BJ and the Fur Cape
I had my first sexual encounter during the summer of 1971, one week before beginning the 7th grade at Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrows Middle School. As the name of the school suggests, I was perpetually saddened to be a student at this fascist Catholic indoctrination camp. The brainwashing there was intense as I was continually bombarded with morality lessons. Masturbation, sex before marriage, homosexual acts, and even smoking cigarettes were all mortally sinful. Engaging in any one of these activities would surely send me to a fiery eternity in Hell.
Well, at the age of 12, my ticket to Hell was punched. I suppose the exact moment of my damnation was that very second when I bent my head and engulfed a penis for the very first time. It was an awkward moment to be sure, but thoughts of fire and brimstone were the furthest thing from my mind. All I wanted to do was to suck this high school sophomore's dick.
In fact, I had spent many nights and early mornings thinking about boys and masturbating to the image of my sliding a hard shaft in and out of my mouth. Ironically, it was some heterosexual porn that I found earlier that summer that got me thinking about cock-sucking. In this glossy magazine that I found, there were dozens of pictures of gorgeous women pleasuring men with their lips. They were so pretty and seemed to be enjoying the men, their penises, and even the creamy cum that shot into their mouths and on their faces.
So when the opportunity to come face-to-face with a hard shaft arose (so to speak), I was emotionally eager to have my first taste. I was not disappointed. Despite everything I had ever heard from the nuns, I did not turn into a pillar of salt. Instead, I felt very, very good. When I licked and sucked on his 6-inches, I heard him moaning in pleasure. This thrilled me. I felt somewhat empowered, or as empowered as a 12-year old could feel.
Indeed, the feelings of power evaporated fairly quickly as my pre-teen mind began to spin with all the crap that I had been force-fed my entire life. Raised in a strict and sometimes oppressive Italian-Catholic family, shame and guilt were my go-to emotions. The nuns reinforced my sinful nature, and at the time, even popular culture degraded and ostracized "alternative" sexuality.
So I soon found myself alone in my room, replaying my first blowjob with mixed feelings of excitement and satisfaction--along with torment and condemnation.
And to complicate things even more, I fancied myself naughty little girl when I went down and gobbled up that dick. So for those keeping count at home, here is the sin tally:
These were crimes against God that could not be mitigated by the recitation of 10 Our Fathers and 10 Hail Marys.
So when the opportunity to come face-to-face with a hard shaft arose (so to speak), I was emotionally eager to have my first taste. I was not disappointed. Despite everything I had ever heard from the nuns, I did not turn into a pillar of salt. Instead, I felt very, very good. When I licked and sucked on his 6-inches, I heard him moaning in pleasure. This thrilled me. I felt somewhat empowered, or as empowered as a 12-year old could feel.
Indeed, the feelings of power evaporated fairly quickly as my pre-teen mind began to spin with all the crap that I had been force-fed my entire life. Raised in a strict and sometimes oppressive Italian-Catholic family, shame and guilt were my go-to emotions. The nuns reinforced my sinful nature, and at the time, even popular culture degraded and ostracized "alternative" sexuality.
So I soon found myself alone in my room, replaying my first blowjob with mixed feelings of excitement and satisfaction--along with torment and condemnation.
And to complicate things even more, I fancied myself naughty little girl when I went down and gobbled up that dick. So for those keeping count at home, here is the sin tally:
- lust;
- masturbation;
- pre-marital sex;
- homosexual pleasure;
- transsexual fantasy; and of course,
- making Mary, the Virgin Mother of Jesus, cry.
These were crimes against God that could not be mitigated by the recitation of 10 Our Fathers and 10 Hail Marys.
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At roughly the same time, I was having my first brushes with cross-dressing. It started very innocently. My parents were away for the evening and my older brother had gone to spend time with his friends from school. Left alone to roam the house, the very first thing I did was to go to my mother's closet and search out a beautiful, fur-trimmed cape that she would wear on special occasions. I had admired it for several years and now that I was completely alone, it struck me that I should try it on. Oh my god, it felt so good to wrap the cape around me. The soft fur caressed my chin and the silky lining felt wonderful on my arms.
When I looked in the mirror, though, the drab boy's clothing I was wearing completely ruined the effect. So with very little hesitation whatsoever, I stripped out of my boy clothes and put the cape on again. It felt divine. Again it was the caress of silk on my smooth naked body and the lush fur around my neck and hands that sent me into immediate state of emotional and physical arousal.
I admired myself in the mirror but once again there was a small problem. (And by small I mean my boy-sized penis.) Know that by the age of 12, I had become repulsed by my male appendage and I could barely stand to look at it. But I found that if I pressed myself between my thighs, hiding my fleshy little dick, I could trick myself into believing I was a pretty little girl--a pretty little girl in a fashionable fur cape.
That one trip to my mother's closet that night unleashed the cross-dresser in me. It opened the floodgates and whenever I found myself alone, I would forage through mom's closets, hope chest, and dresser drawers to find girly things to wear. I loved getting naked and trying on lingerie, hosiery, skirts, silky blouses and best of all, shoes. Looking back, it was less about the clothing and more about experiencing the world from a feminine point of view.
That one trip to my mother's closet that night unleashed the cross-dresser in me. It opened the floodgates and whenever I found myself alone, I would forage through mom's closets, hope chest, and dresser drawers to find girly things to wear. I loved getting naked and trying on lingerie, hosiery, skirts, silky blouses and best of all, shoes. Looking back, it was less about the clothing and more about experiencing the world from a feminine point of view.
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Having had my first male boyfriend and experimenting with sexy women's clothing, the stage was being set for a dramatic epiphany. That epiphany came when I found a copy of transsexual Christine Jorgensen's best-selling autobiography in the library. Maybe there was hope for me afterall.
In my next post, I'll share a little about the verbal abuse, physical beatings and sexual assault I endured during my early teen years as it became somewhat clear to those around me that I was different. I'll see you soon. 💗
In my next post, I'll share a little about the verbal abuse, physical beatings and sexual assault I endured during my early teen years as it became somewhat clear to those around me that I was different. I'll see you soon. 💗
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