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 JUST A NORMAL AVERAGE BOY - mm

   Copyright (c) 2009 by AL X

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   This story contains sexually graphic and explicit material.  It is NOT
suitable for minors.  If you are a minor, LEAVE NOW as it is illegal for
you to be here.  If it is illegal for you to read or view sexually explicit
material in your community, LEAVE NOW.  If you are offended by sexually
explicit stories, LEAVE NOW.  This story and characters are purely
fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is
purely coincidental.  These stories are pure fiction and do not promote or
condone the activities described herein, especially when it comes to unsafe
sexual practices or sex between adults and minors.

   You may link to this story from non-commercial or free sites, but you
may not copy or use it for any commercial purpose.

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   Secret Sissy - Episode 1



   "Just a Normal Average Boy"



   by Al X



   How did it start?  How did I go from being just another normal average
boy to a secret cocksucking sissy?  Where did it begin?  That's easy to
answer - in a darkened theater when I was just 13 years old.

   Before then I had no interest in sex, and just a normal interest in
girls.  I was somewhat of a shy boy, quiet and tender, but I had many
friends - both boys and girls - and was interested in all the normal kid
stuff.  I knew about sex, of course, I heard the words and had even peeked
at some adult magazines, but I was relatively clueless about sex.  What
exactly did "to cum" mean?  What was an orgasm?  I had only limited
experience with exploring my own body; I occasionally rubbed myself and got
hard, but had never actually climaxed.  As for girls, I had had a couple of
harmless crushes and had done some kissing, but nothing else.  As for boys,
well, they never entered my mind.

   So there i was, just another average 13 year-old boy, clueless about
sex. It was a Saturday afternoon and my friend Bill and I were at an
afternoon movie.  I don't recall the film - a James Bond flick, perhaps -
but I know the theater wasn't crowded.  We sat alone in the row, just me
and Bill.

   I knew Bill for about 2 years.  He was just another average boy, but
with a stronger personality than me.  He was something of a leader, and I
was something of a follower.

   Like me, he hadn't done much with the girls.  And I didn't think he had
done anything sexual.  So I was shocked when he leaned over to me and
whispered: "I have a hardon."

   I flashed him a quick look but said nothing.  I didn't understand why he
was telling me this - it was so out of the blue, so inappropriate, so odd.
I ignored him and returned to watching the movie.

   But about a minute later he whispered: "My cock is really hard."

   What the heck was he doing?  I looked over at him - the theater was dark
but the glow from the screen cast some light on him.  I could see that he
had a bit of a smirk.  He looked at me and then he looked down at his lap.
I did as well, and saw that his legs were spread.  I couldn't tell if there
was a bulge or not.  But again, I said nothing.

   I turned away and returned to watching the movie.  Or at least tried to,
as I was getting a little nervous.  Or anxious.  And surprised that he had
said the word "cock." The word sounded dirty, sexual.  Why was he saying
this to me?

   Another whispered question: "Do you want to feel it?"

   I didn't answer.  I just shook my head and kept staring at the screen. I
acted as if I was ignoring him, but I could see peripherally that he was
staring at me.  I even sneaked a peak at his lap and saw that he had his
left hand in his groin and he was rubbing himself.  He was making himself
hard!

   I should have said something then and there, should have told him no,
should have told him to stop, should have said 'cut the crap, I ain't no
sissy' but I didn't.  And so he continued.

   "No one will see you," he whispered.  "You can feel my hardon and no one
will know."

   I was getting shaken up.  I kept my head fixed staring ahead, not
wanting to acknowledge him.  Why would I want to touch him, to feel his
hardon?  I didn't want to do it.  I didn't want to be one of those kind of
boys.  I wasn't a fag, a queer, a sissy.  I didn't want to touch him.  What
did he think of me?

   And yet I hadn't protested.  I had only shaken my head feebly.  Had I
said 'get out' or 'get away from me' or 'hell no' that would have surely
ended it right then and there, but I guess my lack of protest indicated to
Bill that I wasn't opposed to his come-on.

   "I won't tell a soul.  I promise."

   And still no protest from me.  My heart was beating fast, wondering
where this was going to lead.  Was I actually going to touch him?  I never
pictured myself in this situation, and yet I was excited about the
prospect. Thrilled even.  But still uncertain.

   Looking back I can see that Bill somehow knew me better than I knew
myself.  He sensed that I wasn't entirely opposed to touching him, and knew
that he could coax me, he could guide me and control me.  And he seized the
opportunity.

   His tone was more forceful now.  "I'm going to move your hand and ..."
he whispered.

   And what?  He didn't say.  I guess he figured that this would be my last
chance to stop this from going further.  All I had to do was pull away from
him, but would I?

   I held my breath and waited.  As did he.  He took his time.  I was still
staring at the screen, but glimpsing peripherally at him.  And in my mind I
was debating, still trying to figure out what I was going to do when He
reached over and placed his hands over my wrist.  My arm went limp,
submitting control to him.  I held my breath as he lifted my arm over the
arm rest and then set it down until my open hand was resting on his right
leg, a few inches from his crotch.

   He kept it there, he didn't move, he didn't flinch.  I didn't move
either.  I just sat there, nervous as held, waiting.  And then he
whispered: "Do you want to feel my hardon?" His voice was stronger than
before, more assertive.

   I didn't want to answer, I wasn't going to answer, but then he leaned a
little closer.  "Say it."

   I swallowed hard, suddenly realizing that he was going to make me
acknowledge it that I did.  His old on my wrist tightened.  "Say it," he
demanded.

   And finally I spoke.  "Yes."

   With that he moved my hand down between his legs until it rested firmly
atop his hardon.  I could feel it beneath the light fabric of his pants. 
My hand was limp, but I could feel him throbbing, I could feel him tensing
his cock.

   I still wasn't sure what to do, but he was going to guide me.

   "Squeeze it," he whispered, and I obeyed.  I squeezed it tight and felt
the shape of his thin cock.  It felt exciting, naughty, bad, sexual.  I
squeezed hard for a few seconds, then relaxed my grip.  And suspecting what
would feel good, I squeezed again.  And again.

   "Keep doing that." It was an order.

   I squeezed a couple of times, and then he pushed my hand down a little
bit, until my fingertips were at the bottom of his balls.  Now when I
squeezed I was squeezing his cock and balls.

   I got brave enough to turn my head to look at him.  He was staring at
me, with just the slightest of smiles.  I then looked down into his lap to
see my hand on his crotch.  He still had his hand around my wrist, and he
started to move it up and down slowly.

   "Keep doing that," he said as he released his grip on me, and I did.  I
rubbed him up and down, slowly, squeezing him, my palm rubbing against his
cock, my fingers grasping his balls.

   "Faster," he said, and I picked up the tempo.  I could see the reaction:
I heard him catch his breath, and he tensed his legs, and he even let out a
little moan.

   'Make me cum," he told me, but the words and his tone scared me a
little, and I stopped and started to pull away, but he grabbed my wrist
again, tightly and pulled it over his crotch.  "Do it," He spoke so
forcefully that I was compelled to comply.  To submit, that's what I was
doing.

   I started rubbing him again, faster.

   "You make my cock ... feel good." He had his eyes closed now and he
released his grip on my wrist.  "Get me off.  Make me cum" I could feel him
moving his hips up and down to match my rhythm.  "Faster!  ... Harder -
squeeze me harder ... Make me cum."

   He was close and he grabbed my wrist again to ensure I wouldn't stop. 
He let out another low moan and I knew he was feeling something intense.  I
knew he was cumming, even if I wasn't entirely sure what that meant.

   And then it was over.  He stopped moving and he held my hand in place. I
just sat there, a bit mystified and excited.  I suddenly realized that my
own cock was hard.  I wanted him to do the same thing to me, but had a
feeling that wasn't going to happen.

   I went to move my hand away, but again he held in place.  "Wait," he
said.  "I want you to feel it."

   I wasn't sure what he meant.  "Your hardon?"

   "No, my cum." He waited a few seconds then moved my fingertips up until
I could feel a dampness on his pants.  "There," he said, as he rubbed my
fingers in the wet spot.  "That's my cum.  That's what you made me do."

   I looked away, embarrassed.  I felt a bit humiliated.  Somehow feeling
his wet spot made the experience more real, made me feel like a bit of a
sissy.

   "Don't worry, I won't tell anybody." He rubbed my fingers a little more,
until they were wet.

   And so we sat there, me with my hand in the lap of my best friend,
having just gotten him off, pretending to watch the movie.

   "Hey," Bill whispered.  "This is our little secret."





   THE END

   Written during February, 2009 / Revised February 15, 2009

   For more stories by Al X and to send comments to the author, visit
www1.asstr.org/~ALX/index.html