Real sissy stories
Very young, I knew I was attracted to boys, Real sissy stories while wanting to remain a boy myself. So I continued in this direction, with an intense practice of sports and letting my hair grow all over my body, (not from a Southern family for nothing.), but this ambivalence settled and was gradually entrenched in me. Maintaining my male body of which I was very proud, but female sexual desires of men…. Real males who wanted to own a real female, which I wasn’t, but wanted to be.
Heredity had also endowed me with a very big sex, but that only bandaged very rarely, as if it was only used for its initial function, that of pissing, and not the rest, my masturbations were reduced to frantically caressing the skin of my balls, like a girl caresses her vaginal lips, looking for an orifice that did not exist in me at the time.
Wise until I was 19, except for a few handjobs or blowjobs, which did not stop me from surfing the Internet, looking for ” gay “sites of” Trans ” and other, where I was able to meet my first man and finally have my first sexual relationship.
The only experience I had with a girl had rather destabilized me. I did not like her female body, and if her pussy had attracted me, it was not because I wanted to penetrate her, but because I was fascinated by this organ, able to accommodate a male sex and to notice the intense pleasure that it took away from it.
To return to my first partner, he was hyper virile, straight with a bi tendency anyway, dominant with a sex of more than consequent size. After having deflowered all my orifices, and that his desire was finally satisfied several times, we had a long dialogue. He liked the male body, but did not feel ” gay ” anyway. No way for him to take care of a guy’s cock, only his orifices interested him, and that he would have too much desire to fuck a guy with a real pussy between the thighs…
I continued my life as a young gay, very masculine in my life, both physically and daily, turning into a real female only when I “slept” with a real guy. As I experienced it, my tastes turned to straight, hyper-virile, older than me, who treated me like a woman. True passive homosexuals have often been considered to have a much more unbridled sexuality than wives … often too stuck for their needs.
I kept, no doubt hidden in the back of my mind, this reflection of my first partner and little by little, I carried out a maximum of research on transsexuality. It was not easy, because almost with every search, I found vaginoplasty in all its forms, but accompanied by hormonal treatment so that a man could become totally woman, which was absolutely not my wish. I wanted to stay a dude but have a real pussy… !!!
Keep my masculine and virile body in which I felt very good, but get rid of my cock that cluttered me, to turn it into a real vagina, second orifice to allow me to welcome in me that powerful member that I venerated so much. Not easy to admit for the medical, psy, endocrine or other body, for which, even if transsexuality became common, the possibility of a man, with a man’s body and wishing to preserve it, was incompatible with this need. Always this millennial concept of Man or woman and nothing in between. It could only be one or the other… !!!
It was either a man with hair and a dick, and if he wanted to become a woman, it was only hairless, with breasts and feminine forms. Yet I knew it existed, I had seen real movies, discreet reports and had enough dialogue on a few forums about it.
I got along badly with my parents, very cold contacts, but I loved my older brother. Our grandparents, very close to us, had died far too early, in a fateful accident. Extremely wealthy, they had put us, both of us, free from any financial dependence on our mother, bequeathing us the maximum possible reserve quota, which was already more than important, adding specific clauses that bound her, preventing her from the slightest misappropriation of inheritance.
All this to tell you that I was materially free to lead my life at my leisure, having a fortune more than considerable for my age, but which did not rise to my head.
I was becoming more and more determined in my idea of gender change, but not identity, and the proposed path seemed more than binding to me, to be taken care of by our National Health Insurance…. Except … I didn’t need it… !!!
After a few months of effort and research, I was able to find what I was looking for in a European country that did not impose such severe constraints. At least, no shoot to female hormones and the laying of “breasts” beforehand, requiring only the necessary psychiatric advice and agreement before any intervention of this importance, emasculation and vaginoplasty, whether my body remains male or becomes female… moreover, a direct payment of the fee from me, without the need to resort to a state health agency, made things easier, subject however to full medical agreement.
My reasoning was simple … I did not like the woman’s body, so, I did not want to have one, but I revered the man’s body, its powerful and possessor member and I was determined to know the real female orgasm, with a real vagina.
The journey was long and tumultuous, but after several months of effort and stubbornness, I managed to get what I wanted. Remain a man, but with a real pussy between the thighs. Fortunately, thanks to the rather exceptional length of my penis, the retro plastie allowed me to endow me with a deep orifice, with pretty vaginal lips, a clit a little bigger than that of a “normal woman” and even pose of an artificial hymen.
Deprived of natural hormones, I would have to undergo a lifetime testosterone treatment to maintain my masculine appearance.
Delighted with the result, after receiving the approval of the surgeon for the upcoming sex, I found my brother in our house by the sea. Although he had not fully approved my approach, he had understood it and encouraged me on this long journey.
After a day strolling on the beach, having lunch together at the restaurant and doing some shopping, we went home. I began to cook our meal, but I felt Matthew hesitant, left, uncomfortable, as if he wanted to ask me something and he did not dare. A little later in the evening, enjoying our tea, I had understood what Matthew was waiting for. He wanted to see and know.
“Tell me my dear Big Brother, you want to know what it gave, right ? Admit »
“Yes, Marc, but I’m so embarrassed… I don’t dare ask you… »
“We’re brothers, I love you, so … that’s normal »
“May I see ? To touch too ? »
I immediately lowered my shorts and my underpants to show him what was now my sex, that vagina that I had long awaited, stroking him, spreading his lips, masturbating like a woman would. I had closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I saw a huge bump in my brother’s pantacourt. He was blindfolded like a sick man. He approached his hand to my slit, to touch it, to caress it in a much sexual way than just curiosity.
“But it’s beautiful … a real pussy … it drives me crazy… »
He approached me, his lips joined mine, while he was getting rid of his clothes to show off his body of hyper manly, muscular and hairy male to wish. His huge member replaced his lips to shove it into my mouth as far as he could while kneading my pussy…
I finally realized that this desire was anchored in the depths of me without really realizing it … to have a pussy, a hymen, to offer it to my beloved brother, that he can deflor it….