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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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High School Friends
By Anonymous (address withheld)
***
The following is a true story. Two teenage guys dress
up in one of their sister's clothes and one thing leads
to another. (mm-teens, youths, cd, 1st-gay-expr, anal)
***
I won't say what age I was, but let's say it was around
the junior high/high school range. My friend John lived
about half a mile down the road from my house with his
father, who was divorced. John's sister had moved away
to college a few months after my family had moved into
town from Seattle.
There was nothing unusual in the friendship, and
neither of us had ever thought much about anything
other than what boys always think about; girls. We'd
hang out by the entrance to school and watch the girls
coming in, just knocked out by them. Neither of us were
jocks, or sports types, so we didn't have much chance
to do anything about it, of course. We were both thin
for our age, and kept to ourselves a lot. Neither of us
had as much as touched a girl, though not for any lack
of trying or interest.
John's father worked clear across town, and often
wouldn't get back home until 8 or 9 in the evening.
Sometimes I'd hang out at John's until about then,
watching TV, reading, horsing around. The house had a
basement, which was a combination rec room/storage
room, not much in it besides a few chairs, a couch, and
a lot of boxes. When John's sister had gone off to
college, most of her stuff had been stored down here so
John's father could convert part of her room into a
workroom. Sometimes we went down to the basement to
hang out, since it was cooler there during the summer,
and private.
**
One afternoon, we were hanging out down in the basement
and I started poking around some of the boxes. I came
across the boxes in which his sister's stuff had been
stored, and much to my delight, came out with a bra. It
wasn't fancy, or lace, just a plain white bra, but it
was a kick to know that she'd worn it. I dangled it in
front of John, to say look what I found. "Look
familiar?" I said, and held it up against my chest, my
shirt on.
He laughed and said to give it to him. I tossed it
across, and he did the same, holding the bra cups
against his shirt and throwing his chest out in an
exaggerated way. It was funny, and we didn't think too
much about it. He asked me where I'd found it, and I
showed him. We dug through it, coming up with armfuls
of her old clothes, stuff she probably couldn't or
didn't wear anymore, but which she hadn't had time to
give or throw away. By then it was getting late, and I
headed home.
**
The next day, I came over again, and the routine was
pretty much the same: TV, reading comics, hanging out.
We ended up in the basement again after a while, and I
again started poking around in the box of his sister's
clothes. I pulled out the same bra again, and looked at
it more closely. It was about my size, and I mentioned
it to John. "Put it on," he said. "No way," I said.
"What're you, chicken?" he said. "It's not a big deal."
"If it's not a big deal, then you do it," I said. He
shrugged and got up, going to the box. He dug around
until he came up with another bra, a little nicer than
the one I was holding: pink lace and pink satin. He
held it up and then slipped his arms through the
straps, holding it against his chest, over his shirt.
He tried to reach around back to close it, but
couldn't, so he stood there with the back trailing off.
"See? No big deal."
I did the same, but it was tighter because I was a
little bigger, and I also had my shirt on. "Go ahead,"
John said, and I took off my shirt, putting the bra on
over my own skin. He did the same. We couldn't figure
out how to get it on and close it, so first he closed
the one I was wearing, and I closed his. It felt...
funny. Tight, but I found I liked the tightness of it.
It smelled of his sister's perfume.
Which is as far as it got that day. We joked around a
lot, looked at each other and in the mirror, and after
a while, I went home. The next day, when I came over,
it was as if a decision had already been made, even
though it had never been discussed. "Let's do it," John
said. He rummaged through the boxes and pulled out the
same bra, now with a slip, plaid skirt, and blouse. "I
don't know if this is a good idea," I said. "It's
okay," he said, "I tried it last night after you left,
before my dad got home. It's fun."
In a minute, he had pulled off his shirt and yanked off
his jeans and was pulling the clothes on, though he
kept on his own shorts. There was nothing sexy about
it, he was just yanking them on. I hesitated for a
moment, then decided what the hell, and shucked my own
Levis and shirt, though also keeping my shorts on.
While he got into the clothes, I rummaged around in the
box until I came up with the plain bra, a pleated,
checked skirt, a bright green blouse, and a slip. It
all went on fairly quickly, and we turned to look at
each other. It was almost funny; neither knew much
about dressing, neither of us had made any real attempt
at femininity, we were just wearing his sister's
clothes, as prosaic and straightforward as that.
We both admitted that it felt funny, but it also felt
good, in a strange kind of way. We really didn't know
what else to do now that we'd gotten this far, and
lapsed back into our usual routine of hanging out a
little, and occasionally trying on something else from
one of the boxes. When we got down to the layer with
the lingerie and panties, we both hesitated. John
picked up a pair of light green panties. "You first," I
said.
"Okay," he said, and turned away from me, yanking off
his shorts and stepping into the panties. I did the
same, both of us turning away even though we'd both
seen each other naked in gym class. I was hard by now,
and he was the same, and we felt funny about letting
each other see that. Neither of us was terribly well
endowed; we couldn't have been more than five inches
hard.
I pulled on a pair of plain white panties, which
matched the bra and slip. They felt snug and soft, and
pulled me tight. I could see John pushing down at his
crotch to try and keep his erection down, without much
success. "You think this is what girls feel like?" he
asked. "I guess," I said.
"Feels good," he said, again pushing down at his
erection, but the more he tried to make it go away, the
harder it got. I was in much the same situation. After
a minute, the temptation got to be too much, and since
he was already touching it, he started rubbing it
through the material. We didn't talk, didn't say
anything at all during this. I did the same. After just
a couple of minutes, he gasped, and came. I did the
same, in my panties.
We were both embarrassed and excited. The first thing
we did was yank off the panties and dump them into the
basement washing machine, where John said he'd take
care of them later. We didn't get back into our regular
clothes, though; only dug out fresh pairs of panties
from the boxes.
We talked about it for a minute, how good it felt,
catching occasional glimpses of each other in the
mirror. Finally, he said, "Wait," and dashed upstairs.
He came back a minute later with some of the magazines
his father had bought and stashed in a dresser drawer.
We flipped through the pages, still dressed in his
sister's clothes, looking at the women and men fucking.
It was a strange situation to be dressed in a girl's
clothes and looking at the pictures from that
perspective. As if it was us.
John was fascinated by one picture of a couple fucking
doggy style. The picture wasn't very good, and we
couldn't figure out how they were doing it. "Get down,"
he said. "What?" I said. "Look, you're dressed like a
girl, let's see. It's just pretend."
I hesitated, then finally agreed. By this time I was so
excited that my resistance was down. I got down on all
fours on the basement floor, my skirt hanging down
around my knees. Holding the magazine, he got behind
me, between my knees, wearing his own skirt. He kept
shifting forward until his crotch bumped up against my
butt. Even through two pairs of skirts, slips and
panties, I could feel his hardness. I shifted forward a
little. "Keep still," he said, and moved forward again,
pushing against me. He bumped back and forth a few
times, looking at the magazine, both of us still
completely clothed.
"I can't feel anything," he said, disappointed. Then he
reached down and lifted my skirt up over my hips, the
slip coming with it, and leaned in again, grinding
against me. With one set of skirt/slip out of the way,
I could feel the shape of him more clearly through his
own clothes and my panties. He put down the magazine
and started bumping against me rhythmically.
As if that weren't enough, between bumps he lifted the
front of the skirt and draped it over my back. Now we
were just separated by the two sets of panties. His
cock was sticking hard and straight out and bumping
straight into my butt through our panties. He must have
bumped it wrong at least once, because he shifted and
now his panty covered cock slipped into the crack of my
ass, through my own panties, and now rode up and down
along the crack.
By now we were both breathing hard. I could feel his
panties sliding down off his cock with each push
forward, until finally it was free and sliding along my
own panties, sometimes dipping below and slipping
between my legs. When it did, I brought my legs
together to give him something to shove into. The
contact between my bare legs and his bare cock seemed
to excite him even further. "Ahhh," is all he said.
After a while, he developed a rhythm, between my legs,
then up along my ass, then back again. He was gripping
my hips to hold them still while he stroked. My eyes
were closed, savoring the sensation, particularly when
he slid between my legs, because then it was skin on
skin. Gradually I became aware that he was sliding the
panties slowly down my hips until they came off and
dropped down to my knees. His cock now rode along my
bare ass, and I could hear him sigh with pleasure. My
ass was getting drenched with pre-cum, making it easier
for his cock to slide along it.
On one stroke, he pulled back further than usual, and I
felt his cock bump against my asshole. I jumped
slightly. "Hey!" I said.
"Sorry," he said and went back to what he was doing...
only to bump my asshole again a minute later.
"Cut it out!" I said. "That's enough."
"It's okay," he said, pointing to the picture. "Look,
they're doing it that way."
I said I didn't want to do that.
"C'mon," he said, "if you let me do you, I'll let you
do me. Okay?"
I thought about it, his cock still sliding around
between my legs and along my ass, and it was so hot, so
exciting, that finally I nodded without saying
anything. He backed up and again bumped his cock
against my asshole, which was already slick with his
prec-um. He tried twice to find the right angle, and
bounced off. He grabbed me again through the skirt,
holding onto my hips as he again moved forward.
His cock found my asshole, and moved around a little,
trying to find the right angle. After a minute he found
it, and he pushed slowly, easing in a little. It hurt,
but not too bad, and I closed my eyes, trying to relax.
He shoved a little more, and with a sudden pop he was
inside me. One more slow push and he was all the way
in. The feeling was intense, amazing. I tried to look
back between my legs but the front of my skirt hung
down, cutting off the view.
He pulled back, and pushed in again, slowly at first,
then faster. I looked down to the magazine open beside
me, of the woman being fucked by a man behind her, and
imagined myself to be her, dressed in my skirt and
blouse and bra. By now John was pounding hard against
me, fucking me fast and hard. The only sounds in the
basement were our gasps and the sound of our skin
slapping.
He shoved it in harder and deeper into me with every
thrust, holding onto my hips to pull me back hard.
Suddenly he got even harder inside me, and straighter,
and seemed to fill me even more as he cried out and I
felt something warm shoot out of him into the depths of
my ass. He shoved it all the way in and held it there
as he spasmed, gasping and shoving.
After a few moments, he pulled out with a wet sound and
sat back on his feet. "Wow," was all he could say. "You
okay?"
"Yeah," I said, my ass sore but not too bad. He was
still breathing hard.
Then it was my turn. He got on his hands and knees, ass
facing me, skirt raised and his panties down around his
knees. I got behind him and stroked myself until I had
built up a good deal of pre-cum, then positioned myself
at his ass. I pushed forward. At first my cock bent but
didn't go in. Twice more it didn't go in, and I was
getting hot and frustrated when suddenly I found the
right angle, and with a sudden pop it slipped into his
ass.
Inexperienced, eager to get going, I started stroking
even before I was halfway inside, though each thrust
took me deeper inside until I was completely buried in
his ass. I grabbed his hips and rode back and forth,
sawing into his ass, my eyes half-closed so that it
looked as if I were ass-fucking a girl. And with his
long hair, and the skirt, it could easily have been a
girl. With that thought, I suddenly erupted in his ass,
driving in hard as I came deep inside him.
Being young back then, we did it twice more that
afternoon when we finally decided to quit, being sore
and afraid of being caught as it got later. After that,
we met nearly every day to dress up and fuck in his
basement, always in his sister's clothes.
FIN
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 58