My mum and I lived on the outskirts of a small Scottish village. John and his mother Beth were our neighbors, and he and I were best friends from an early age, sharing everything as we grew up. At Primary School and then Senior Secondary School, we were an inseparable pair, supporting each other through the good and bad times. This idyll came to an end when we had just turned sixteen. He and his mom moved away from the area to go look after a sick relative.

The house was quickly re-occupied and Michelle, Irene, Stan and their mum, Ruby became our new neighbors. Stan and I became casual friends but didn’t regularly hang out as we had few interests in common. He was the sporty type, into football and other physical games while I was a book nerd. Out of school, Stan spent his time playing games with his mates. 

While John and I were together, I never really noticed how different we were from other boys in the area. We weren’t macho, we were bookish and studious, and to be honest effeminate. This wasn’t a problem while we supported each other but became a big issue once I was on my own. I was ostracised and bullied for being a sissy. I had no friends and concentrated only on my studies. This approach didn't stop the hassle but did make it bearable.

Mum was concerned about my solitary life and discussed it with Ruby. They agreed that I must have friends and decided to encourage Michelle, Irene and I to become buddies. This approach made sense as we had similar academic interests but was courageous for the time. These were still the dark ages when girls and boys were kept strictly apart while growing up, allowed to be together only under the supervision of a parent or a chaperone. If boys and girls, especially non-siblings, were spotted together without an accompanying adult, the ‘moral guardians’ and the myriad of other busybodies of the time soon stirred up trouble and created severe problems for the parents.

Michelle and Irene were unsure and apprehensive when we were first left together at Ruby’s home. However, the tensions eased as we began to chat and play together. They were happy with the new dynamics that an extra person, even a boy, brought to their pastimes. I was amazed at how at ease I was with them, I could relate to the girls better than to any boy. I liked their attitude, enthusiasm, empathy, and willingness to share their mischievous fun. We steadily became good pals. Mum and Ruby were delighted, but Stan didn't approve. “You’re a sissy.” Nevertheless, he never ratted me out to his chums.

Michelle, Irene and I regularly played and studied together in Ruby’s home or my own. On occasion, they’d even use me as their mannequin or model to try out combinations of clothes or new hair or makeup styles. I was surprised at how at ease that I was with this, but then I was just happy to please my friends.  

Our partnership worked well during cold dark times of winter, but in early spring when the sun was shining and everything starting to come to life, I began to feel guilty that Michelle and Irene were spending their time indoors with me while they should've been outside in the fresh air. I tried to encourage the girls, but they always said, “You’re our friend, we won’t leave you in here on your own.” I looked at them dumbfounded. This reaction was my first experience of feminine solidarity, no way would boys have been so considerate.

I talked to Mum and Ruby about my concerns.

“This is a pickle. You can’t play outside with the girls; it’s not allowed. But, from what you’ve said, the girls won’t go outdoors without you.”

Mum pipped up. “I have a suggestion. I’ve noticed that you are content with being a mannequin for the girls. What if you were to dress up as a girl for real? Then, you could be out of doors together.”

I was shocked that my mum could suggest such a thing, but maybe she already knew what even I didn’t yet suspect.

"No way, I can't go outside dressed as a girl. What if I'm spotted and caught?

“The garden is big and the street far enough away that passers-by should just see three girls together. Give it a try, just for Michelle and Irene.”

“Okay, let’s do it .”

Ruby ushered Michelle and Irene out of the house and told them to go and play on the lawn. I was taken through to their bedroom, undressed and then clad in mysterious female wear, finished off with a floral blouse and blue skirt that zipped and buttoned at the back. I admit that the clothes made me look girly, but they also unnerved me. The above-the-knee skirt left me feeling quite exposed.

Mum and Ruby led me out to the lawn. “Girl’s, this is Andrea, your new playmate. Enjoy the afternoon.

Irene and Michelle stood there goggle-eyed, before rushing over shrieking and giggling. They hugged me tightly. “We can’t believe that you’re doing this for us, thank you, we girls are going to have so much fun together.” 

We played outside for the whole afternoon, many new games for me to learn. Of course, I soon experienced the revealing pitfalls of a skirt. I was forever flashing my knickers. Added to this, the two minxes took great delight in tricking me into revealing all. "We can see your panties; we can see your panties."

I blushed every time that they caught me out but now appreciated how distressing it was for any girl who by misstep or gust of wind revealed more than she ought, always likely to happen when there were leering boys around. To be fair, Michelle and Irene soon began teaching me how to preserve my modesty.

“You’re taking a big risk for us. We’ll take care of you.”

From then, I spent most weekends and school holidays as a girl. The experience wasn’t all fun and play. Michelle and Irene regularly helped their mum around the house, so I offered to do chores as well, both to pay my dues and learn more about the demands of girlhood. Ruby and Mum, who now had the bonus of a daughter, were over the moon with this and happily trained me to clean, cook, wash, iron and sew. I now appreciated how hard girls worked behind the scenes, how much in the home depended on them. Although I was usually exhausted after a day of chores, I did enjoy doing them and found my forte in cooking and baking.

Cajoled by Michelle and Irene, I eventually ventured out of the garden as a girl and took walks with them through the village, even visiting some of their friends in their homes. They introduced me as their visiting cousin. Most of the time things went well, although Michelle and Irene occasionally had to give me a prod when getting close to showing more than a decent girl should.

Soon, I also went shopping in the nearby town with the girls. At first, I was embarrassed going into ladies’ stores where I found myself overwhelmed by femininity. The mischievous pair took pleasure in finding loads of skimpy and sassy clothes for me to examine. They wouldn’t wear these things themselves; they just wanted to make me squirm. I quickly realized that it was all in good fun and in time became almost at ease looking through female wear and importantly, trying them on in that scary place, the changing room. What is it with girl’s and women’s wear? Clothes of supposedly the same size can be perfect, throttle you or hang like a tent if they come from different manufacturers, so you must check the fit of every item while in the shop. 

Meanwhile, Stan settled into our Secondary School. His sports prowess was recognized immediately, and soon he was taking part in all the games on offer, often representing the school in tournaments. However, Stan struggled with his academic studies. It wasn't his fault, he was a bright kid but needed to be enthused and challenged. The school was old-fashioned, and most subjects were taught by rote and recital, so Stan soon became bored and disinterested. Mathematics and the sciences were my things. I enjoyed them despite the moribund teaching, so despite our fractious relationship, I was able to help Stan by pairing up with him on these subjects.

Michelle and Irene were highly talented and became more and more engrossed in their academic studies, school activities and friends. As a result, they spent less and less time at home, and I became somewhat of their surrogate with Ruby, spending time with her, doing the chores the girls used to do and generally helping around the home. I was now happy as a girl and had many great mother-daughter days with Ruby and my mom.

Things were to change dramatically when Stan was injured while playing rugby and had to give up most of his sporting activities. This situation hit him very severely. To make things worse, his supposed friends started blanking him. The sporty gang no longer wanted to have him around. I tried to help by encouraging him to make friends with the science crowd, but it's difficult to break into a group that has been mates for years.

A sport that Stan could still enjoy was fishing. He now threw himself into it with great enthusiasm, even entering local tournaments. One day I met Stan, fishing gear in hand, heading out for the day. He sounded cheerful, but I sensed that something was wrong. We waved goodbye, and I continued to Ruby's house for a mother-daughter day with her. We did all our chores and pottered in the garden, but I couldn't get Stan out of my mind. Was he okay? I didn't explain to Ruby, I just said, "I noticed that Stan didn't have any food with him when he went away this morning. He'll starve if he's out there all day, I'll take some to him."

"That would be good; I'll make fresh tea and sandwiches while you get changed."

"It's okay; I'm comfy, I'll go as I am. If I meet any boys, they can enjoy some eye candy.”

“Now, now, that’s not ladylike, but I know what you mean, it’s nice to be appreciated.”

I set off to the site where Stan usually fished but found no signs of him. I was looking around when I heard crying. Stan was sobbing his eyes out.

"I'm all alone. Nobody likes me or wants to be my friend."

“That’s not true Stan, come here." I sat beside him and hugged him but not as a boy bearhugs another boy but like a mother embracing her child. He didn't recoil, rather he rested his head on my bosom and lay in a tight embrace against me. As I ruffled his hair, he relaxed and went to sleep. We lay there together until the middle of the afternoon when I had to rouse him to go home.

This bleary-eyed boy looked up between my breasts and suddenly realized where he was and what he was doing; cuddling Andrea. He looked scared as he jumped up. “You won’t tell anyone about this, will you?”

"Of course not. You needed comfort, and I provided it. No-one else has the right or need to know. We’d better set off home, or our mums will be frantic.”

We left the sandwiches for the birds, poured out the tea and headed off down to the village. Stan tried to shake me off when I took his hand.

"Don't do that; if we're hand in hand, people will think I'm your girlfriend. It'll do your cred no harm at all."

“Where have you been? We thought you’d got lost or something bad had happened.”

"I'm sorry we're late; we fell asleep in the sunshine."

“That’s okay then, just happy that you’re home safe.”

Stan was relieved that I kept my word and was cheerful and talkative that evening.

For the next few weeks, all seemed to be okay. Working together, Stan and I were doing well in our chosen subjects, and he looked at peace. But, his demeanor then changed dramatically. He became sullen and reticent.

One day Ruby came to our house looking for Stan. "I'm worried, he left home early this morning but didn't take his fishing gear.”

“Stan was a little down yesterday and maybe wants some time on his own.”

"You're right; he hardly said a word last night. Can you look for him to check that he's okay?”

I set off to the usual area and found my macho friend a broken wreck. Stan nuzzled up close to me as soon as I embraced him. His breathing slowed and settled while he nestled his head in my chest. I’m not sure how long we lay there before Stan stirred. Unlike the first time he didn’t jump up, he put his head on my shoulder, tightened his hold on me and smiled. "Thank you for caring about me; you're my angel."

“No need for thanks, I’ll always be here for you, my friend. Now, tell me what’s been going on, why are you so upset.”

To my horror, Stan told me that he was being bullied and humiliated by his former sporty friends. He’d even been stripped and left tied up in the cloakrooms, much to the amusement of all the sympathetic boys that passed through there. Eventually, one of Stan’s classmates told the Janitor, and he came to Stan’s rescue. Even then, his torment wasn't over; he was pointed and giggled at daily by other boys. Did the school do anything about the issue? No, bullying was a part of school life. In fact, many staff considered it character building for boys to have to deal with it. Boys were supposed to be strong and get over it. Any boy that complained was considered a weakling.  

What was even worse was that because boys must always be macho, Stan couldn’t talk about the problem with his mum, dad or even his school friend, Andrew. He'd kept the pain to himself. Luckily, he had no difficulty in sharing his tale of woe with Andrea.

"Don't worry anymore. From now on, you and Andrew will stick together like glue at school to keep the bullies at bay."

“Do you mean that?”

“Yes, those cowards only attack if they can get their target alone. That will not happen again.

“Thanks, that will be of great help.”

"By the way, I've been looking for a hobby. Maybe you could teach me to fish so that we can share.”

Stan pondered for a minute. “I’d like that, but you’d have to come as Andrew, I’ve never met any girls that fish.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

To my surprise, Stan then leaned in and gently kissed me on the lips for a few seconds. “Thank you, Andrea.”

When Stan and I went back to school, the bullies stayed away at first, unable to catch Stan on his own. But, as I'd anticipated, their frustrations got the better of them, and they tackled us.

“Look the wimp’s got a protector. What’s he going to do? He wouldn’t scare a fly.”

“Step back and leave Stan alone or there’ll be trouble.”

“From you and whose army?”

There was a big audience now. Without warning, I kicked the bully in a tender spot. After a very sharp intake of breath, he collapsed to the ground clutching his groin. The cheer that broke out was tremendous, and even the bullies’ mates laughed at his discomfort. He never bothered Stan again.

True to his word, Stan taught me to fish and we’d spend most Saturdays alongside the local river and occasionally at tournaments. I was able to pass muster but was never as skilled or enthusiastic about fishing as him. For me, our trips together were mainly about bonding with Stan and supporting him.

When nothing was biting, we’d often give up on the fishing and laze in the sun chatting. Stan was knowledgeable about events going on in the world and his schoolwork but very naïve about himself, ill-informed on the why’s and wherefores of the physical changes he was going through. Puberty and sexuality were taboo subjects and never discussed by adults, so most kids were in the dark and reliant on playground gossip for information.

Out of the blue one day, Stan asked, “have you ever kissed a girl.”

"No, I haven't, but why the question."

“Some boys were bragging about having snogging sessions with their girlfriends, and I wanted to know what it was like.”

“That was most likely wishful bragging on their part, but remember, you have kissed Andrea.”

 "Oh, of course, I forgot about that. Can I kiss you instead?"

I knew that boys weren’t meant to kiss boys, but ever the curious teen I agreed. Stan took the lead and gently placed his lips on mine. Then, he pulled me in and wow, my heart almost skipped a beat as the sweet sensations passed between us. I pulled Stan tight to me; not wanting this moment to end. We snogged on an off for the rest of that afternoon, both giving and taking in equal measure. If he wanted to, Stan could now boast about his smooching experiences so long as he didn't say with whom. From then on, Saturday afternoons were often spent in a secluded space practicing our kissing technique, to be in readiness for the real thing of course. We’d many enchanting experiments with the tongue tango before we got it just right.

Stan and I had just turned eighteen and were starting our final year at school when our relationship took a further step forward. We were play-fighting and wrestling, as boys often do when I ended up laying on top of Stan. I looked down into his beautiful eyes and couldn’t resist planting a kiss on his lips. He clasped my head and held me to him. During this fantastic moment, I realized that Stan was getting a hard-on. Without a second thought, I rolled off, undid his belt, pulled down his trousers and lifted the waistband of his underpants. Now released, Stan's dick sprung to attention.

“What’s going on, what’re you doing?”

“Shh, relax and enjoy.”

I pulled his undies clear and stroked Stan's cock with my fingers. It quivered at my touch, as did Stan. I clasped his knob and began to move my hand slowly up and down the shaft. Stan started to sigh, and that drove me to pump harder and faster.

“Oh my, what’s going on?”

Stan was grasping at the ground as his cock went rock hard in my hand. His body went rigid, and he groaned loudly as his willy shuddered and spasmed and released a load of cum. He suddenly went limp but soon his breathing settled, and he recovered.

“That was fantastic, what just happened?”

At that moment, I realized that this had been Stan’s first time. I was so happy that it was my hand that initiated him into the marvels of the penis.

"I need a wank now to I relieve my straining cock." I took down my trousers and pants and gripped my tool in my hand.

I had just started to beat the meat when Stan said, “Can I do that for you?”

“If you want to?”

Stan clasped my shaft. My willy reacted immediately to this first-time touch by another’s hand. It quickly became engorged and stiff. Stan was quick on the uptake and didn't have to pump my dick for long before it started to tremor uncontrollably and release glob after glob after glob of hot spunk. Stan’s hand-job gave me my best climax ever. Self-pleasure would never be the same again. Stan and I rolled together and snoozed for the afternoon, before heading off home, still euphoric from our first mutual wank.

Fishing became less and less a part of our Saturdays, just the excuse to get out of the house and find a safe place to make whoopee. On one occasion to celebrate Stan’s exam successes, I offered to give him as many blow jobs as he wanted during our day out. I thought that this would be three or four, at most five but hadn’t counted on Stan’s hunger and resilience. I ended up sucking him off eight times. The last occasion seemed to take forever, but finally, his cock shuddered and convulsed to a dry climax in my aching, throbbing mouth. To my amazement, Stan was keen to go to it again, after all, he was getting the pleasure without doing any work. Fortunately, we had to stop as it was time to go home.

One rainy Saturday Stan and I had my house to ourselves.

“What do you want to do?”

“Let’s go to bed. I'm tired of frantic gropes and fumbles in fields and barns; I want us to get to know each other properly. Today, we can do it in safety and comfort.”

I stripped off in seconds, got into bed and held up the duvet. "Come on, get your hunky body in here."

Stan needed no further encouragement and was soon in beside me. We embraced but were unexpectedly self-conscious, never having been so intimately naked before. These inhibitions quickly disappeared as we began to explore every millimeter of each other, uncovering many hidden erogenous zones that we could use to drive ourselves into a frenzy. I kissed ass for the first time. Stan squealed and giggled with delight as my lips and tongue caressed his bottom, even to the depths of its crack. Spooning with Stan with my shaft wedged between his buttocks was a further new joy which Stan thankfully reciprocated. Naturally, we finished off with mutual masturbation and then slept together for a couple of hours to recover from our steamy session. From that day, Stan and I were no longer two boys playing with each other but a couple sharing our love.

Stan and I came close to being caught by mum that day. We’d dressed and gone through to the living room only minutes before she arrived home. I was relieved by our narrow escape and resolved to be more careful in the future. Just when I went to bed that night did I realize that mum almost certainly knew what Stan and I had been doing. The unmistakable scents of our vigorous activities still permeated my room.  

Making out with Stan was alluring and exciting, but I knew that there was the danger of it becoming insipid and predictable, so, I had been thinking of a new kink. One day we were petting in our favorite barn, getting hot and personal and steadily stripping off. I was naked,  and Stan was about to take off his drawers when I stopped him.

“What are you doing? Don’t you want my cock?”

“Don’t fuss, I want to try something new. It should be fun.”

With Stan laying on his back, I undid the bottom button of his fly, opened it and lifted his balls up out of the way. I then slipped my erect cock into the opening and pushed it down between Stan’s thighs until its head was nestling on his perineum. Under the pull of stretched fabric, my shaft then steadily bedded itself into Stan’s crotch. With my whole cock now in intimate contact with his groin, I started to rock gently back and fore. This stimulation had an immediate effect. Stan began to gasp with delight, his thighs tightly clamped my dick, and his willy sprang into life. To all intents, I was riding Stan, and he was responding accordingly. 

Stan became more and more aroused and vocal as I continued to excite his boy-muff. He gasped with relief when I lifted the waistband of his undies to release his engorged tool from its fabric prison. After a further five or six long strokes, my cock shuddered and shot its load, coating Stan’s quivering muff with hot spunk. That action tipped Stan over the edge, and he groaned in pleasure as his cock began to spasm wildly, releasing jet upon jet of cum.

Stan was on cloud nine. “Oh my, oh my, that was fantastic. You’re a stud. You’ve always turned me on, but I never imagined you could make me freely shoot my load. Who taught you about that loving technique?”

“It was my idea. I noticed that my orgasm was more intense and satisfying if I stroked my perineum while beating the meat. I assumed that it could be the same for you, particularly if the stimulus were my cock. I thought that the extra thrill would make you very, very frisky and desperate for a finish off by blow-job. I didn’t expect to ride you to a climax, but I’m ever so pleased that I did.”

Stan blushed. “I’m glad that you’re happy. I want to repay the favor but not straight away. I need to rest”

“I’m tired as well. Don't worry; there will be plenty more opportunities." We got into our sleeping bag, snuggled down together, shared a kiss, and fell asleep recalling every moment of the encounter.

My only nagging doubt was that the sexual buzz wouldn’t be the same next time. No fears, the climaxes were as good and got even better each time we added new variations. Many were the days that Stan and I went home in underpants soaked with each-others cum.  So much so that I got the lecture from mum about the evils of self-pleasure. Just as well that she never knew the reality.

My relationship with Stan became stronger and stronger. Our love was intense, equally shared and driven by the desire to satisfy each other. Inevitably, there came a time to consider exploring the ultimate in boy-boy intimacy. We discussed the option but decided to hold back, not wanting to put our happiness at risk; unsure if our partnership could withstand the high emotional, physical and trust demands. What if the sex was terrible and we hurt each other? It would ruin our friendship and that we didn’t want to risk.

Stan and I continued to make out regularly, but seeds of doubt began to creep into our liaisons. Were we serious about this or was it just a game? Didn’t we want or trust each other enough to go to all the way?  I’d no doubts that my friendship with Stan had blossomed into unquestioning love, but Stan seemed less sure. To tackle this issue, I knew that I would have to take the lead and offer myself to him. Luckily, fortune provided the opportunity.

“Dad is going to a meeting Tomorrow while mum and the girls are going shopping. We can spend the day in comfort, better than our usual grassy fields or draughty barns.”

“Funny, I don’t remember you ever complaining about where we make out.”

“No, you’re right. You get me so hot and steamy that I never notice the surroundings, but for one day we can enjoy the comforts of home.”

My brain ticked over and hatched a plan. I was at Stan's house at eight o'clock in the morning, so early that Stan was still in his pajamas when he answered the door. That didn’t last long. We locked the door, quickly stripped each other and got down to seriously heavy petting. Soon, we both had stiffs, and Stan was ready to give me a blow-job when I stopped him.

“Don’t do that. I’ve got a surprise for you. Come with me."

Stan followed me through to his bedroom where I handed him a bottle of baby oil.

Stan looked completely perplexed. “What’s this for?”

“I’m offering you my anal cherry.”

Stan was shocked. “What, are you sure?”

“Yes, I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. Let’s get on with it but promise you’ll be gentle and will stop if I ask you?”

“Yes, of course.”

I kneeled beside the bed and flopped down onto it, leaving my pristine bum exposed and ready. That move had an instant effect. Stan’s cock became fully erect again, and he was grinning, apparently desperate to do me.

I sighed as Stan started working the oil around my bum hole and moaned with pleasure as a finger pushed its way through my sphincters and began to explore and probe the outer regions of my rectum. My one worry was that if I was struggling to accommodate this single finger, how could I take Stan’s big dick?

Stan must have noticed my anxiety because he withdrew his finger before massaging in there with two then three fingers.

By now, I was very horny.

"Please, I want your cock, take me now.” 

Stan withdrew his fingers, and soon I felt his penis between my buttocks and its head pushing against my butt hole. The outer sphincter gave way, but the inner one was a different matter. It refused entry, and the pressure of Stan’s cock pushing hard against it began to cause pain. Stan sensed this and was about to pull out.

I didn’t want to disappoint him, so said, “No, don’t stop now, keep going. I can cope, you must push through.”

The pain became almost unbearable, and I was gritting my teeth when I felt Stan thrust again. I pushed myself sharply backward onto his cock. There was a sharp burst of pain, but under two-way assault, the inner sphincter suddenly gave way allowing the head of Stan’s willy into me.

Stan was about to give me some recovery-time, but I said, “Don’t stop. You may get forced back out, keep going slowly until your shaft is fully in me.”

Soon, Stan's penis filled my boy fud. I was struggling to cope, feeling as though I was about to burst. But, then nature took over and my love tube adjusted itself to Stan’s probing cock. The pain was gone, and wow, things started getting hot down there as that throbbing dick steadily probed and pillaged my snatch. Soon, I was moaning and groaning with delight, my twat now ravished and nearing its limit.”

"Let yourself go, ride me fast and hard, fill me up."

Stan’s shaft pulled back almost to the sphincters, and then he pushed the full length back into me. That stroke itself almost blew me away. As Stan pulled back from his third stroke, his cock started to quiver, and his breathing became erratic. He rammed that weapon deep inside me again, it began to convulse frantically, and there was a rapid build-up of heat around the tip as his sizzling cum shot out. Stan stayed inside me while his rod tremored and pulsed post-orgasm. I quivered as Stan slowly withdrew his cock. The erotic spasm that spread through my bum when the stretched sphincters snapped shut as soon as they were free of the invader was a bonus.

My head was spinning, “Phew, no doubt you’re the real stud, lover boy. You’ve used me good and proper, shagged me gaga.”

“The pleasure was all mine. I’m just relieved that I was able to satisfy you.”

Both exhausted, we crawled into bed, huddled together and fell asleep. It was about two hours later that Stan kissed me gently on the lips.

“Wake up lazy bones. I want you now.”

It always amazes me how the body can go from comatose to active and alert in almost an instant. “I want you now” was the critical prompt for me. In less than a minute, Stan and I were on top of the bed making out, getting very hot and bothered.

"I want to do you now. Kneel down as I did and get ready for love."

I’d learned from my time, so I spend at least ten minutes applying oil to Stan’s bum and massaging his sphincters and rectum with one, then two and finally three fingers. This action enchanted Stan. By now, he was almost gagging for it.

I lubricated my tool and pushed two fingers into Stan’s ass hole. He sighed as I stretched the sphincters, groaned as I pushed the head of my cock between the fingers and howled with delight when I removed them while continuing to drive my cock into him. The sphincters tried their best but couldn’t stop my rampant tool from having its way. Once inside, I started to rock back and fore, progressively pushing my dick slightly further and further into Stan's tight snatch. He was struggling to deal with it. Realising how easy it would be to get carried away and do damage, I continued to enter him slowly but steadily. Soon, helped by the copious lubricant my shaft was entirely inside Stan. His honey tunnel was clasping and pulsing around my prick, trying to expel the intruder, but that just heightened the sensations for both of us. Stan was cooing and moaning with pleasure, and I was in raptures as my willy plundered this resisting love hole.

“Do me harder, ride me silly."

Tempting as that was I held back, not wanting to lose control and possibly hurting him. I did speed up a little and started taking longer strokes until I was almost taking the whole length in and out each time. After a few minutes of this, Stan’s twat began to ripple powerfully around my cock, his bum also began to tremble, and his breathing became deep and ragged. That finished me off, two further hard strokes and my willie convulsed and shot its load inside Stan.

We crawled into bed and canoodled together before falling asleep, only stirring about three hours later. Although both randy and wanting more, we showed restraint, just enjoying the fantastic memories of popping each other’s anal cherries, our love now sealed most intimately. 

I didn't sleep much that night; now that the genie was out of the bottle I was desperate for more. Next morning, Stan and I picked up our fishing gear and left before anyone else was awake. We soon reached our safe place, and any hint of self-control vanished. Our cocks were well used that day. The boy pussies that had been so pure and virginal on Saturday morning were raided so many times by Sunday night that they could be considered as veterans of cock action.

Stan and I were insatiable. For the next few weeks, we had sex daily Monday through Friday and much more often at weekends. However, even randy teens like us couldn’t keep up this exhausting pace forever, so we progressively reduced our lovemaking to two enthralling days each week. To our great joy, the quality was much better and more mind-blowing, in part because our cocks and snatches were ultra-ripe and hungry for action after a few days of rest. Of course, it wasn’t as simple as that. Like all teen boys, Stan and I were prone to human urges surfacing without warning and for no apparent reason, and we had to sate them quickly if we were to continue functioning in school. Nothing shatters a boy’s concentration as much as a nagging carnal need, so Stan and I sometimes sneaked off at lunchtime to a wooded area nearby the school to deal with these urgent necessities.

After about six months Stan and I eased off even further while going through a period of intensive final year study. I’d anticipated that we would return to the previous frequency and intensity once the final examinations were complete, but this was not to be the case. Stan was hardly ever at home, and even when we did get together, the intercourse was mechanical rather than passionate. Worse still, we weren’t sharing. Stan insisted on being the top each time. Things came to a head when I’d had enough and refused to have sex unless he let me top him.

Stan flew into a rage and punched me. “You’ll do what I want or else.”

Sadly, I gave in. Stan took me in a none too gentle manner and wandered off, leaving me alone on the ground.

After that, I avoided Stan like the plague, even in school. I was devastated and couldn’t understand why this had happened. Was it my fault? What had I done wrong?

One day, Simon, a boy in our school approached me. “Stay away from Stan, you Tosspot; he's my lover now.”

Simon and Harold were one of several other boy couples in the school and had both been sports mates of Stan before they became lovers. Harold moved away from the area around the time that Stan and I were at hands-off and abstaining. Sensing an opportunity, Simon made a play for the ever-hungry Stan, and the rest is history.

I could with difficulty accept that Stan found a new and possibly better beau, that is the perverse nature of love. But, I couldn’t bear the fact that he didn’t make a clean break of it. Stan continued to use my boy fud after he and Simon became lovers. As it turns out, Simon was a dominant top, so Stan was using me as a bottom to counterbalance his subservient role to Simon. This situation didn’t sit well with Simon, he needed to be in total control. Hence, the warning for me to stay away from Stan. They soon broke up when a new more pliant bottom came onto the scene, but by then the irreparable damage was done. There was now no way that I could or would accept Stan or indeed any other male in my life.

I went into a downward spiral. I couldn’t talk to anyone about these events. After all, boy-boy love was a cardinal sin, wasn't it? Also, I couldn't visit Ruby or the girls in case Stan was there, so I became introspective and reclusive.

Michelle and Irene knew that something was wrong. “Have you and Stan fallen out? What’s happened, what’s the problem, can we help?”

“Stan and I are no longer friends. I can't say why. That's between him and me."

The girls persisted but seeing that they were getting nowhere eventually left me alone.

One day while out for a walk I met Ruby as she was heading off to catch the town bus.

“I haven’t seen you for a while, is everything okay?”

“Just feeling down, a bit at a loss now the exams are over.”

“You could help me if you’d like. The garden’s run wild. I know that it’s an almost impossible task, but could you have a go at tidying it?”

Realising that this was an opportunity to start to move on from the past I accepted the challenge.

“I’d be delighted, nothing like fresh air and hard work to clear out the cobwebs.”

Ruby and Mum were already off to town when I arrived at the house next morning. I immediately regretted my offer. The garden wasn't just wild; it was a jungle. This job was going to be a long and hard, but, it was what I needed to help me focus on better things.

I’d been there for around five hours with little to show for my efforts when Michelle and Irene arrived back from a hockey match.

“Hey Andrew, why are you so glum. You should be happy, you’ve already made a big difference to the garden.”

“Ha, ha. No need to be funny.”

“Come with us sourpuss. We know what you need to brighten up your day.”

I followed Michelle and Irene into the house. After an hour of pampering and preening, the girls had me transformed into Andrea, even down to the short style skirt they were so fond of making me wear. Now cocooned in femininity, my spirits had already lifted, I was in a happier place."

I was clumsy and awkward at first, my gait had regressed to boyish style in recent years, but with encouragement from the girls, I quickly retrieved a female demeanor. Ever the cheeky imps, Michelle and Irene loved this, reliving every aspect of those early days of my training, even to the point of conning me into flashing my panties. That brought much hilarity and helped the fond memories of those girly times to flood back. We played, chatted and chuckled together all afternoon and then had tea on the lawn.

“Hey, the town bus is due back. Let's meet our mums. They’ll get a wonderful surprise.”

We set off into the village. Remarkably, I felt a skip in my step. I was cheery again.

Ruby and Mum were pleased to see Irene and Michelle and over the moon that Andrea had returned. We joked and laughed while walking home arm in arm.

“We girls are going to have a fun summer.”

This thought filled me with joy, but also with a little apprehension. Was this the path for me? Any lingering doubts disappeared in the days and weeks that followed. I became increasingly at ease and confident as Andrea, even attending the graduations of Irene and Michelle while missing my own. Having gone the full circle, I began to consider if I could and should now live full-time as a female.