If you are underage, or if stories about sexual awakening bother you, please stop reading. I am only trying to honestly portray what happened to me. The conversations are probably not accurate quotes, but more the gist of what I remember being said.
The Early Origins of Jamie's Transformation. Chapter 4
After Robert and I began kissing, we did it any time we had the chance. We'd be sitting in my bedroom talking about some TV show we'd seen and my mom would say she was going next door for a few minutes and, boom! We'd be kissing until we heard her return. We didn't really talk about it at times like that. We knew we were alone and as soon as we did, we'd look at each other and he'd pull me to him. I never resisted for a second.
Why would I? I loved the feeling.
I don't remember everything. It was very long ago. I just remember that, at the time, I wanted to kiss whenever possible. And I remember many times just laying on my bed alone daydreaming about being kissed. I probably touched myself when I did. I didn't know all that much about sex except for the questions my mom had answered for me about the mechanics of reproduction. But homosexuality at that time was socially quite deep in the closet still. My mom had talked about men who liked men but it seemed very abstract. I didn't associate what we were doing with any word or label like "gay" or "homosexual." I just knew we were friends and we were kissing.
I knew it was not something to tell others about. It was private. It was between the two of us. Why would I tell anyone else? I wasn't necessarily ashamed of wanting to be kissed by him, any more than I was ashamed of my desires to dress as a girl from time to time. It was just something private. Not wrong; just personal.
I don't know what I thought about how Robert behaved when we kissed. The fact that he would put his legs around me and push against me while we kissed wan't something I remember thinking much about. But I was aware that doing that made him feel good, and I liked that he was feeling good being with me, so I didn't ask why he did it.
Then, one day, in the middle of a make-out session between us, as he was humping me, he stopped. He said he didn't want to "jizz in his pants." I had no idea what he meant.
He explained that when we kissed, it made his penis stiff and that's why he rubbed against me. "But then I jizz in my pants and it feels weird to have the stuff all over me in there."
I told him I didn't know what he meant. "You never jizzed?"
I told him again I didn't know what it meant.
He unzipped his pants and pulled out his erection. I was shocked. Not shocked that he was showing me his penis, but shocked at the size of it. He was 13 and already in puberty. I was 10 and nowhere near it. Compared to mine, his penis looked enormous. Not having a dad or a brother, I had never seen another penis but my own. I stared.
He lay there next to me stroking it and explaining what happens when he "jacked off." All of it was new to me. I had touched myself because it felt good. But I'd never heard about jacking off, or about orgasm. My mother had talked about "sperm" but, like so much when you're a kid, it was an abstract thing. I didn't know the physical reality or how it might relate to me."
He told me how good it felt to climax. Told me that he masturbated pretty much every day at least once. And he told me that kissing girls always got him hard and made him want to "shoot his load." He also said that kissing me made him so hard he couldn't help humping me until he shot. "I just lose control totally when we make out."
That made me excited. Happy. I loved the idea that kissing me made him "lose control." It seemed like a wonderful thing. I made him excited the way a girl did. So much went through me as I lay there listening to him talk, watching him stroke his hard penisÑa huge one, in my eyes. The thrill of seeing him, the thrill of hearing him say I made him as excited as being with a girl did. It fed the need in me to feel what a girl feels. To know what its like to be feminine. He'd already said I was "pretty," now he was saying I made him lose control.
We started kissing again as he continued to stroke himself. He moaned and writhed against me. Everything made me more and more excited as well.
Then he stopped again and said, "do you want to feel how hard I am?"
I said yes, and he took my hand and pulled it down to his shaft. That day, as we lay on his bed kissing, I wrapped my hand around a thick, hard cock for the first time. It felt amazing. It felt huge and warm and alive. And as my small hand gripped his thickness, he groaned out loud and said "YES."
His tongue pushed back into my mouth harder than it ever had and he groaned again, into my mouthÑwhich thrilled me. And at that second, he climaxed. His hand closed over mine so I would not let go and he began unloading his cum all over my hand and the bedcover. I heard him whisper "fuck." And then push his tongue into me again.
My heart pounded so hard. Like it was going to break right out of my chest. I was aware of his cock pulsing in my hand. What a feeling! He was panting like an animal. Then he went still.
We lay there for a long time. Not kissing. Not moving. Just his hand over my hand and my hand around his hard, thick penis. It seemed like a long time.
Then, he looked at me. "I wish you were a girl for real."
I gulped. "Why?" "Because I like how you look and I like how you feel and how you kissÉ everything. If you were a girl, I could make you my girlfriend and tell everybody how wild I get when I'm with you."
His words took my breath away.
"Is that weird?" He asked.
"No, it's nice. IÉ" I wanted to tell him how much I wanted to be a girl for real; to tell him everything, but I was afraid to. Nobody else knew other than my mom, my aunt and my cousin. But I suddenly pictured myself dressed the way I sometimes dressed and having him tell me I was pretty and kissing me while I was a girl. I wanted those feelings.
But I told myself if he saw me as a girl, he'd probably laugh and say it was stupid. I don't know why I felt that. I'd only ever been encouraged by my family. When I was a girl with them, they told me I was pretty. They told me I was cute and sweet and Jenny even talked about how boys would want to be with me.
And now one did. A boy was telling me he wanted me to be his girl, whille I held his warm penis in my hand. But I couldn't tell him what I felt. We got up and he cleaned up the mess he'd made. As he ran to get a washcloth, I looked down at the puddle of sperm, which had mostly soaked into the bedcover. But one glob of cum still had some shape to it. It was fascinating.
His cum was all over my hand and I became aware of the stickiness. I sniffed it. It didn't smell like anything I'd ever smelled.
He returned and wiped up the puddle and wiped off my hand and fingers. He kissed me again and again as he was doing it. Then he smiled and looked into my eyes. "You gave me a hand job."
"I did? Is that what it is?"
"Yes. Nobody ever gave me a handjob. Other girls wouldn't touch me there, but you did."
"It felt good," I told him.
"You are what I want in a girlfriend," He said. "Can we just have it that when we are together by ourselves you are my girlfriend? Nobody has to know but it would be so fun."
He had no idea how he was thrilling me. I said, "Its ok with me, if you want me to I will."
"I want you to," He said. "We can do everything a boy and girl would do."
My stomach did a double flip. "I don't know all of what a girl would do with a boy, but I'll try." I had to go home, his mother would be home soon. But I didn't want to leave. I wanted to kiss some more.
He said he would teach me what girls do, as he walked me out. "Did you ever hear of blow jobs?"
"No."
"Its something girls like to do with boys."
"Then I want to do it," I told him as we kissed one last time before left.
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