Girls Love Paris Best

I liked geography too. History was a little harder but OK. It was all French oriented. Art history concentrated on Europe too, but that was no problem -- it was the same stuff I had studied back home. Math and science were compulsory but were a mystery to me in any language, but helped me with my French. English, of course, was too easy.

I looked forward to every new day. And every evening Delphine and I would do homework together (much more demanding than back home) and then watch some TV or surf the internet. Ike her mother, Delphine was interested in fashion, and was looking for a career in the fashion industry. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I found that we could look at fashion stuff on the net together.

To be honest, I completely lost touch with football and basketball results back home, sports I usually followed religiously. We had other things to do.

Every night I went to bed in a nightie. Sometimes before bed I would look at myself in the mirror. I would pout and cup my imagined breasts under the silky fabric. My penis would stiffen. I wanted to call out to Madeleine to make my little one happy again. How could I ask her?

I thought that the best policy was to raise it with her when I was alone with her briefly before breakfast. I stammer something like: "I am bulging down here, I am worried that people might see ... could we ...?"

She nodded and winked. "Tonight. But for this problem I will give you some special tea...". And she did. She gave me the tea, every morning. And that night, and once every few nights for several weeks, she sucked off in the laundry.

Anyway, at the end of that first week was my second weekend in France and my first Saturday night with my new school friends. There was to be a small "soiree" at a café in the neighborhood. Basically it was Delphine and me, and three other girls, and some boys. Delphine insisted that we should paint our nails and do our hair.

She suggested that I go with my natural curl but that I needed some color. My thinking was "what the hell -- go for it". She used some home color solution in a strawberry blonde, and then used curlers to give body. Then the hairstyle was just poked and prodded out into a messy casual style. She said I looked amazing. She spent an hour on my makeup, even though the look was to be "casual". Here is me after all of that:

Delphine looked great too. She was going for a similar casual look, but her hair was much longer so she had it in a braid. She explained that she was out to impress Benoit, a guy she had an on-off relationship with who would be there tonight.

In France at 16 a person can buy wine and beer. The attitude to alcohol is very mature -- they do not drink to get drunk, but only to lubricate a social event. The event was simply a group of young people spending the evening at some tables in a small café.

As promised Aurelie brought her brother, Jerome. He was the guy she described - good looking and strongly built. He played rugby, which was a sport I did not follow but understood a little. His English was very good -- probably better than anybody else in the group.

"Aurelie did not tell me you were a redhead," he said. "And she knows I have a thing for redheads." He gave me a look that convinced me that was no lie.

I looked at Delphine and she winked at me. Her choice of color was no accident.

"Well I must admit," I said, "I wasn't one until this morning".

He actually ran his fingers through my hair. "Do me one favor and don't change it," he said.

I ended up spending most of the evening talking to him. I guess that after talking French all week it was just so easy to talk to Jerome. He had been to the UK and had been to school there. But he had never been to the USA and was keen to talk about it. He was a real gentleman. He ensured that I had a drink and food and just had a courteous way about him.

When it was time for us to leave I kissed everybody on both cheeks as the French do, but somehow kissing Jerome was a little different. The parting gesture seemed to be in slow motion. I could feel his warm breath on each ear. It was ... thrilling. It was as if it carried a promise of things to come, without a word being spoken.

Now, I have to say at this point that I had never had a gay thought in my life. I had always regarded myself as 100% heterosexual. Nothing that evening gave me any reason to doubt that, but when I went to bed that night, as I brushed out my hair and rubbed in my face cream, I started to have some strange thoughts. I began to wonder whether I had missed the opportunity to give Jerome a real kiss -- a passionate one. One like a real girl would give a guy.

On Sunday Delphine had a call that Benoit and Jerome wanted to take us to the flea market (Marché aux Puces de la Porte de Vanves) and the Bastille market for lunch. Delphine was very keen. Again Delphine was in charge of the look -- ladies super slim jeans and nice tops and jackets. My hair she was able to pull up into a loose curly do. She wore hers in a sleek ponytail. We looked fabulous.

At the Marché aux Puces, Delphiine and I had a great time going through the clothes. Over my protest Jerome insisted in buying me a couple of Hermes scarves (incredibly cheap I was told) and he also bought me a retro dress. I told him I would never wear it, but it was so cheap he bought it anyway.

We had a nice lunch, but in the afternoon, Delphine ended up having an argument with Benoit, so I told Jerome I needed to go home with her. In the circumstances our departure was abrupt, and it avoided the potential embarrassment of a lingering kiss like the night before.

That night I was to speak to my parents over skype. I could not explain the red hair even if I could make it look like a hair style a guy could get away with. I told them that the camera was out. Even then my mother said: "Larry, you sound different."

I told her that it was a speaker fault, that everybody thought it made me sound squeaky. But the fact was that I now spoke naturally in a higher register. I had to put on a special voice to sound like I used to.

The following weekend Jerome suggested that I come to watch him play rugby. I had not realized it before, but I now learned that he was a junior at a professional club in Paris and that he could look forward to a lucrative contract after he finished school in September. A professional sportsman. He could hardly be a better guy to know.

Delphine and I both went. She enjoyed it as much as I did. We had seats with supporters of Jerome's club and we were loaned scarves and hats in club colors. We shouted "allez, allez" and cheered when his team scored.

Afterwards a whole group of us attended the after-match function. The atmosphere was very manly -- as if the air was heavy with testosterone. I felt girlish. There is no other word for it. I felt as though I was a small, fragile and sensitive female, surrounded by hulking masculinity. But I could not feel intimidated by that, because Delphine and I were maybe the two most popular people in the room.

With Benoit forgotten Delphine was playing the field, and she had plenty of options. It seemed that the best candidate was Thibault Tessier, Jerome's team captain. He did not push himself on her, but he did not need to. He expressed his interest with a kiss of her hand and glances throughout the evening, but he had things to do. Then at the end of the evening he came over and engaged Delphine in a brief but passionate conversation.

"I think your word for it is 'double date'" said Delphine. "Next Wednesday night."

I was starting to get concerned. On the way home I told Delphine: "This is fun, but I think he expects me to kiss him. Maybe even more. If I get found out I'm dead. He is a big guy and I would not like to see him mad at me."

"Don't you like him", she asked.

"That's the problem", I said. "I like him more than I should. I like him more than is natural."

And that was the problem. That night I was clinging to his arm like a puppy dog. When I looked up at him I felt a strange feeling. So many people were saying how well he had played that day. I felt so proud. I felt that my guy was the best man in the room. And he was mine. I knew that from the way that he looked at me.

I was in this too deep.

I needed to snap out of this. I cried off the double date. I claimed that I had a cold. Delphine went out alone with Thibault. Jerome called. I stuffed cotton up my nose and spoke to him for an hour pretending to be sick. I told him that I would not be able to come to the game on the weekend. He was very disappointed.

He called me every day. This was not going to work. I had to agree to the double date the following week.

We went to a musical show and then had supper in the heart of the city afterwards. Thibault picked us up in his car, and after supper he was to drive us home. We drove down to a spot near the river to see the Eiffel Tower. Thibault and Delphine in the front seat started kissing. In the moment nothing seemed more right, for them. Jerome reached out. Nothing was more right for us either. The moment that we kissed was like every cliché you ever heard in one moment: Stars, fireworks, earthquakes ... everything. Why had I never felt like this when I was a boy kissing a girl? Why had things become this weird?

His strong hand on my neck, in my hair, under my arm .... I had to push his hand away before it got any further. It was so unsatisfactory.

"You should let him make love to you," said Delphine, when we got inside.

"In case you were aware of it, I am male. That is impossible."

The interesting thing about that response is that firstly I did not react with disgust. Clearly, I was saying that if I could have I would have. And that is true. Secondly is that I felt really sad that I could not give him what he wanted. He really did deserve a nice girl, and the chance to make love to her.

"I think in America you say let him go the French way," said Delphine. "You know. Let him put it in your asshole. You have one of those."

"That is crazy," I exclaimed. I should have been totally disgusted by the thought of gay sex, but instead I found myself saying: "If I let him anywhere near that area he will discover that I am a boy".

Again, here I was not talking not as a man, but as a potential sex partner with a man. Surely something was very wrong in my head. It was just that I really wanted to stay together with Jerome, and I knew that I would need to give him something to do that.

"We can fix that," said Delphine. "Sometimes in France we like to stay a virgin so that means we give the asshole. I have done it. For you we just need to hide the other parts with some special underwear. If you want I think we can do it. If you want to give him something, give him your asshole. Make it sweet for him and he will like it just as good as a vagina."

A few days after that strange conversation Madeleine suggested that we meet in laundry later. I was keen to express my masculinity as things had been getting very weird lately. I hurried down as soon as Richard was in bed. She locked the door and I dropped my pants. She took me in her mouth but no matter how much she licked and sucked, I just could not get an erection. She asked me to take off my top. She looked closely at my nipples, which I had noticed had become enlarged and sensitive recently. She started kneading them and I could see that she was pulling on two mounds of flesh that had not been there a month ago. Then I found that I was losing it. I started to moan. Then I came. Out of my little limp penis I squirted clear fluid onto the laundry floor.

I was confused at looked at her for an explanation as to what had just happened.

"You are changing", was all she said.

Changing? Changing how? Changing into what?

Back in my room I looked at myself in the mirror and I could see them now -- breasts. Was I changing into a woman? How could that be possible? As I said, I am not strong on science, but it seemed scientifically impossible. But what did I know about science? Art has to be the opposite of science, and for a moment I had the romantic notion that my feelings for Jerome were spontaneously transforming me into the woman he thought I was. It seemed that thinking romantically was how things were for me now. I was becoming a fairy princess. A crazy fairy princess.

It never occurred to me that Madeleine's tea was a potent concoction that was chemically castrating and feminizing me. But that was what was happening.

At the time I just felt that I was not functioning as a man, and regardless of the physical changes I seemed to be acting more like a woman. The only sport I was interested in was Jerome. I was not looking at women to get turned on. When I saw a beautiful woman I found myself looking at what she was wearing or wondering how I would look with my hair that way. I spent hours over my hair, makeup and general appearance. I had now taken to checking my breasts morning and night -- even hoping for more growth there. Even at home I was sitting down to pee.

Larry had almost completely disappeared. My mother asked me why I still did not have a replacement webcam. I could not let her see what I had become. Even though what I had become was better than pretty.

The pressure from Jerome was never in words, but seemed unrelenting. So, I asked Delphine how it could be done. How could we do it the French way?

She said that I could claim a period and cover up my genitals with a sanitary pad. We both looked on the internet as to how it could be done, and there was a method of tucking my package away with just a small pad taped over it, and my asshole exposed. We needed surgical glue but she had been able to get some from her father's dental surgery.

Then she said I should prepare in advance and use a laxative and preferably a perfumed enema. I had never heard of this thing before. And she said that if I wanted to avoid pain I should stretch myself a little with a dildo and consider using a tampon anal -- something I later learned was plastic and not cotton, and is a called a 'butt plug'. We had to buy one, and other equipment to prepare me.

Jerome and Thibault and their team were playing away in Nantes, and would be staying the night flowing the game. If I was serious I would need to be there. If I was not, then it was best to say my goodbyes then and there. I knew that I should (say goodbye that is) but I just could not do it. I was just to fascinated by him to see him walk away. The truth is I wanted things to go to the next level, and the consequences be damned.

The boys had already left by train and Delphine and I took a later train. But before getting on Delphine helped me with the tucking. We followed the pictures from the web. It involved pushing my balls up inside me and bringing the penis down to poke out, so I could sit down. From my knowledge it did not look anatomically correct, but it was a flush area easily concealed with a sanitary pad, and I could pee out of it. I would need to as without solvent it would be like this for days.

Then Delphine produced two dildos that we had bought and some lubricating gel to use to widen my entrance. Starting with the first and then moving to the larger one my first experience of anal sex was the candles gently inserted in my ass by my friend Delphine.

During this session was the first time that Delphine saw my breasts. "What is this you have!" she exclaimed. "How can this be? They are so big! They are almost as big as mine." She took off her top and bra and I could see that she was right. We were both not well endowed, but I did not have to think that my chest was male. It certainly was not.

I had no explanation. She told me that maybe God was answering my prayers so that I could be with Jerome. But I never prayed for that. I didn't pray for them to go away either.

So, we packed some good clothes and dressed to watch the game, then we headed off to the station and out of Paris.

Our team won, which was a little unexpected. The boys were on top of the world. Jerome hugged me. I could not help but whisper to him that I had a reward waiting for later that night. I have to say that as the night wore on I alternated between dread and excitement. At one point I even wondered if Jerome would be too drunk to do the deed. But he and Thibault were not about to miss their chance.

The hotel room was fairly basic, but the bed was big enough. Before I even got undressed I explained to Jerome that it was that time of month but that I would pleasure him in any and every way I could. He seemed too excited to worry about anything.

I let him play with my breasts. I apologized that they were a little small.

"No problem, Cherie," he said. "My sister had the same problem. It can be easily fixed."

I was getting really excited, so excited that I check my pad as I was sure I would be oozing into it. I needed to return the favor. His cock was engorged to bursting. I took it in my mouth, just as Madelaine had shown me. He gently held my head as I moved backwards and forwards. It seemed no time at all before he was shooting his load right down my throat.

It was his turn to apologize. He said: "But honestly I have never come that quickly before. Nobody has ever excited me as much as you do.

I lay curled up in his arms and tried to understand what had just happened. I had sucked another man's cock. I had swallowed semen. These things I could never have contemplated only a few weeks ago. But here I was. But with my soft hairless cheek on his hairy chest, and his strong arm rapped around my slim feminine body, what I had just done seemed so normal. To give somebody this magnificent such a powerful thrill had been itself empowering.

After a while I said: "I want you inside me. Even if you cannot enter my vagina because of my period, I want to have you inside me". Of course I had planned this, but hearing the words come out of my mouth were still strange. The blow job should have been enough. If it was I could keep my asshole intact. But this was the mouth that had sucked this man off. The pink, painted and pouting lips of Jerome's pretty American girlfriend. Lips talking to a man she wanted to fuck her. I felt that I had lost control.

His cock was back again, hard as a bullet. I lubricated it and then rolled over onto my back pulling my legs up, holding the sanitary pad in place over the glued genitals. He placed a pillow under my bottom for more height and then pushed. The head of his penis broke through, and then very slowly he slid the full length in. We both gasped at the same time and our eyes met. We smiled at each other.

"I promise I will be gentle," he whispered.

Then the rhythmic motion started. I could feel all the strength of this man concentrated in his penis pounding into me. I could open my eyes and see his muscled body rippling. I could the uncontrollable pleasure written all over his face. Can a woman feel any better? Yes, she can. When she feels the spasm, when she hears him cry our "Oh Laurence", when the hot seed flows into her body, when his fully spent member slides out with that special sound, when he rolls over beside her and sighs with total satisfaction.

I knew at that moment that I could only ever be the receiver in a sexual relationship. Preferably only to receive whatever this man was delivering. If I did not love him before that night, I loved him now.

I switched on the webcam when I got home that evening -- Sunday night was when I usually spoke with my parents. Delphine was there to say hello.

"Oh at last we see you Delphine," said my mother. "Larry is just about to come home and only now we have a webcam."

"Well Mr and Mrs Beale, this is because Laurence has been hiding from you," she admitted to them. "You see here in France Laurence is a girl's name. And Laurence has been going to a girl's school for the last 9 weeks. So we had to make some changes ..."