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From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: RP JayCee 1/9
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TG: "JayCee" by Vickie Tern, 1/9 teen femdom, m/f etc  Celeste's #85 1997

This story contains no unnatural acts only because nothing in
nature is unnatural.  But various characters here do uncommon
things with each other, as well as the usual things, always
considerate of each other's feelings.  If this offends you, read no
further.  

If you're under whatever the age of consent where you live, read no
further.  You might learn to do uncommon things while being
considerate, as well as the usual things, and we can't have that.

Vickie Tern's stories are archived at
http://library.gaycafe.com/nifty/transgender/by_authors/Vickie_Tern 

To archivists everywhere who make stories like these freely available 
to those who enjoy them, thanks.  You are among the glories of the Net.

Also, I appreciate any kind of e-mail comment on my stories, 
VickieTern@AOL.COM, and I usually reply in kind.



                         JayCee
                     by Vickie Tern

     
     I made my first really intimate girlfriend just before my last
year in High School, the summer I was nearly seventeen.  Strictly
speaking, his mother had already shaped him out, but I put on the
finishing touches, so I guess you can say we both made him my
girlfriend.  When I finished with him he loved what I'd done, and
we've been good friends ever since, though since we went away to
different colleges we've hardly seen each other, only when I'm home
on vacation and he is too.  He's still a girl and will be for life,
but with a difference.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.  

     When I began with him he thought he was a boy and wanted to
live like one, and I could understand that.  I'd wanted to be a boy
too until I hit puberty and my body began to round out and smooth
over, and my tits ripened, and I realized I had no choice.  Then I
discovered it's much better to be a girl.  Marianne, the boy I'm
talking about, he never had any choice either, not really, but he
didn't know that till later.

     I better explain all this.  When I was little I hated wearing
frilly dresses and ribbons whenever we went visiting, and sitting
up straight with my Mary Janes dangling off the floor, and
listening to the grownups talk, and always being neat and ladylike. 
My boy cousins could stretch out all over the floor and wear torn
jeans and boy-size work boots, and pick their noses, and make
disgusting noises all they wanted.  Or they could go out and climb
trees, or throw footballs, but I always had to be a lady, even when
I was still a little girl.  It wasn't fair, just because I happened
to be born a girl.  I really envied them.  So whenever I could I
wore jeans and boots and learned how to swallow air and belch the
same as them.  Anything they did, I decided I was going to do too,
better!  And I did, too!

     My mom despaired, though she never gave up on me.  She'd ask
me over and over, "JayCee, why don't you play with dolls like all
the other girls.  There are such pretty dolls these days, and whole
wardrobes for them, and even makeup."  

     I'd answer, "Because I'd rather play with boys, Mom."  She
never could figure out how to answer that, so mostly she'd leave me
alone then until the next time.

     In fact I was quicker than most boys, and smarter, and
tougher, and more stubborn, and I never refused a dare dodging
traffic or climbing trees.  But when we crossed into our teens all
the boys began to develop deep chests and shoulder muscles, and got
so they could swing on branches like apes.  Not me.  With my thin
arms I could only hang there and then let go.  They got bulkier and
stronger and I only got softer and rounder, a lot softer and
rounder on my chest.  So I had to quit trying to compete with them. 
I bought a bra and took up being a girl as a life sentence.

     That pleased my folks, who'd never thought it would happen. 
Especially my mom was delighted when she found she had a daughter
to shop for after all.  Then once I got some girl clothes and
started wearing them, and got a girl's hairdo, and started wearing
a little makeup, wow, I found out that for my whole life I'd been
absolutely wrong!  Talk about dumb?  What I found out was that no
way did I ever have to prove I was as good as a boy.  I found out
that girls never have to prove anything.  They're already better
than boys in every way that matters.  And I found that deep down,
boys already know this.  Girls don't ever have to do anything boys
do because they can always get boys to do it for them.  A girl can
make a boy stumble all over his own feet and fall on his face if
she feels like it, no problem.  Girls can even hurt boys real bad,
and if they do it just right the boys'll never complain -- in fact 
they'll say thank you.  They can't help it.  That's how they're
made.  

     Even my boy cousins couldn't help themselves, I realized.  One
day when we were still thirteen or so two of them were showing off
in trees in their back yard, and one of them paraded right off the
end of a branch while looking over his shoulder to see if I was
watching.  He broke his collar bone when he hit the ground, but
when his parents hustled him off to the hospital he was still
looking back to see if I'd seen it happen!  It's obvious.  Boys
want to please girls.  They need to.  The only choice they get,
maybe, is which girl especially.  They'll do anything we say, if we
know how to say it just the right way.  And that's how it is.

                                   I.

     I guess I was still fourteen when I first found out how far I
could push a boy, and how much fun it was.  Our house has a
swimming pool in the back yard.  The previous owner used it just to
look at, but our family uses it all the time, and so do a few of my
friends from time to time, when I invite them over.   

     Well, one day when it was hot and my folks were out, two boys
I knew from school came by, a year or two older than me.  They
hoped I'd ask them to hang around and use the pool, and  I figured
why not -- they were both cute.  They weren't the smartest boys
around, but still, good enough for me to practice being a girl on
them.  Ronnie, the tall one, he was into body building, and his
shoulders and legs showed some promising bulges even then.  Petey
was short and thin and not too hard to fake out -- I once beat him
at Indian wrestling because he went for a sucker shift-of-weight,
and then he fell for the same move a second time too.  It bothered
him, my faking him out, because I was only a girl.  He kept asking
me how I did it, and did I knew any other tricks.  I told him lots,
but that only girls can get away with using them.  That didn't stop
him, so I told him a few.  Maybe he's still trying them out.

     Anyhow, they were sweaty, and it was hot, so I told them sure,
we'd all use the pool.  Then it turned out they already had their
bathing suits and towels with them.  That annoyed me, because it
meant they were pretty sure I'd invite them to stay, and I don't
like anybody to feel pretty sure of anything when they're around
me.  But I let them think they were right as we splashed each
other, and laughed, and they tried to grope me, and I swam circles
around them.  

     Then came time for them to change back into their clothes.  We
were all three sitting around a big poolside patio table, and I
suggested we play a game.  They glanced at each other.  Petey
wagged his head at Ronnie, and Ronnie nodded, and then they both
grinned at me, and then there was a pause.  They had a plan.  I
tried to keep a straight face.  

     Then Petey asked me if I'd like to play "Show and Tell" with
them.  The way we play is, each person gets to ask the others to
show or tell about something personal or embarrassing, or to do
something like that.  All the players then have to do that same
thing, even the person doing the asking.  That's so no one will ask
for anything too far off the wall.  

     Well, what they'd want me to do was obvious enough.  I mean,
did I have to put on a red riding hood and take a walk through the
woods to figure that one out?  But I got this idea I wanted to try,
so I said "Sure."  

     They stole another quick look at each other, and Ronnie, he
said, "You're sure, now," and I said sharply, "I just said so,
didn't I?"  I wanted to get on with it.  Then a quick thought: "You
guys too, no chickening out by anyone!  And there's two of you, and
you each get to ask one thing, but there's only one of me, so to
even it out I get to ask two things of you guys, right?  That's
only fair."  Then I added, "You first, I'll go last."

     Well, they were so eager to play they didn't think through
whether that was fair or not.  I'd be getting two of whatever I
asked for each time, one from each of them each time, four all in
all.  But they'd get only one thing from me apiece.  So my taking
two turns wasn't really fair.  But they were thinking it was
themselves versus me, two boys versus one girl, not each of us
versus each other, so they couldn't add up two and two, so they
just nodded without thinking.  In a way they got what they
deserved.

     We sat around the big table and just looked at each other,
until finally Ronnie lost it and started to leer, and he said right
on schedule, "Me first.  Ok.  Stand up and show us your boobs,
JayCee.  Naked."

     Well, I was wearing a two piece bikini, and I still didn't
have much to show when I was fourteen.  My nipples were large and
pointy, but I was only beginning to swell out.  Still, given what
I had in mind for them, I had no problem exposing my tits.  I sort
of took center stage and started to untie my halter in back.  Then
just to make sure there'd be no misunderstandings, not now, not for
the rest of the game, I paused still holding my string ties
together and said, "You too, Ronnie.  You too, Petey."  

     They looked at me as if I'd gone weird, because they were both
already bare chested.  But finally they both stood up, and waited,
and then Ronnie thought to say, "Ok, that's how we are."   

     So I nodded and undid the rest of my bathing suit top, and
then held it out to the side at arm's length, and stood there with
my other hand on my hip.  Their eyes followed the top as I held it
out, then shifted back to my exposed nipples and the slightly round
mounds behind them.  They stared at me solemnly for a while, and
made whatever they could of what they saw.  

     Then Pete said, "OK, now my turn.  Show us your pussy, JayCee. 
Take off your bathing suit bottom."  He paused, then added,  "You
promised, remember?"  

     Talk about unsure?  He didn't think I'd do it, so he fired off
his reserve argument right off.  But he didn't need to worry.  "No
chickening out, that's what we said," I said.  I untied the two
side bows on my Bikini bottom.  Then I paused and waited.  "You
too," I said.

     Well, they'd been so eager to see what was between my legs
they forgot they'd have to drop their pants too, but they hesitated
only a moment.  A little embarrassed but with his eyes on the
prize, me, Ronnie pushed his bathing suit down to his knees, took
a deep breath, and stood up.  Then Pete.  It was sort of funny.
They both tried to stand up straight like me, shoulders back and
chest out and all, but they hunched over anyhow, as if they could
hide their private parts behind their bellies, and they finished in
a kind of half-crouch.  It was pathetic.  I let go the strings on
my bikini bottom and then pulled it off straight out from between
my legs.  Petey gasped!  Then I held the bottom to one side too,
with my other hand.  

     Now there I was, standing before them completely naked, arms
out, shoulders back, head high, looking straight into their eyes. 
Not that I didn't want to check out the scene further down on them. 
But in due time.  I knew that now, for what I meant to do, they had
to know who was in charge.  And it was odd.  I didn't feel any way
exposed or vulnerable or immodest, or even naked.  In fact the
reverse.  It was as if I were fully dressed, only in my skin, like
those nude women in those paintings over at the museum, those Greek
goddesses.  As if I were standing in front of a throne.  

     So I took over.  "All the way off," I said.  "Put your bathing
suits on the table."  And I put my bikini top and bottom down on
the table to set them an example, and then I stepped back a few
steps and put my both hands on my hips, legs a little apart, and I
stared at them again, and my bare tits stared at them too.  Still
embarrassed, they stripped down the rest of the way, then picked up
their bathing suits and put them on the table.  

     Ronnie tried again to pull his shoulders back and stand tall,
like me,  but when he straightened up his knees bent.   Pete was
having his own problems.  He was trying to cover his whole body
with just his hands.  "I can't see you," I said to him.  "Are you
ashamed?  Of what?"  I leaned back and cocked one hip at them, my
pelvis thrust forward, my hands still draped on my hips, and I
looked at them sideways amused, like girls I've seen in the movies
when they're playing seductive but hard-to-get.  Then when I saw
what I saw, I *was* amused. 

     There they were, both of them, naked penises at half-dangle,
balls shriveled and trying to hide behind their penises.  Pete's
prick had a pointed foreskin, but even with the extra flap it hung
only maybe half way down his balls.  It looked maybe only an inch
or so long, soft the way it was.  But Ronnie's big purple cock head
hung way down below his balls, maybe six inches down altogether,
maybe more.  

     I'd already seen my cousins' equipment the previous
Thanksgiving when we were all playing  "Show and Tell" together out
in back while the grownups watched football inside, so these were
no big deal.  Ronnie's and Petey's cocks looked just as silly,
hanging there between their legs.  I hadn't known that cocks could
vary that much in size, so that was something, anyhow.  And
Ronnie's was the biggest I'd seen yet, so that was something else.

     Meanwhile, they both stared fascinated at the vee of my
crotch, which then was just barely covered with tan fuzz.  There
was nothing else for them to see, just my fuzzy mound, and maybe
the beginning of my pussy, where the flat space disappears into the
crease tucked between my legs.  But they couldn't take their eyes
off it.  I suddenly realized that what they were staring at was for
them the unthinkable.  They saw nothing!  Nothing at all.  A smooth
curved surface unlike anything they'd ever seen between anyone's
legs.  No cock sprouting out of it, and no balls.  Nothing.  

     I suddenly realized that in some deep place way down inside
them, they were awed and a little frightened.  Here was the place
they'd come from, the same as their mothers', and that was
mysterious in itself.  But worse!  Here was what their own crotches
would look like if everything hanging there was cut off, missing,
gone.  They had cocks and balls, but I had nothing.  I had nothing
to lose.  They were exposed and at risk, and I wasn't.  It was as
if the worst thing they could imagine happening to them had already
happened to me, in some primordial way, yet I wasn't the least bit
bothered by it.  In fact I was completely at ease, and that made me
superior beyond their comprehension.  Was that why they
instinctively tried to hide themselves, and why I felt so powerful
at that moment?

     "Now my turn," I said. "I get two things to ask."  I looked at
their eyes.  They were both still staring down at my mystery,
silent, coping with their thoughts.  "Now, my first show and tell
is, show me how you guys masturbate."

     They both stiffened, surprised, and raised their eyes up to
look at me, and found I was already staring back at them steadily,
not even blinking.  I sensed in them a sudden tension I could use
if I could tip them the right way, so I decided to go for the gold. 


     "How you masturbate each other, I mean," I said, as if I were
completing my original sentence.  Then I sat down at the table and
waited, never taking my eyes off them, making myself into an
audience of one waiting for them to begin their performance.

     Well, as I'd expected, there were delaying tactics and
denials, a stream of "You're kidding, right?" and flat out "We
don't do each other," and "No way, Jose!" and so forth.  I gave
them a minute to vent and get used to the idea, even to think
they'd persuaded me, and then I cut them both off with "No
chickening out, remember?"  Then I couldn't resist.  "Even though
those little pricks do look like chicken skin, the necks when the
heads are chopped off!"  

     They flinched, but I kept looking at them steadily.  They
looked at me a moment longer, then averted their eyes and looked at
each other.  I had them!  Gently, even seductively, I added, "Just
reach over, you two, and pick up each other's cocks, and then show
me how you do it.  Pull very gently.  Be nice to each other!"

     Then they couldn't resist.  It was as if I were doing it to
them.    They didn't dare look at each other or say anything, but
they each edged closer, faces fixed in a sort of smiling grimace,
and Ronnie's hand reached out for Petey's little thing.  Ronnie
groped too high, so Petey took Ronnie's hand, pulled it further
down, lifted his cock, and placed it on Ronnie's palm.  Then Petey
looked at Ron's crotch, reached over, and tenderly cradled Ronnie's
long dingus in his whole hand.  Better than I'd hoped, I was
thinking.  They both stood still for a few seconds, each hand
getting used to the heft of an unfamiliar penis, each one aware
that the other had custody of his most prized possession.  Then
they each closed their hands on the other's cock and began to pull
back and forth, gently.  Soon the pricks swelled up to fit their
open fists, and then they had no more problems holding and pulling
or stroking them.  They closed their eyes.  Ronnie held the whole
of Petey in his hand, now all of four inches, and squeezed it
rhythmically, and Petey slid his palm up and down on Ronnie's long
monster as it got longer, and they each pulled and stroked, over
and over, and a slight smile came over each one's face.

     "This doesn't count as my second show and tell," I said. "But
wouldn't it be a little more friendly if you looked into each
others' eyes?"

     They opened their eyes and looked at me and then at each
other, a little evasive at first.  Then more directly at each
others' faces, as each one tried to concentrate his mind on the
pleasure the other was providing.  In a few minutes they were each
lost again in their own sensations, but now they were looking at
each other unashamed, even a little fondly.  It was so dear! 
Really, precious!  

     So I decided it was time for me to take care of my own slit,
which by now had gotten pretty slick.  There were two guys jerking
each other off under orders, mine, looking like they were in love! 
That alone was enough to get me going!  Also, I didn't want either
one of them to realize fair is fair, so one of them could do me
next, or I'd have to do both of them.

     So I licked my middle finger and pushed it into me, and then
when it was wet and slippery I diddled it back and forth across my
clit, flipping that little button faster and faster.  Real nice. 
I could feel myself mounting, oooh!, really reaching higher and
higher, and in another minute Oh! Wow! I shuddered into a delicious
orgasm, a tremendous squeezing and expanding of all of me all at
once, a kind of explosive celebration of my pussy by my whole body! 
My first one always comes fairly quick, but this was my strongest
ever, and it went on and on!  When I opened my eyes I saw that
Ronnie and Pete were still so absorbed with each other they'd never
even noticed.  They'd picked up the pace, and their breathing had
gotten faster and deeper, and now their hands were flying across
each other's crotches.  Each one's face was twisted as if in pain,
or in concentrated yearning.

     "Stop!"

     They froze, each one with his hand gripping the other's
swollen dong, and looked at me dazed.

     "Before you guys blow each other off, you should know what's
my second Show and Tell.  Now, my second one is, I want one of you
to fuck the other in the ass."

     They stared at me horrified.  Pete swallowed, and swallowed
again, but still couldn't say anything.  His eyes avoided mine and
stared into the middle distance.  Ronnie swallowed too, then stared
hard straight at me.  I noticed neither of them let go the other's
prick.  I suppose they were afraid if they did their fun might be
over, and by now they were both desperate to cum.  That's why I
thought I could get away with this.

     "You're kidding!" Pete said finally.  What he meant was,
"You're serious!"  

     "That's not fair," Ronnie said. "If we did that what would you
do?"  He was talking at least, single syllables, and just barely
thinking.  Does a boy's brain close down when his cock rises? 
Anyhow, he was opening a negotiation!  He was seriously considering
my proposal!

     I already had my answer.  "Whoever gets fucked can fuck me,"
I said.  "In the ass.  That's fair." 

     I knew that was the clincher.  Ronnie heard me loud and clear. 
I could tell by the way he was still staring into my face, his eyes
lit by speculations I couldn't myself imagine!  His cock lurched in
Petey's hand.  I bet both of these guys are virgins, I thought to
myself.  Well, my ass wasn't.  The previous Thanksgiving I'd traded
in its virginity to a cousin, for a baseball.  

     Well, it was a little more complicated, it happened this way. 
I'd gone off with that cousin, and had cheated on a game of
forfeits, and had gotten him to kneel between my legs and slide his
tongue in and out of my cunt while I was lounging back in a soft
chair with my thighs resting on his shoulders, reading a book as if
he didn't matter to me at all.  He looked so sorrowful and so
earnest, staring over my mound into my eyes while his mouth slurped
and sucked on me, and I felt so good with him down there, that I
let him know it when his tongue brought me off.  That was a
mistake, because then he felt good too, and wanted to fuck me.  I
told him no way with his prick, I was saving my pussy for my
husband and the father of my children.  He bought that argument,
and asked instead for a blow job.  Fair's fair, he pointed out, the
way kids always do.

     Well, just about then I'd been reading some stupid grownup
woman's magazine that said that cocksucking was servile worship of
the male phallus, and one of the ways men dominate women and keep
them subservient, and stuff.  I didn't know then that a phallus is
really like the control stick in an airplane -- once you take hold
of it you can fly a guy anywhere.  One lick and he's yours, he'll
do anything.  But I didn't know that.  I still didn't know it that
day with Ronnie and Petey by the swimming pool, when I was getting
them to play queer with each other.

     Anyhow, I'd told my cousin I wouldn't blow him, no way, I was
liberated and wouldn't demean myself.  Then with a sudden
inspiration I told him he could push into my asshole instead, if
he'd throw in the baseball with Babe Ruth's signature his father
kept in a little plastic shrine on the mantel.  I'd always envied
them that baseball, but mainly I was curious what it felt like to
have a guy inside me moving in and out, what all the fuss was
about.  There was no way I'd let him into my cunt, because then
he'd forever after lord it over me that he'd been Number One.  Boys
do that.  My asshole he'd never boast about, because at that age
most boys still think a back door is a shithole, and yukky.  But
he'd just been down there inspecting everything with his mouth and
nose, and he knew that after my pussy my rosebud was the next best
thing.  So he agreed.

     And he did it.  We got him oiled up, and he got in after only
a little bit of trouble, and he felt real good in there, but barely
two swipes in and out and he came into me and then all over my ass. 
I was disappointed, but didn't let on.  He told me later that his
father really belted his ass over and over for supposedly playing
with that baseball and then losing it, but that getting into me
made it all worth while.  I was his first.  He was grateful, the
way I like guys to be when they've done what I want them to do. 
The way I expected Ronnie and Petey to be when I was finished with
them.  I always give satisfaction.

     Well, Ronnie just stood there staring at me, his dong still
stiff in Petey's hand, its purple head poking out into the
sunshine, and I could see that wheels were whirring in his brain. 
A chance to stick it to a girl at last!  Or into Petey?  But at
what price?  

     Petey may not have registered any of it yet, that whoever gets
fucked gets to fuck me.  "You haven't whacked off yet, JayCee," he
said, maybe stalling for time.  "Or whatever it is girls do."  

     "Oh, yes I have," I said.  "I came.  You two lovers were too
busy with each other to notice."  I pushed two fingers into my
quim, pulled them out gleaming wet, then stood up, walked over, and
held them under Pete's nose.  "What do you think this is?  Or
wouldn't you know?"  I wiped my juice on his upper lip so the smell
would last and maybe he'd get to like it, and then I gave Ronnie
his chance, drenching my fingers a second time and then holding
them up to his mouth.  "Suck on this!"  I commanded.  He did, as if
he were licking a candy cane.  "You can do it, Ronnie," I told him
in a low, sultry voice.  "Be Pete's girl, for me."

     I won that gamble too.  I'd figured that Ronnie would
calculate even in his coma that Pete's little cock shoved into him
was a small price to pay to get his big one into me.  I hoped so,
but I didn't want him feeling too macho about it.  Now whatever he
did, he'd be following my orders.  Better, in his own mind he'd be
the girl who got laid, or he'd think I was thinking that.  And once
a girl in your own mind, I was thinking, always a girl.  Once
fucked, always fucked.  I'll have to remember to call his cock a
clit, I thought, and later I'll have to ask how his pussy felt with
Pete's cum still leaking out of it.  Because I had other uses for
him now that I'd seen how obediently he'd licked pussy juice from
my fingers.  He'd be handy to have around when I felt like slinging
my legs over someone's shoulders.  More manageable than a cousin. 

     Ronnie finally decided.  He pulled a few more times on Pete's
pecker, then leaned in and muttered something to him, and then
turned toward me.  "He'll need lube of some kind, or he'll hurt me,
JayCee" he said.  His voice sounded very respectful. "How about we
use some more of your juice?"

end 1/9
Vickie Tern@AOL.COM

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