Date: Sun, 1 May 2016 21:44:05 +0200
From: Julian Obedient <julian.obedient@gmail.com>
Subject: How We Touch

julian.obedient@gmail.com

How We Touch


     I remember the first time I saw you standing all by yourself across
the way in a corner of the schoolyard. You were the most beautiful boy I
had ever seen. I wanted to worship you.

     I was a new boy and felt shy and a little frightened because I knew
that the other boys in school would never understand or accept me. Even
without my telling anybody anything, everybody knew. Everybody always said
I was just too pretty for a boy: I should have been a girl. That confused
me because I really could not figure out the deep difference. And as for
being what I should be rather than what I am, that did not make any sense,
either. I was who I was, and I liked it. I liked my face and my long dark
wavy hair that fell over my forehead, and sometimes even covered one eye
and made me shake my head so petulantly to get free of it; and I liked my
body. It was smooth and silky when I touched it. I liked touching it and
caressing it. I did not want it to be different. I liked the little thing
between my legs, and I did not care what name it was called. It just felt
so good to touch it. And now when I touched it and started rubbing it,
something so thrilling happened, I never imagined such excitement could
happen. I liked the hole on the other side, too. I could not see it, but I
could feel it when I squeezed myself or prodded it with my fingers, or
gushed water through its slit when I was in the shower. I liked my chest
too with its little pink nipples that were so soft and sensitive when I
played with them.

     But I did not like when the other boys made mean comments about me, or
spoke derisively about girls in general. Somehow, when I saw you, I knew
you would not do that; you were not like them. Maybe you were like me and
we could become friends, maybe even special friends. But I was shy and
frightened to approach you. How could I know if you even wanted me to, if
you even noticed me? And I thought I would die if you rejected me.

     I decided I had to find a way to get you to notice me, and maybe even
talk to me. So one night, I put a little bit of hydrogen peroxide on a
piece of cotton and I swabbed it across the patch of my hair that sometimes
fell over my eyes. It worked. That streak was blond. If you noticed it, I
promised myself I would say hello to you.

     The rest, you already know. I walked into the classroom, doing my best
to hide how self-conscious I was. You were at your desk, already, staring
at nothing, and then when the door shut behind me, you looked at me, and
you started for a second, and then you smiled.

     The seat next to yours was empty, so I sat down in it, and I turned to
you and said, "Is it ok I sit here?" You grinned and shook your head "yes."
"I'm Chris," you said. "I'm Julian," I said, and then I said *sotto voce*,
"but sometimes I'm Julia." "Hello, Julia," you said with a naughty giggle.
"Sometimes I'm Chrissie," "Hi, Chrissie," I said. "You want to walk home
together this afternoon?" "Sure," you said. It was like we'd always known
each other.

     "I like the blond streak in your hair," Chrissie said as they walked
slowly passed the private homes that dotted the street.

     "I did it so you would notice me,"

     "I noticed you already."

     "You did?"

     "Sure. I wanted to talk to you. But I'm shy."

    "Me too."

     "I'm not so sure. It was a very brave thing to do, what you did to
your beautiful hair. Boys can be so mean."

     "But you're not mean, and you're a boy."

     "I am a boy, but I'm a boy like you. I'm a different kind of boy. I
don't like being mean, and I would never be mean to you. This is where I
live," Chrissie said when we were standing in front of a really nice
English Tudor house with a horseshoe driveway and lawns with flower beds on
either side of it. "Do you want to come in?"

     "Would it be ok with your parents?

     "They're not at home. They're away for the week. They're software
developers and they're at some convention in Chicago. But, yeah, it would
be ok with them."

     "So we have the house all to ourselves?"

     "It'll be fun," Chrissie said, unlocking the front door.

     Chrissie led Julian up to his room."

     "I really like your hair. Can I touch it?"

     Julian bent his head and gently took Chrissie's hand and placed it on
the streak of blond that fell on his face. As Chrissie stroked his hair,
Julian caressed her hand. Their faces were very near and their lips
touched, and by mutual accord, they kissed, first shyly, like young boys
who were just learning how to kiss, and then they kissed more boldly,
confident in their desire.

     Something happens when you kiss that makes it really hard to stop.
They did not stop. They lay on top of Chris' bed and kissed long and
luscious voluptuous kisses, kisses like the richest words, kisses that made
them want to kiss more and longer, kisses that could never stop, kisses
that made them prisoners of kisses, kisses that enslaved them to kissing.
They kissed with their eyes open and laughing together. Their kisses were
like swings that took them higher into the clouds and made endless arcs of
delight.

     Dizzy with desire they separated and laughed.

     "Would you like to see me in make-up and my girly things?" Chris said.

     "Would you?" Julian said.

     "I want to, and then I'll be Chrissie."

     "I want you to be Chrissie," Julian said.

     "But I don't want you to watch me become Chrissie. So I want you to go
downstairs to the library until I come down to get you. I think you'll find
a lot of interesting picture books there. Go now, like the good naughty boy
that you are."

     Julian obeyed, and went down to the library where he lost himself for
he did not know how long in a wonderful folio volume of Aubrey Beardsley
illustrations until a knock on the library door surprised him, and she
walked in.

     "Oh, Chrissie," Julian said looking up at her.

     "Like me?"

     "Like you"? I said advancing towards you. "You are the most beautiful
girl I have ever seen."

     As he took her by both hand and held her at arm's length fully to
appreciate how beautiful she was, the yellow silk wrapper that hung from
her shoulders and cloaked her, parted revealing her willowy girly body. Her
legs were lovely and the heels and stocking -- held up by delicate
suspenders attached to a lacy black garter belt – made him fall to his
knees before her and caress them. Her delicate chest was soft and
wonderful, and her nipples, as well as her lips, were daubed with rouge.

     "My silly, Julian," she whispered, "stand up, and kiss me."

     He rose and took her in his arms. The way she yielded made his
masculinity flare. He put his lips to hers and with his tongue parted them
and kissed her with all the strength that knowing she belonged to him
confers.

     She took his hand and as they were still kissing led him out of the
library and upstairs to her bedroom.

      You let your wrapper drop from off your delicate shoulders and
unbuttoned the long cream colored silk shirt that you had thrown over my
naked body when you sent me down to the library. You cupped my little
walnut ballsac in your palm and stood on tiptoes and began blowing soft
quick kisses on my lips and every time I tried to catch one you pulled away
and then came back, teasing me with longer and deeper kisses until our
mouths could not separate. In heaven, I rubbed your inner thighs above your
stockings. You gasped with screams when I caressed your dainty and tender
penis. Slowly I plunged my stiff little boy tool between your thighs and we
danced together forever.

     "Say you belong to me," I said.

     "I belong to you."

     "Tell me you love me."

     "I love you," you said.

     "Tell me you want to be my girl."

     "I want to be your girl," you said and ravished my senses with your
kisses and the undulations of your body pressing mine. And then you looked
at me with a naughty glint in your eyes:

     "Tell me you are my very feminine slave boy."

     "I am your very feminine slave boy," I promised.



     The moon had risen and was watching us when we awoke still twined in
each other's arms. Under the gaze of that lunar spotlight we rose and
looked out the window at a pond shimmering in the moonlight.

     "It's all so lovely," Chrissie said, kissing Julian and caressing the
back of his head. "Now, it's your turn," she said, "to be transformed in
the moonlight. I will make you into the most beautiful girl you have ever
seen."

     She trailed her finger over Julian's eyelids. "You have beautiful
eyes. You have lips made for lipstick."

     She tinted his lips and outlined his eyes and dusted his eyelids and
gave him a tiny pink spandex thong that pushed his penis and ballsac
between his legs and made a perfect V where they had been, and then,
wearing only heels and stockings she kneeled in front of him and first with
her fingers and then with her tongue stroked his tender V. He breathed in
deeply and shuddered. She stood and kissed his willing lips, then placed
her finger over them.

     "Now you are Julia," she said. "Do you love me, my precious girl, my
beautiful Julia?"

     "I love you, my darling, darling Chrissie," she whispered looking
deeply into her eyes.