, though, I began to protest a bit that his rubbing was hurting, and, being an old pro at this, asked if he had any vaseline available. He said no, but that he did have something else we could use as a lubricant, and quick as a wink lowered his mouth upon my stiff rod. My eyes got like saucers when he did this. This was something entirely new to me. I had heard about a ``blowjob" but never imagined it could be like this. It took me about three seconds to ejaculate, with Chris's mouth still firmly encasing my cock. He bolted up, coughing, and I expected him to spit and sputter my spunk all over his bedsheets, but he dutifully swallowed, then smiled at me. Then frowned and gave me a lecture about warning him, and also working on my stamina. He promised to help with that. It was really the most intense orgasm I'd ever had, and so found myself by default committed to working extensively with him on that project. Then he leaned over me, pressed himself against me, and we spent the next half hour tongue kissing and laying in each others arms.
Over the next few months, I found myself over at Chris's house nearly every day after school, and on most Saturday's as well. I ran into his grandmother occasionally, but most of the time, we had the house to ourselves. It was carte blanche to run around naked and experiment with all sorts of positions and experiences that I had heard boasted and lied about in the locker room. Heck with those guys; I was getting it for real. And also over the next few months, I also began to piece together what was really up with my new best friend. He delighted in rubbing dicks together, and it was a perfect opportunity to compare. And quite clearly, as the year wore on, and I fell deeper into the grip of puberty, my cock continued to visibly lengthen and thicken. Chris's, on the other hand, not only wasn't growing, but was in fact clearly getting smaller over the course of these months. It was something that he apparently took great delight in, and when I questioned him about it, he assured me that it was exactly what he was hoping for. After a few months, my cock next to his looked like a mutated giant next to a shrunken, withered stump. I'd have bet that eight of his wouldn't equal one of mine. I was more than twice his length, and four times his girth.
I had started giving him head, as well, and I could easily take his entire cock, and balls into my mouth, and give his little peanut testicles the greatest tongue massaging he could have hoped for.
Along with the reduction in his genitals, there was also a noticeable increase in the size of his breasts. They now clearly bounced and jiggled when he walked, and the nipples were swollen to the size of half dollars. I enjoyed suckling them, and causing them to become stiff and pointy. Chris's reactions to this were fun to watch, and once I even got him to orgasm just by fiddling with those amazingly sensitive mounds of his. For Christmas, his grandmother, a wealthy lady in her own account, installed a hot tub in the basement, and so over Christmas break, Chris invited me for a relaxing time in the tub. I brought my bathing suit with me, wore it under my clothes, and so was able to go downstairs immediately. Chris said he'd be down after he put on his suit, and in about 5 minutes appeared at the bottom of the stairs wearing the hottest bikini I'd ever seen. I think this is the first time I ever saw him wearing clothes like this, except for his panties, which he wore every day. He tried to bluff that since I knew he had very sensitive nipples, he needed a top to protect them a bit more from the hot water, but, like I said--I was beginning to figure things out, and I was pretty much convinced that it was just because he really liked wearing it. This was confirmed when I scooched over to him, and began massaging his thigh and then his chest, while he moved to pull the top aside to expose his nipples. I attacked them mercilessly, sucking, nibbling, biting and licking, all designed to work him to a frenzy. He pulled his bottoms down for me, and I could feel him get ridged against my body, underneath the water. I had noticed that as time wore on, it had become more and more difficult for me to give Chris an erection, but now, even with the warm water working against me, I was amazed at the ferocity of his hard-on. He pulled my ear to his mouth, tongued it, and then whispered in his sexiest voice for me to fuck his ass. Well, my few months with Chris were always no end of surprises, and this was just one more in a long line. He climbed up onto the lip of the tub, and I stood thigh deep in the water. He swung his smooth, shapely legs over my shoulders, and exposed his puckered ass to my view. I had had the pleasure of tonguing it thoroughly in one of our past encounters, and now he was offering it up to penetration by my dick. I couldn't have been more excited. His little bird was standing at its full ridged length of three and a half inches, and he moved his hand to stroke it while I penetrated his anus. Mere words cannot describe my joy as the head of my cock squeezed through his tightly clenched opening. There was a momentary look of great pain on his part, and I hesitated, but then it subsided, and I continued my slow exploration of his hole. Once I was all the way in, I began a slow, rhythmic pumping that seemed very natural, and as the event went on and friction permitted, I gradually increased the rate. Soon I was pumping furiously and Chris was moaning in time. Suddenly, I spontaneously joined him, and immediately felt myself ejaculating. I had never pulled out of Chris's mouth during blowjobs, and so saw no reason to pull myself out now. Instead, I shot my entire load into his precious ass. He climaxed at about this same time, as I could feel the rhythmic contractions of his ass muscles around the base of my cock. His own spasms helped to drain me dry, and so I pulled out, and laid my softening dong ontop of his. He lay there contentedly, fondling me with one hand, himself with the other, as the load I had just shot slowly flowed out of his crack and onto the floor. A smile of contentment radiated from his face.
We tried this new experiment several times over the next few weeks, and then one afternoon, Chris hit me with a brand new, and potentially more frightening suggestion. He insisted that since we were fucking each other, we really ought to go out on a date together. I told him this sounded like only a bad idea, that that was something guys and girls did together, and if we tried it we'd get the shit kicked out of us. He countered that, firstly dates are for any two people who liked being together, secondly we'd go places where we wouldn't have to worry about running into people who knew us, and thirdly that he'd wear a disguise so that no one would know. I was still hesitant, but he had me wrapped around his finger when it came to fulfilling his desires, and so I reluctantly consented.
So the next afternoon, Friday, when we walked home from school, Chris had me sit in the living room while he went and put on his disguise. He told me to just go watch TV, as this would probably take a while. He then disappeared. I watched and waited for a good hour, occasionally calling to him, and he'd answer that he was making progress and to just be patient. Finally, from the upstairs bathroom, he announced he was ready to make his appearance. He appeared at the top of the stairs, and slowly slinked down. The minute I saw him, my heart began to pound frantically, my crotch began to stiffen, and my tongue swelled up and my throat went dry. He was wearing a dress! A beautiful dress. And he looked beautiful in it. And lipstick! And eyeshadow! And his fingernails! He was an absolute vision, the prettiest thing I had ever seen!
The dress that he wore was black, with spaghetti straps on the shoulders and a plunging neckline. It revealed Chris's breasts in a most alluring fashion. I hadn't noticed how gradually his breasts were becoming full and round, but even with no bra on, this dress was showing off and enhancing nicely what he had worked so hard to develop. The dress tapered down to his thin waist, and then hugged his hips and rear firmly, ending a few inches below his crotch. There was a slit up the side so that he could actually move in this form fitting wonder. He had on black nylon stockings with a seam up the back, and black sandals that showed off his red painted toenails. They had about a 3" heel and a strap that gracefully slipped around his ankle. He wore a gold necklace that hung down and flowed into the cleavage on his chest. Around his wrists were bracelets, on his fingers, sparkling rings. And his nails. Perhaps I hadn't noticed how long and perfectly shapened they had become, but I noticed now. The dark burgundy lacquer that adorned them set them off and drew my eye immediately. And his face, his soft, sensuous, feminine face was every boys' desire. He had on lipstick to match his nailcolor, and it made his lips look big, pouty and kissable. He had outlined his eyes in black and had mascaraed his eyelashes good and long.
When he blinked, they called out to me. He had used a blend of brown and red for his eyeshadow, and it made his eyes, his wonderful eyes look deep, mysterious, and dangerous. He had taken the time to pluck his already thin eyebrows down to a fine line on the sides where they tapered into nothingness, and the hint of blush made his cheekbones look high and strong. He had curled his hair, the long hair which was normally kept slicked back. It now rested in curls on the top of his head and flowing down his neck. And he wore a pair of dangling earrings that nearly fell to his shoulders. The only thing I could ask him was when he pierced his ears. He said just a few minutes ago, and I told him that a thing like that lasts for a long time. He told me he had always wanted to do it, and that this seemed to be the perfect opportunity to do it. He had bought the earrings earlier in the week and was waiting for this excuse to be able to try them.
I asked him if he was sure he wanted to go out like this. He asked me if I was going to be embarrassed to be seen with him, but I quickly assured him that that was not my point. I thought he looked better than even the best looking cheerleader at school, could turn any boy's head, and give 'em a hard on just dreaming of getting close to him. I thought he was the most beautiful and desirable creature on earth. This made him modestly blush and scrap his pointed toe across the floor in a demure manner. No, I told him, my point had been that we ought to stay home and really have some fun. At this a sly smile crossed his lips. He feigned shock and indignation, proclaiming that all us boys ever thought about was sex, sex, sex. Then with a wink, he told me I'd have to earn it first.
Without further discussion, we were off. We had a terrific time on our date. I had just gotten my license, and so we went driving around. At every stop light, Chris got looks, leers, and whistles from any boy who pulled along side. He'd even encourage them by blowing kisses there way, but I knew he was just teasing. We crashed a dance at a cross-town school, and Chris even danced with some of the football players there. I eavesdropped on the conversation some of the indigenous females were having, and found out that they were not at all pleased with the appearance of this new ``slut" who was putting the moves on their boyfriends. I laughed to myself that they had been dumped for a boy in a dress. I almost felt like telling them, but common sense prevailed.
After the dance, we went to see a movie--a romantic one, about relationships and falling in love. Chris snuggled up to me, pulled his legs up on the seat, and leaned his head on my shoulder. I put my arm around him and drew him close. It was a very romantic scene in the seats as well. We finished off with a late night snack at a diner, and then back to Chris's. I had told my parents that I was spending the night, and so I wasn't expected home till morning. So we quietly climbed the stairs so as not to wake his grandmother, and slipped into his room. Once in, it was off with the clothes, though I begged him to leave on his garter, stockings and heels. Then I nibbled on his tits, and fingered his ass. He gave me a fantastic blow-job, and lubed me up well, so that I could smoothly and effortlessly penetrate his bottom. This second time was a lot smoother for me, and a lot less painful for him, and so I ground my pelvis into his cheeks, thrusting as rapidly and deeply as my equipment would allow. Gasps of pleasure escaped his lips as he played with his shriveled penis and pinched his nipples. We came simultaneously, and then melted into each others arms, falling asleep with my arm around him from the back, and my cock, softening but still inserted firmly into his rectum. What a wonderful evening that was.
Over the next two months we had many similar experiences, all enjoyable, but none with the novelty and intensity of that first date. Chris became more and more experienced in makeup, and so looked more and more beautiful each time, but its the image of how he looked that first time that was indelibly etched into my mind. And then, at the end of May, it was over.
My father's job promotion and relocation came through, and we were forced to move half-way across the country. When I told Chris, he wept bitterly. I tried to be strong for him, but he was inconsolable. We pledged our love for each other, and had a few last times of intimacy, but they lacked the youthful exuberance of two people with nothing but time on their hands. And then I was gone. We wrote, of course, but after several months the letters became more staggered, and then ended completely. I am certainly mostly to blame for that. And then, I just lost track of him completely.
That was eight years ago. Then, just recently, out of college and searching for that first real job, I serendipitously landed a position back in my old home city. When I got there, I immediately tried to look Chris up, but to no avail. He wasn't listed in the phonebook, and the school had no records of him past graduation--not even if he attended college anywhere. Then, one night, as I was cruising the adult district, looking for bars that catered to what had become my pet fetish, I came across a dance club that served my version of flesh. And the headliner for the evening was a creature by the name of Chrissy Alexander. Heart pounding, I went in and took a seat against the stage. When she came out, there was little doubt that I had found my bosom buddy. He had matured considerably, and all in a very positive way. His hair was long, down his back, and overflowing in curls. His body curved seductively around full hips and a streamlined waist, and up to what were now a pair of the fullest tits it has been my happy chance to see. His eyes, though, hadn't changed and that's how I knew for sure. They were still beautiful and catlike. He did a seductive dance for the patrons which left me with a raging hard-on, and then finally pulled down his tight panties to reveal what was just the tiniest stump between his legs. It was the smallest, most precious penis I had ever seen on an adult, and I knew I wanted to taste it again. He waved it in front of the faces of the drooling patrons one at a time, and I held my breath as he approached me. He stood on the stage above me, and began his standard siren call, and then stopped, and smiled as he recognized who I was. He swayed on down to my level, leaned over and whispered in my ear. He told me ever so briefly that he was thrilled to see me, and that I should meet him after the show. Then stood up, gave me a great big smile, and then shimmied away. And as he backed up, and danced for all the dirty old men who had come to see a sissy perform for them, despite the years of pills and the gallons of estrogen flowing through that fantastic womanly body of his, I watched his tiny penis grow erect for me. This is going to be one hell of an evening. :)