This chapter describes the first stages of Martina's burgeoning sexuality and her deepening relationship with Melanie.
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Martina’s Story.

Chapter 2
List of Characters.

Myself. Martina, A sexually dysphoric child whose sexuality has not
yet been ascertained but who chooses to present as a girl.

Beverly My adoptive ‘aunt’ who is a mature shemale and my most supportive adult friend.

Chenille My older half sister.

Jennifer Aunt Beverly’s adopted daughter.

Beatrice Aunt Beverly’s second adopted daughter and Jennifer’s younger sister.

Sian. My lesbian mother who is married to —

Margaret Who is Chenille’s lesbian mother.

Sissy. My and Chenille’s transvestite shemale father.

Sandie. My doctor, psychiatrist and sexual counsellor.

Judge Elizabeth Porter. The judge who ruled that I should be allowed to live and dress as a girl.

Angela Hunt. Jennifer and Beatrice’s natural blood mother who is now married to Aunt Beverly who is a shemale.

Baroness Wemite’ Sian’s old School Chum

Peter Baroness Wemite’s son

Melanie Baroness Wemite’s daughter and my best school friend.

Rosemary & Monika. Two bullies in the junior school.

Lucinda A previous victim of the two bullies

Gertrude & Daisy Our remaining other study mates.

During the first two years of my time in St Angie’s junior school, nothing much happened. Because we were day students, there was little opportunity for my dysphoric condition to be discovered. Things changed however, when Beatrice, Melanie and I entered the senior school and we became boarders along with our older sisters Chenille and Jennifer.

It was an exciting day when we arrived at the school complete with our school trunks and we finally made our way to our allotted dormitories. Fortunately, Miss Frobisher, the headmistress had persuaded the school governors to adopt a new boarding policy. In keeping with improved housing conditions where most children now expected to have their own bedrooms, this situation was reflected in most public boarding schools. The days of the long rows of beds in one long dormitory were disappearing. Now long draughty halls were being subdivided up into smaller units of six, four or two beds per study. Each dormer unit comprised, beds, wardrobes study desks and some seating. At St Angies, we also revelled in the luxury of each unit having en-suite’ bath, shower and lavatory. The downside was that we had to clean them ourselves and woe betide -. Weekly inspections by Matron Warburton ensured cleanliness next to godliness.

Along with improved accommodation, Miss Frobisher had adopted a new policy of allowing classmates to pick their friends and share the units. This inevitably put Beatrice, Melanie, Lucinda, me and two other girls in our own six bed-roomed unit whilst Chenille and Jennifer shared the four-bed dormitory next door with two of their middle school friends. The bullies Moniker and Rosemary were now housed in a totally different block.

On each landing at the top of each stairs there was a two-bed unit that served as sentry posts for the prefects. This arrangement served very well and bullying was virtually eliminated. The trouble was that it also made it difficult for any other illicit fun if any girls on that particular landing wanted to raid a dorm on another landing or more importantly another house.
Like most British public schools, there were four houses in St Angela’s, and each house was dormered in a separate block.
Common rooms were on the ground floor and that was were most of the school socialising took place outside study periods. Closer friendships were shared in the shared study bedrooms. This was the set up when I finally became a boarder at age eleven.
I had anticipated my becoming a boarder with mixed feelings. The idea of sharing my life at every social level with five other girls made me excited but nervous. The hardest part would be keeping my physical attributes a secret but fortunately girls are not as open about their bodies as boys. Whereas most men are quite content to walk about nude after sport or during showers, girls tend to be a bit more sensitive about their bodies. More importantly, they tend to respect other girls feelings and they don’t usually indulge in the same invasive degree of so called ‘high jinks’. If a girl is a bit sensitive about any aspect of their body, then most other girls tend to leave them alone. Strangely, most of my classmates were a little wary of me.

Lucinda and I had started developing tits and curves first so the other girls were rather envious of our development. When I accidentally ‘flashed’ my boobies there would be a ripple of envious furtive glances but this tended only to keep the other girls away. I suppose they would hesitate to try and ‘de-bag’ me because retaliation might expose their lesser endowments and the other girls might snigger at smaller boobs. Fortunately neither Lucinda nor I were extraordinarily large so neither was there an excuse to pick on us because they were too big. We were both secretly proud of our very pretty and firm, pointy boobies.
Additionally, we four, Melanie, Lucinda, Beatrice and I stuck together and I usually bagged the end corner shower cubicle after gym. Our other two study mates were also very close friends and they formed a sort of additional ring of defence when the class was showering after games or gym. It was virtually impossible for the bullies, Moniker and Rosemary to get at us if we stuck together. Besides, the rest of the class were secretly glad of our six strong group, for it served to monitor the bullying and prevent Moniker and Rosemary gathering enough cronies to overwhelm a single individual.

As far as games and gymnastics were concerned, my secret remained safe as long as we six hung together.
Naturally, Beatrice was always close by my side during showers and changing times. It was to her advantage to protect my precious secret. If my discovery led to a scandal, she, Jennifer and Chenille would inevitably be sucked in.
The first hint of a problem was Melanie’s burgeoning sexuality. At first we put her excessive tactility down to a strong sense of affection but eventually we remaining five realised that there was a little more to her affection. At first it amounted to little more than the previous embraces, followed by the same exploration of titties and nipples. We all secretly enjoyed playing with our titties and provided it went no further, we other five girls were comfortable. In truth we none of us found this to be too invasive. We were all experiencing puberty and the natural curiosity in our own bodies as we became aware of the pleasures our bodies could give us in addition to the other side, namely the monthly discomforts.

The girls all knew that I had some sort of problem because of the medications I had to take. However, Doctor Sandie had thoughtfully arranged for my pills to be clearly recognisable by their shape and colour so I knew exactly what pills to take and when, without recourse to checking the names of any drugs. The lack of any descriptive labels or identities on the drug packets prevented the other girls from recognising the hormonal nature of my medicines. Only Beatrice knew what the drugs where for and she wasn’t telling.

Nevertheless, despite our natural shared curiosity with our bodies, it was apparent that Melanie’s interest was becoming more invasive. At first, it was a simple matter for any of us to simply refuse her discreet beseechments to ‘go a little further’ but the trouble was she was clever about it. A casual private embrace whilst alone in the study with say individual ‘y’ might go a fraction further than ‘y’ was comfortable. After a mild protest by the offended ‘y’, Melanie might sometimes apologies but at other times protest that she wasn’t going any further than she and ‘x’ had gone a few days before.

At first, the offended ‘y’ might fall for this and allow Melanie’s inquisitive fingers to explore that fractional bit further. Then she would be angry with herself if perchance, she spoke privately with ‘x’ to confirm if Melanie had really gone that bit further. Occasionally, ‘x’ might confess that she had because Melanie had previously told her she had gone to that base with ‘a' or ‘b’ and so the stratergem worked. The only one she never made progress with was me, for I had to protect myself at all costs.

At first, resistance was easy, the other four girls were equally reluctant to accept Melanie’s advances, but slowly as the year progressed, curiosity and the discovery of ‘orgasms’ amongst the other girls, gave Melanie a greater freedom. In truth, it was Melanie who introduced us all to the discovery of orgasms and the girls naturally felt a bit guilty if they protested about her other advances, when in truth they somehow felt beholden to Melanie for showing them the delights.

Gradually, they grew to accept Melanie’s advances but with this acceptance came the inevitable guilt. They all knew it
was ‘wrong’ for girls to ‘do it’ but their needs and frustrations gradually broke down their inhibitions as their libidos grew. Eventually, they began to suspect me of being some sort of freak for not allowing Melanie to share the pleasures to which they had all become addicted. Naturally of course, these explorations expanded to include the other girls exploring amongst themselves and even Beatrice found it hard to resist the delights. She understood my dilemma but it was increasingly hard for her to protect my puritan objections. Having been sucked in herself, the other girls accused her of being a hypocrite in defending my refusal to participate.

The other aspect was of course the increasing ‘openness’ that we developed as our intimacies developed. It was hard for any of us to declare modesty and demand privacy when the other five had already achieved varying stages of intimacy. In the first year from eleven to twelve, my ‘modesty’ was not a serious issue but by the second year, the other girls began to think I was dysfunctional in my obsessive preoccupation with always wearing my regulation school knickers. These were the only type of knickers that could properly hide my male secret, which was already taped back to make it resemble a vulva under the thick maroon cotton.

The problem was that by the age of thirteen, my ‘equipment’ was beginning to resemble a proper cock and it was getting increasingly difficult to hide it by folding it back. Furthermore, my libido was causing me to sprout erections at the most in-opportune times and this was becoming painful. The worst possible time was during gym, when we all exercised in our tight fitting leotards and my taped back ‘boy clitty’ strained for release when I found myself watching the delicious butt of a classmate as she bounced around the gym.

This just couldn’t go on.

Already I was getting a reputation for suddenly having to ‘go to the toilet’ whilst doing gymnastics. The gym mistress’s tolerance towards my apparent incontinence was beginning to attract the resentment of other girls, especially as they were not excused during their periods. The gym mistress of course, knew of my ‘condition’ and took every possible step to protect my secret but the whole situation was becoming an issue in the class. What was more, Rosemary and Monika, the classroom bullies, were discovering this issue to be a useful device to further their bullying. I was becoming a target.

Fortunately, Doctor Sandie’s hormones had a useful side effect for me. My advanced sexual development ran parallel with an enhance growth spurt. I was the second tallest girl in the class and it would have been difficult if not impossible for the two bullies to overpower me alone. To do this, they would need their cronies. To this end, we four friends still stuck together, for I had finally explained to them that my medical condition made me wary of any sexual adventures. This mystery whilst intriguing my roommates, also garnished their sympathy, particularly Lucinda’s and Lucinda was now the tallest girl in the class. My safety lay not entirely with my height but also with the support of my friends. I might add that whilst I was tall, I was also one of the curviest most effeminate girls in class.

Unfortunately my effeminacy also made we extremely attractive to Melanie whose alternative sexuality was manifesting a libidinous vigour with every growing week. Melanie’s carnal interest in her roommates was developing into a pre-occupation that was getting more difficult to control and suppress. It was reaching a stage where we other five girls were becoming wary of ever entering her study area alone.

Within each dormitory, the individual spaces were partially sectioned off to provide a modicum of privacy whilst simultaneously making sure that none of the junior or middle girls could find themselves isolated and or vulnerable to just such uninvited advances. The problem was that putting her homosexuality aside; Melanie was a very likeable and popular girl. I found myself particularly attracted to her vivacious personality not to mention her good looks and delightful hourglass figure. Melanie was the epitome of the gorgeous lipstick lesbian. Additionally, she made no secret of being more sexually interested in me than the others because of my own feminine appearance and willowy curves. In fact Beatrice, Lucinda and Gertrude and Daisy were more than happy that Melanie appeared to have eyes mainly for me. The only reason she made passes at the other four was because I still defended myself against any uninvited intimacies further than titillation of my ripe, firm, curvy breasts and sensitive nipples. Every time her fingers optimistically explored further, I would whimper my protests and firmly guide her hand away. It was nerve-racking for me and totally frustrating for Melanie. In her desperate efforts to win my confidence and trust, she even invited me to explore her secret places as a hopeful precursor to my extending the same privileges to her. Until I was thirteen, I managed to allay her advances and resist her own invitations. However, there are few defences that remain standing for ever; even the walls of Troy were eventually breached. Whatever the tactics, force, treachery or subterfuge, eventually the best defences will crack.

In my and Melanie’s eternal contest it was the ‘enemy within’ that finally betrayed the defences, namely my hormones and libido.
It was a cold wintery Saturday morning and the other girls were playing hockey for the junior ‘under fourteen’s’. St Angies was playing against another school and the teams had risen early. Our dormitory was quiet except for myself and Melanie and we were anticipating a quiet day.

We were later to go trekking with the ponies but that was not until after lunch so we each savoured the warmth of our beds. Perhaps we should have been doing our preps but that could wait. It was still not yet eight and we had until nine before breakfast was served on a Saturday. I lay under my duvet savouring the quiet peace and gently exploring my secret places.
I heard Melanie stirring and recognised her own secret activities. I smiled to myself and called softly to her.

“Are you busy?”

There was a long pregnant silence before she answered cautiously.

“Uuuhh, yes why.”

“What shall we do this morning?” I offered.

Melanie recognised the cautious ‘invitation’ in my question.

“What d’you want to do?”

“Shall we chat about it?”

Melanie recognised the unspoken invitation for her to come into my cubicle and I heard the rustle of her silky nightie as she slid out of her bed. Her own way of announcing her expectations was to leave her dressing gown off so that she would be cold if she had to simply sit on the edge of my bed as we chatted. When she appeared around the dividing partition she was clad only in her short ‘baby doll’ nightie and skimpy lacy panties. Her curves screamed to be invited into my bed. My eyes filled up appreciatively and I hesitated for only a moment as she loomed over me expectantly. I looked up under the hem of her baby-doll to notice the slightly damp spot on her panties where she had been busy. I suspected that she had deliberately stood so close with the hem of her nightie over my head to reveal her condition.

“Are you horny?” I continued boldly, knowing full well that the earlier rhythmic ‘thumping’ in her cubicle had been Melanie’s efforts to relieve her frustrations. Melanie was desperately seeking a lesbian friend to share her later years as a senior.

“Yes.” She croaked softly. “You know I am.”
I smiled sympathetically for I was the nearest thing she had to a sexual partner. Despite, my refusal to allow her into my knickers, I was the only ‘girl’ who would allow her to play with my breasts without any protest or guilt.
The other four girls were not that happy about Melanie’s advances and only indulged if they thought they were ‘falling behind’ in the sexual adventure stakes. I on the other hand I often let Melanie play with my titties and regularly played with hers.

Even though the other girls had actually gone further and explored each other’s knickers, it was purely an experimental curiosity stemming from the lack of available boys to practice their experimentations on. There was usually no sexual attraction connected to the experiments. I on the other hand often let Melanie slip in beside me when my boy-clitty was securely taped back and there was little risk of being ‘discovered’. She savoured these secret intimate moments and usually found considerable relief. The Saturday mornings, when the other girls played hockey at an away venue, were always a particularly special time for we two. Beatrice of course, knew about these circumstances and she was constantly telling me to be careful. To date I had been successful but that morning my burgeoning libido was to finally betray me.

I smiled and pulled back the edge of my duvet to invite her into my bed. Melanie seized the invitation and immediately slid in beside me,

“Oh!” I squeaked. “You’re cold!”

“Well warm me up then,” she giggled.

Within moments we were tightly embraced as she slithered her soft smooth legs against my silky all-in-one and we lay savouring the brief peace before our urgent fingers started to busy themselves with our nipples.

Naturally, I felt my boy clitty stiffening but I felt secure that she was well tucked back and incapable of escaping the taped bonds and reinforced panel of my control panty. Melanie had always giggled at the thought of my wearing a control panty under my knickers but it was a substitute for a gaff that would have been a total give-away. Most of the girls knew about my control panty but only Beatrice understood the real reason. The other girls just accepted it as a result of my gynaecological problems and never asked because it embarrassed me. Well of course, my condition did embarrass me, but its revelation would have shocked all the other girls.

That morning, I was wearing my silky ‘all-in-one’ sleep suit over my control panty, just as Aunty Beverly had shown me.
In passing, I must add that once the other girls had seen our all-in-ones, they were soon asking where they could buy them. That morning Melanie was particularly horny and her fingers fiddled urgently with the laces on my sleep suit.

Eventually my ripe firm boobies popped free and she sighed ecstatically.

“Gosh, your titties are nice,” she whispered.

“Mmmm, so are yours,” I replied.

She thrust her pelvis urgently against mine and gasped eagerly.

“I wish you would do me properly down there.”

I fell silent. In truth, I was becoming more interested in further sexual experimentation and I wondered what it was like to feel a girl down there.

‘Why was it so wet?’ I kept asking myself, ‘and where did those juices come from?’ For despite several years of sharing my room and often my bed with Jenny, Chenille and Beatrice in my earlier years, the girls had always recognised what I was and prevented any further explorations. Besides that, our mummies had warned them and me of the dangers of getting too close to me in that respect.

Inevitably as my libido grew, I became more curious about real girls. I knew exactly how titties felt. Heaven knows, my own were sensitive enough and very attractive. I always caught boys staring at them. It was a giggle to watch their eyes flicking from my face to my tits as they tried to decide what made me more attractive. I had also noticed the same curiosity in Melanie’s eyes but being a girl, she was far better at hiding her curiosity and not staring stupidly like some slobbering mesmerised puppy.

Now we were cuddled up in bed together whilst the rest of the dormitory was away playing hockey, I sighed as my boy clitty stiffened painfully under my control panty. As Melanie’s knowing lips played softly with my nipples, I gasped with pleasure and reluctantly separated from her tender embrace.

“I’ve got to go to the loo,” I said.

“Oh go on then,” she whispered irritably.

“Don’t be angry, I’m coming back.”

“Good. We’ve got an hour yet before breakfast.”

I stumbled to the loo and urgently freed my boy clitty from the painful compression in my crotch. It was difficult sitting down and tinkling whilst my boy clitty demanded to poke up but after forcing her down I finally relieved myself without splashing anywhere. Then I wiped her and allowed her to grow in freedom before gently pulling my panties up.

The stiff pole tented the control panel in the front of my panties but I checked in the mirror and decided it was not too obvious. After pulling up my all-in-one, I returned to bed.

“Oh! You're cold!” Melanie giggled.

“Then warm me,” I giggled back as I snuggled into her embrace.

Her lips returned to my breasts and I twitched eagerly as she led my own fingers to her nipples.
After some silent pleasuring Melanie sighed.

“You’ve got the nicest tits on our dorm.”

“Mmmm. Thank you darling,” I replied.

“It’s a pity you wont go further.”

I lay silently considering her veiled suggestion and something must have switched or clicked inside me. Perhaps it was that next rung on the ladder of my libido. Whatever it was, after a short silent interlude I decided to explore a little further. Melanie seemed to sense my feelings for she slackened her embrace and allowed enough room for my hand to gently slide down her body. It was several long seconds before my fingers released her nipples and then my hand slowly traced a nervous path towards the waistband of her baby-doll panties.

Melanie gasped eagerly and squirmed to accommodate my nervous fingers as she sensed her little victory. I hesitated at her waistband and she whispered encouragement.

“Don’t be shy. It’s really nice.”

“You won’t expect to do it to me will you?” I asked.

“Why not. You’ll like it.”

“No! No! Not yet!” I protested. “I -, I’m not ready for that yet. Not yet, not ever maybe.”

“Oh don’t be such a scaredy baby!”

“Nothing happens. It’s OK for girls. It’s not like we can get pregnant or stuff.”

Melanie must have felt me tense but misinterpreted my fears. She tried encouraging me again.

“Do you still think it’s wrong?”

I nodded nervously as I tried to allay my true fears.

“OK then,” she continued, “I’ll just let you do it to me, but I wont do it back. By the way do you like kissing?”

“Of course,” I replied, “who doesn’t?”

“Would you be really daring and kiss me down there?”

“No. Not yet. Maybe some other time.”

As I said this as my fingers had finally reached the warm slippery cleft and Melanie squeaked with delight as I found the strange, stiff little bud nestled between two soft wet folds. I knew what it was for we girls had often talked about stuff, but this was the first time I had ever felt anybody’s but Beatrice’s. Melanie squirmed as I fingered the bud and gently pressed it against the bony crest of her pubis.

“Ooh that’s nice, just like that, yes, squeeze it gently and flick your finger across it. Oooh! That’s right! Is that how you do it?” She asked.

For a moment I was puzzled then realised she was asking me how I masturbated myself. Because she still thought I was a girl, she assumed I played with my self this way. In truth, I was in totally new territory but I had once heard Jennifer describe to Chenille how she did it. I hoped I was doing it right.

Melanie squirmed eagerly and thrust her mons-venus against my fingers urgently so I presumed I must have been doing something right. Then she shocked me.

“Have you got something to put inside me?” She croaked.

I froze for a moment before realising her request. Melanie obviously used some sort of artificial cock but certainly didn’t have one.

“I’m sorry. No I don’t. Do you use one then?”

“Yes,” she confessed, “it makes me come faster.”

“Shall I go and get yours then?” I offered.

“No. Just keep doing that. I’ll come soon.”

I took her cue and resumed fingering her delightfully stiff little bud. Eventually, Melanie let out a soft whimper that grew to a low moan as I felt her heart thundering under her tits. She ‘humped’ eagerly against my hand for several minutes until her orgasm slowly subsided. Then I realised there was a wet patch under her butt where her juices had flooded. When she finally moved she felt the patch and cursed.

“Damn! We’ll have to change your sheets. Where are your tissues?”

Fortunately in my pretence of living as a girl, I always kept tissues by my bed. Now I realised why girls did this. I reached for the box and grabbed a handful for Melanie to dry herself. It was the first time I had gotten a good view of Melanie’s girl parts but I disguised my curiosity by offering to help wipe her. I had often seen my sister’s tight secretive slit but this revealed little; now I had a chance to view the sweet red petals of Melanie’s engorged labia as she and I gently wiped the glistening juices.
She sensed my interest and giggled.

“D’you want to lick it dry?”

My curiosity overtook me and I nodded self-consciously. Melanie took her cue and lay back with her thighs parted as I stretched forwarded and extended a cautious tongue.

“Lick my clitty first.” She begged as my tongue protruded forward cautiously.

To do this I had to peel her labia apart and gently diddle the still hard bud with my tongue. Melanie squealed with delight then coquettishly pushed my head away.

“Gosh! Stoppit! If you do it like that, I’ll come again with another flood. Just lick the juices away.”

I did as she asked and finally wiped her girly parts clean. Then we studied the wet patch.

“Has it gone through to the mattress?” She wondered.

“I doubt it. I keep a draw sheet under the linen one.”

“Why?” Asked Melanie curiously.

In truth it was in case I stained the sheets if I had a wet dream or any other unexpected accident for sometimes I only slept in panties. I explained that my ‘condition’ sometimes led to ‘accidents.

“Do you wet yourself then?” Asked Melanie.

“No. Not like that. I don’t pee in the bed, but sometimes, my juices escape during the night.”

Melanie accepted this. She had no idea what my real ‘medical condition’ was.
Anything ‘down there’ was deemed ‘girl’s problems’ and not broached unless the girl herself chose to discuss it. This was one of the nice things about being a girl. They could be sympathetic about anything gynaecological. With the wet patch preventing further cuddling, we stripped my bed and later took the linen to the school laundry for an exchange. At breakfast we kept smiling at each other as we ate voraciously. Sex it seemed brought on a huge appetite. Finally we joined the Saturday pony trek over the Dumplin and across the downs.

Because we knew the area intimately, the other girls always wanted to ride with us and talk about the area. Usually it was licentious scandal about the local people and any gossip we might know. The other thing was if there were any farmer’s sons in any of the farms we passed. Despite there being little hope of meeting any boys, the riding party always lived in hope and our local connections were always deemed to be an additional opportunity to be ‘introduced’. In truth, we did know several boys from the surrounding farms and the other girls were always excited if we met them out riding on the downs.
Very occasionally, Melanie’s older brother Peter came home with a friend for the weekend. Invariably the school party met them because Melanie knew exactly where and when Peter would be out riding. Melanie and I used to smile knowingly when a whole class of young teenaged girls met two very dateable boys out riding. It was hilarious to watch the antics of the girls and Melanie later described Peter’s thoughts when they dined at home that Saturday evening.

But I digress. Nous retournos nous moutons!

That particular morning was the first step of my ascent into sexual liberation. It was not long after that, that Melanie finally learned my big secret.

A fortnight later when the rest of our dorm was playing another early, Saturday hockey game against another school, Melanie crept into my cubicle and slipped into my bed. This time she came armed with extra tissues, a towel and something that I recognised immediately it was an artificial cock.

“Where did you get that?” I gasped curiously.

“It’s one that my cousin got. She doesn’t know I stole it from her bedroom last Christmas.”

“You’re not going to use that on me.” I protested.

“No. I know you’re a scaredy cat. It’s for me.”

“Gosh it’s big. Will that go in?”

“You heard what Mrs Warburton the matron told us during hygiene lessons. You’ve seen how big a baby is.”

I fingered it curiously then Melanie gave the base a twist. The thing started vibrating and I squeaked with surprise.

“Oooh! You kinky thing,” I giggled. Does it work?” I asked.

“Of course it works! I’ve used it lots of times. D’you want to borrow it?”

“Uh. No thanks. Not really. It looks a bit big to me.”

The idea of having that thing anywhere near me left me horrified. There was only one place it could go. I had never had anything up there before and I had no intentions to start. It would have split my arsehole in two.

“Well, it’s your loss. D’you want me to show you?”

“Not on me. You use it.”

Melanie shrugged her shoulders and snuggled in beside me. Naturally we started as always with tits. It had become our way of getting in the mood and Melanie respected my slow cautious approach. After enough foreplay, I finally slipped my hands down the waistband of her panties. She was already slippery and from our hygiene lessons I knew she was ready for sex.

“Shall I put it in straight away?” I asked.

“No. I’ll do it. You watch.”

We slid back the duvet and Melanie slipped off her panties to reveal her glistening labia and stiff little bud. Gently she placed the tapered end against her love lips then gently rotated it as it slid deep into her tight eager sex.

“Play with my clitty,” she whispered as she switched it on and it started to vibrate.
I did as she asked and gently lowered my tongue onto the protruding bud.

“Aaiiee!” She squealed as her hips started to bump and grind. “Oooh! That’s good!”

I sat up but she tugged my hair and drove my mouth hard against her mons as she feverishly ascended into nirvarna. The dildo vibrated against my jaw so I stiffened my tongue and partially transferred the vibrations to her clitty. My jaw and the dildo vibrated slightly out of synch-and this doubled the frequency against Melanie’s stiff little clitty. She gave a howl of delight and exploded into a frenzy of bucking and squirming that left me struggling to remain attached.

“Ooooh. Shit! That’s good. Oooh yes! Hold on, I’m coming! I’mm coooominng! Don’ le-ggo. Keep goin’. Yes! Ooooh!”

I struggled to grip her hips as I pressed feverishly into her sex whilst she gripped my ears desperately and repeatedly drove my mouth into her very core. For long minutes, Melanie humped and squealed until finally she began to tire. By this time I was shattered. My jaw ached and my ears felt as though they had been torn with the force of Melanie’s grip. When she finally slumped with satiation, I collapsed between her thighs and felt her juices gurgling and bubbling inside her tormented maw. Fortunately the towel and tissues served well and my sheets remained unblemished.

After we had recovered, I slid up to nestle in her arms. Melanie squinted sideways at my clock and offered to help me.

“We’ve still got half an hour, do you want to try?” She asked.

“No. I can’t I’m a virgin. This thing’s too big.”

“No, not this, I could just try fingering you. That won’t hurt. I won’t even go inside you if you’re frightened of loosing your cherry.”

“But it’s wrong,” I protested feebly.

“Oh don’t be daft!” protested Melanie, “You’ve just been as intimate with me as anybody can be. What are you ashamed of?”

I lay silent and still, a condition, which totally belied my mind. In my head I was doing back-flips as I searched desperately for a remedy. Nervously I broached the subject of boys.

“Shouldn’t we only be doing this with boys?” I ventured.

“Huh! What; and get pregnant? That would really foul things up!”

“But the boy doesn’t have to -, have to-, you know.”

“Boys always want to -, you know!”

“Not always,” I protested meekly, “some boys are nice.”

“Well I’ve never heard of one. My cousin says they all want the same thing, and after they’ve got it, vazoom! They’re off!”

“What about getting married?” I persisted.

“Huh, they even look elsewhere even if they’re getting it at home. Boys are like dogs, going from bitch to bitch. They never get enough.”

“But not all boys are like that!” I argued a bit more forcefully.

“If they aren’t they’re probably queer or something. There aren’t many that stay loyal to one girl.”

“Some do.”

“Well if you ever find one let me know. Now do you want to do it or shall we get up?”

I was not to be diverted from my path and I pressed home my objections. After all, I was a boy and I didn’t ‘play around’.

“What would you do if you found a boy who was loyal?”

“I dunno. I’m not so fond of boys anyway, they’re horrible nasty bullies. Give me a nice friendly girl anytime.”

“Would you be loyal to a boy if you found one who was really loyal to you?”

Melanie fell silent. She was only just coming to terms with her own nascent sexuality and she was not certain yet of her true sexuality. She was probably finding it hard to admit it to herself though that she was turning out to be a truly pretty ‘lipstick lesbian.’ I drew myself level with Melanie’s face on the pillow and stared into her uncertain eyes. All I saw was uncertainty.

“Are you gay?” I asked boldly.

I felt her tense and she turned her face away from me.

“Well. Are you?” I persisted.

She turned nervously to face me and I saw a single tear glistening in her eye.

“If I was, would you hate me?” She whispered nervously.

I sighed softly. Little did Melanie know about the set up at my home.

“Why should I hate you?”

“Well. Lot’s of girls are horrified by lesbians.”

I giggled as I reflected my own home set-up.

“Mel, are you blind or stupid?” I asked.

“What d’you mean?” She asked sitting up angrily.

“Well, have you ever realised the set up at home on our farm?”

“No.”

“Then you must be bloody blind.”

“Why?” Protested Melanie

“Haven’t you ever noticed there are no men?”

Melanie fell silent as the revelation dawned in her head.

“You mean, Aunty Sian and Aunty Margaret -, they -, they’re!”

“Exactly,” I sighed wearily,” they’ve lived together since before Chenille and I were born. Sian is my mum and Margaret is Chenille’s mum.”

“But -, but they’re mothers, they must have been with men.”

“No. They got pregnant but they are still partners. They sleep together every night, like man and wife. They’re even married!”

“So. So your mum’s a lesbian!” Gasped Melanie as the relief exploded through her mind.

“Yes.” I answered matter-of-factly. “It’s no big deal in my life; in fact it’s no deal at all.”

This revelation was Melanie’s first realisation that she wasn’t totally alone. There were others close to her of the same sexual persuasions and more importantly, able to help her come to terms with her feelings.

“I should come to live with you.” Suggested Melanie.

“Why? You’ve got a good life at home, that house and all.”

“Yeah, but my mum, she doesn’t know about me. She wouldn’t understand. They expect me to produce an heir and a spare for some horrible duke or something. I’m nobility and all that shit.”

“Why d’you say that, your mum and my mum are best of friends. They were at this very school together. She knows about my mum being a lesbian.”

“Does she!” Gasped Melanie.

“Of course. My mum told me. It was your mum who helped my mum get sorted after my grandparents cut her off.”

“Is that true?”

“Yes, your mum said that’s what friends are for. My mum was a bridesmaid at your mum’s wedding.”

“Why hasn’t my mum told me all this?”

“Have you ever asked her?”

“Well. No, actually.”

“Well ask her next time. It’s no secret between them. My mummy Sian is a lesbian but she’s still your mum’s best friend.”

“D’you think they -, you know.”

“No. I doubt it. In fact I’m pretty sure they don’t. Mummy Margaret would make a huge fuss if they did, not to mention your dad. Anyway, Mummy Sian and Mummy Margaret have always slept together. Chenille and I should know because we used to climb into their bed as little children every morning. I never saw your mummy there.”

“OK, but would my mummy be angry with me if I told her I was lesbian?”

“I dunno’. I don’t think so. She might be disappointed but not angry. Anyway, you could still give her a grandchild. That’s what most mummies like.”

“Ughh! Sleeping with a big horrible hairy boy. No thanks. I like my partners soft and curvy. Like you.”

So saying, Melanie squeezed tighter to me and gently curved her hand around my bum.

“See,” she added, “and you’ve got beautiful curves and lovely tits.”

She finished off by gently kissing my stiffening nipples again and stroking the soft silky roundness of my all-in-one sleep-suit.
It was obvious that Melanie was utterly besotted with my body I wondered if was remotely possible that she might forgive me my big secret. However, I was still uncertain of Melanie’s reaction so I held off that morning. We were going riding later and I could make a brief diversion off the Dumplin to visit my Mummy Sian and Aunty Beverly. They would be able to give me some advice. Instead I snuggled closer to Melanie until we had to reluctantly separate for breakfast.

As we rode over the Dumplin I approached Miss Smith the riding instructor and begged to go and visit my Mum. She trusted me for she knew I was totally familiar with our own land and I received an hour’s release to go and see them. I seized the opportunity and trotted off down My Aunty Beverly’s fields to the cottage. Once at home I explained the reason.

“And she’s that intimate is she?” Smiled my Mummy Sian Knowingly.

“Yes,” I mumbled guiltily, “but she wants to go further. She thinks I’m a girl and she wants to do the same to me.”

“Oh! Then that’s a bit of a problem isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I replied monosyllabically.

“Well darling. It just won’t do to spring such a surprise upon her; you’ll have to prepare the way. Oh! And there’s the other issue of course.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Well. Your still a boy you know and you wouldn’t want to cause any accidents would you.”

“Like what?” I wondered aloud.

“Darling, if you get that intimate with Melanie, there’s the certain probability that that she and you will loose control. It only takes one accident and she could get pregnant.”

“Oh! Gosh of course! I’ll have to stop it now then.”

“Not necessarily darling,” interjected Aunty Beverly.

“Why.” I asked again. My learning curve was steepening.

“Doctor Sandie could always arrange to have you vasectomised.”

“What’s that?”

Aunty Beverly explained all the details and I listened avidly.

“So I won’t be able to get any girls pregnant.”

“Not unless the operation is reversed, and you won’t need to do that unless or until you settle down with a wife.”

“A wife!” I squeaked with surprise.

“Yes. Why not? There are plenty of girls out there who’d be happy to have a husband who can share their femininity. I suspect that Melanie might be one of those. She’s a very pretty girl and quite feminine.”

“But how do we know for certain? How do we know she won’t blurt my secret out? What will my sisters feel?”

“Whoa!” Chuckled Aunty Beverly. “One thing at a time. First we have to sound out Melanie’s true feelings towards you. That will be your job.”

“But I know her feelings,” I protested.

“Correction darling,” added Mummy Sian, “you know her feelings towards a girl called Martina. She doesn’t know you’re a boy.”

I fell silent. That was the whole problem. How could I sound out Melanie’s feelings towards the real me? My silence prompted Aunty Beverly to suggest that I rejoin the riding party whilst she and Sian chatted to Doctor Sandie. For want of any better ideas, I remounted my pony and set off back up the Dumplin to meet the trekkers at the top gate.