Date: Sun, 13 Feb 2022 16:43:01 +0100
From: Kachar Ricuchi <kacharricuchi@gmail.com>
Subject: Cindy, Laura and I: a threesome 45

LV/45

As I approached my fifteenth birthday I started to yearn for the need to
have my own, natural breasts. I had started with the hormones some ten
months before and they had, so far, reduced the hair all over my body.
The stubble of soft hair over my face had disappeared and I had started
to soften some angles in my face. But I needed my tits. And none had
sprouted so far. I had played with inserting silicone tits of every size
in my bra and had really felt comfortable and sexy with discreetly sized
ones. I wanted to keep my very sensitive nipples which had kept me happy
and horny. I believed implants would disrupt that. A finger hovering over
my large nipples would make my cock go hard which at a single touch. The
boys I was playing with and who enjoyed penetrating me from behind did
not pay any attention to my nipples, squarely ignored my cock (never a
touch, never a pat) and refused to give me any pleasure except through my
ass with their cocks --and of course, you can imagine, not a tongue ever
approached my ass, ever. I needed those things. I was getting tired of
the guys, also because their hormones were raging and they were getting
too rough for my taste. I mean, my ass also needed some careful handling
which they disregarded completely. It was my task to make sure I was well
lubed so to avoid any troubles. I wanted more and more to be their girl
but I was to be just the queer boy that liked to be sodomized. It was no
use: they would never see me as one, and much less treat me as one. Not
that they treated other girls well. Antoine was also getting tired.
Antoine was my sole male friend. Antoine provided me all those pleasures.
He would also prepare me for the sessions sometimes, helping me to
distend my sphincter with ointments and his fingers in advance as we knew
when the sessions would happen --in the showers after gym class. But more
often he would help me heal with more ointments. We had spent the last
three years very close to each other, and he was by far my best lover. He
was jealous of the other guys; but he was angrier at the way they treated
me (and, in passing, angry with me at the way I insisted to keep on being
open to others). We were intimate, but not as much as he liked. I would
end very sore some days and he would just cure me. He would refuse to
enter me in those conditions. Even in his gentle ways he knew it would
hurt too much. And the sad thing really is that as I healed I would go
again give myself to the wild boys. When I was horny with Antoine, and I
was sore, it would be me that would fuck him. It was a special moment for
my cock: it seemed to rise to life with Antoine, and it felt right with
him. He was soft, he was tight, he was welcoming and I felt how much he
liked it. Unlike me, he never gave himself to the boys. I was exclusive
for Antoine at a time when I still had never been with a girl. Antoine
knew that I liked girls and that as I became one I would start searching
for one. In our lovemaking he did not mind that I whispered to him the
words I had imagined I would say to my first girl. And I hoped my first
girl would be one like myself. As I penetrated Antoine deep, I would have
his balls in my hand thinking how good a pair of girl's ball felt. I
came inside him with immense pleasure, thinking of a girl's ass. He knew
he was my girl in those moments, and panted like one. I would also suck a
lot on his nipples which, like mine, were very sensitive. My cock, I was
sure, would never have worked with any of the boys, in the remote chance
one of them asked for it. In fact, it never got hard as they pounded me.
Only with Antoine would it rise. The fact is that we complemented each
other and felt deep affection for one another. But we knew that at some
point we would have to split: he yearned to be with a man, and I wished
to be with a woman. We had learned so much from each other; we had
shielded ourselves from outsiders fairly well --except when I agreed to
let them fuck me. Antoine knew that those sessions were transgressive
--sometimes he spoke aggressively of them because of the harm they caused
me. They gave me a weird --sadistic? sense of pleasure, more so when he
said, rightly so, that he was able to give me genuine emotional and
physical love. He knew what he was talking about. But I had become
addicted to their cocks. Antoine was not enough. Yet I knew that I had to
stop being a slut. If not, I would lose Antoine and I would lose my
dreams --not to mention the health of my asshole. How was I to appeal to
a woman if they knew I was periodically fucked by scores of boys? I
needed to heal in so many ways. Antoine would be there for me, but not
for long. I knew that the moment I decided to be feminine all-round, even
as I gave up the violent, senseless fucking sessions, he would stop
fucking me and leave. He wanted a boy, slightly effeminate perhaps, but a
male lover.

This moment came in the form of nipples! We were lying naked and
exhausted on my bed. We had been fucking on a holiday, the day of gym
class, so I needed to have some cock and, as usual, when my asshole was
in shape, Antoine was magnificent. He rode me from behind. He then
continued from the front lifting my legs in the air. He finally finished
by filling me from behind again. I noticed that as he was facing me
pumping hard his sight was on my chest. He had noticed. A few days before
I myself had felt that I was starting finally to blossom on the chest
department. As I massaged myself with my hands exploring my tits while I
masturbated I noticed that there was some discrete mass growing. I was
ecstatic. Perhaps this is finally the launch of my wished new body; I was
going to look like a girl. Face and generous ass cheeks were already
there. "I think you are growing some tits" he said. "Yes I am, I am
super happy" I answered. And then he added "I bet you are, but, even in
you, they are a bit of a turn off for me". "I get it...does that mean
you do not like me anymore?" I knew what was coming. I knew of his
dislike to breasts. "Please like me a bit more. They are still small and
who knows if they will keep growing" I begged. "You know you are
special to me, but you are looking more and more like a girl. I will not
leave you yet, but you have to stop searching for cheap ass fucking at
school." So there I was: at a crossroads where I would either become a
girl ready in search for something new or, rather, stay as the slut of
school where nothing new that I did to my body would matter. If anything,
growing tits would probably generate a situation at school that would not
end well. I still had Antoine for a few months but I needed to withdraw
from current tastes in my life so I could start my path as a woman
without his help. I foresaw the coming days where I would start looking
for girls; girls that would like girls like me.

PS 18. I had a feeling. I had a premonition. Alice was not a girl like
any other. I could not prove it. Her baggy clothing in Yoga, top and
bottom, were clearly aimed to hide it. Would she fear what I thought
about it? She had come down for dinner and we drank a lot. My wife sat
very close to her and started kissing her in the neck, then on the cheeks
and then on the mouth. A long kiss. Their mouths opened and explored each
other. Their hands started touching, and Alice's hand went fast to my
wife's large breasts.