Rodeo Girl - Sex Stories

Rodeo Girl

... craving to put them on.

As I pulled on her panties, the feeling of the satin material running along my skin was erotic and beautiful in equal measure. How could I forget it? I slipped the camisole over my head and felt it brush against my nipples, sending tingles down my spine. My heart was racing, afraid of what I was finding myself doing and that I would be discovered, but the sensation of the soft panties and the strappy camisole top encasing my soft ivory skin was so amazing that it overwhelmed all of those fears.

Seeing myself in the full length mirror was a revelation. I spun around admiring how it looked and felt. Pandora's box had come in the guise of a laundry basket and there was no going back, new feelings had been unleashed that were so powerful I knew they would prove irresistible. It was a defining moment. It felt so good, so comfortable and so right that I could barely believe it. It was as if the clothes were embracing me and, I have to confess, it felt completely natural and quite sexy too. When I relieved myself that morning, still wearing her things, I had one of the most amazing body shaking orgasms ever, but once I had come, feelings of guilt rapidly took over. I quickly pulled off her things and put them in the laundry and reverted back to being the embarrassed nerdy boy, now with a shameful secret.

The clock could not be turned back. I slowly took it further, spurred on by all sorts of help and guidance from the internet that helped me get ...

... over the guilt and alienation of doing something so taboo. It was not that I just felt sexy, I felt far happier and comfortable in girl's clothes. I was very careful to keep it hidden as I saw that society still struggled with those who were different, and especially those who wanted to change their gender. In many ways I was happy with that as I was in no hurry to be one person or another, I was simply happy that I had this new 'place' I could escape to where I felt so content and good about myself.

By the middle of that summer I was not only dressing completely, but I had let my hair grow and could adopt a page-boy style with some clever use of gels. I had also begun to use make-up and when I looked in the mirror a sweet and sassy girl looked back at me. I created new social accounts and began posting pictures on the internet, some were even a little racy, and before I knew it I had a thousand followers. I was convinced that my mother must know about my experimentation, but she gave nothing away. There were certain little things she said or commented on that were otherwise inexplicable, but nothing that indicated she had a problem with me. It was a comforting and accepting form of denial.

Of course moms see everything in their children and, to be honest, mine would have been quite a dreadful mom not to have noticed the way I had changed or found signs of some of my less than perfect clear-ups. She was most definitely not a dreadful mom, so she must have known. We carried ...