Juera_(1)

My name is Keven Bardot and, yes, I am a Sissy! When I was a teen I put on my mom’s panties and some of her lipstick when she was out. I had longish blonde hair and I ruffled it up – kind of teased it up – and when I looked in her dresser mirror, I almost ejaculated. Because what I saw looking back at me was not a skinny excuse for a male. What I saw was an extremely sexy looking girlie-girl – and it was me! I went to mom’s closet and picked out a pair of her high heels, stepped into them, and walked to the full length mirror in the hallway. When I saw myself in the full length – a woman with a hard on – then I did cum. I was immediately ashamed, and couldn’t wipe the red lipstick off my mouth fast enough.

That was the first time I stepped over the line. But definitely not the last. I had always been hypersexual; I used to get a hard on thinking about this one girl in my class. I imagined her naked and I was chasing her and whipping her. I should note that I was not like most of the guys of my age, in that I was very much a born sissy. I loathed any sort of athletic sports, for example, and I was afraid of my peers because I had no real physical strength, was uncoordinated, and could not fight. I was bright enough, however, to understand that being a sissy in the world in which I found myself, was completely unacceptable. I had a real sense of shame and embarrassment. So I went to great lengths to fake it; I didn’t play with girls, for example, and I avoided situations that would put myself in the spotlight.

Being a weakling, I learned to be a good manipulator. I managed to make it through my youth by keeping a low profile. So when I began masturbating several times a day, I figured I was normal enough. After all, I was extremely attracted by the sight of the naked women in the sex magazines that I used as a visual aid, so I assumed that I must be normal.

I had heard about queers. Everybody I knew hated queers. The last thing anyone in my circle wanted was to be thought of as a queer! There were queers in San Francisco, some of whom dressed and behaved like women. I was told that the queers had bars and clubs where they hung out. These were revolting people to the people I knew.. So when I found myself in front of that full length mirror, wearing my mother’s high heels, panties and lipstick, I was revolted with myself.

It was around that time that my cousin and I were taking a shortcut through the woods. As we rounded a bend in the path we came upon a guy of around our own age, sitting on a large boulder, completely naked. We walked on in stunned silence until we heard him call out: “Do you want a blowjob?”

I was enraged. This was an affront to my maleness. I told my cousin that we should go back and give this nymph a beating. We ran back to the boulder but the nymph had disappeared. My cousin and I resumed our journey, speaking in tones of outrage as to what we would do if we ever saw that “faggot” again.

A few days later I went back to the boulder by myself, hoping to find the nymph – not to beat him – but to join him. To do what, I didn’t know. Perhaps just to frolic naked with him, feeling the warm spring breezes on our beautiful young bodies, or maybe to sit naked and provocative next to him, both of us soliciting real men as they passed by. I went back several times, hoping to see him, but I never saw him again.

My relationship with the opposite sex had always been strained. Now that I was full of sexual desire, I imagined various girls of my acquaintance, naked with me. In reality these same girls left me tongue tied and red from embarrassment. Many guys of my age had matured to where they had begun to look and act like actual men. I was small and skinny and had no body hair to speak of other than a few sparse, very blonde hairs on my pubis. When I entered the navy at the age of 18, I still could have easily passed as much younger.

I had sex with another person for the first time when I was 18. I was in the navy and stationed in California. I still had absolutely no confidence around girls, but I was always horny. I don’t know why I did it, but a few days after arriving at the base, I went walking through the sweltering hot city late at night.