My Transition into Homosexuality

I have always loved women. I've envied how their hips gyrate when they walk and how wearing a simple pair of heels accentuates their butt. I love how they've been crafted; their hourglass body coming as close to perfection as anything can and their ample breasts so beautifully alluring. Their flowing hair and their sensual lips and how they make any guy's heart fly in joy. I love how lace panties and bodycon dresses have been especially designed to highlight their voluptuous structure. Women are a metaphor for beauty and sensuality.

Having traveled to countries across the globe, I've come across some breath-taking women, each more beautiful than the previous. They have always inspired me. They have guided me to be better and do better.

Most men spend their entire lives wondering what it would be like to be between the legs of one; to have their hard tool pumping into one.

In my case though, I've always wondered what being one would be like; how it would be like to have breasts to offer and kiss men and watch them melt in my embrace. I've always wanted to be the eye candy for men; every movement of the body watched with unabashed eyes. I desired to have such beautiful dresses adorning my body; to be able to reveal my legs and torso catching the interest of willing men.

Ever since I was 18, I've had a penchant for being a woman. I've wanted to have supple breasts to feed men and legs to part. I've always covered myself in colourful, flowing attires; cherry red lipstick and thongs made out by cutting old underwear up to feed my sinful fancies. My cock is and has always remained tiny, and so easily hidable under the layers. I'd wear my pretty dresses up, put on my lipstick and watch to hear the click of my heels on the hard wooden floor. I would stand in front of the mirror to be everything I've wanted to be, a Princess.

As time rolled by, it never was quite enough. I knew that I could dress myself up all that I can and parade the streets pretending to be one, but I wanted more. I knew deep down that I I'm not one yet.

I wanted to be loved by a man. I wanted to be touched and held and kissed by men. I wanted to be fucked. I wanted to see the passion in a man's eyes as he plunges into me. I wanted to hear his animalistic grunt as he ravages me. I wanted him to fill me with his seed; make me his bitch; tell the rest of the world that I'm a woman. I'm his woman.

I got to live my dream only months after dreaming them up. I felt my fingers tremble in anticipation as I unbuttoned my dad's driver's pants. My numb hands fidgeted with his zipper before pulling them down. The summer light hit my chest squarely through the car's windscreen as I heaved in triumph at what I had achieved. I held my man's semi hard manhood in my right-hand staring at it in pure lust.

It was his first time and he was nervous. So was I. He had never been with another man, neither I. His hands held the steering wheel firmly while mine held his pulsing tool. Without another word, I dove down onto his fast-hardening member. I had never seen a cock before, let alone hold one. As my lips felt the warmth of his pink head, I could feel it grow in my mouth. I could feel it fill my mouth up, stretching it wide. He didn't know what to do. Neither did I.

15 minutes later, I pulled up on my seat with his cum in my mouth. I found the saltiness tasteful. I didn't realise then that I had just given him a blowjob, the French way of loving. I could feel him heave next to me like he had just completed a race. I swallowed his cum after playing around with it in my mouth for a while, watching him cover his nudity up in haste and shame. I sat back, still nude with the evening glow dying in the horizon. We never spoke another word that day, or for a week. I felt peaceful.

He had just fucked his boss' son's mouth. He was guilt ridden. Weeks passed me by in a daze. I still couldn't believe what I had done. I have had an intercourse with an actual guy. The next time we met in the car, it felt eerily silent. He had his hands on the wheel, his eyes were staring into the road, only they were filled with thoughts of what we did the last time we had met. My hands were impatient in getting his cock out but were unsure how. I put my right hand on his left thigh and caressed him gently. His left hand left the wheel and touched the side of my body, rubbing my back; tracing my neck. Once he had a good hold, he pulled me down, willingly, to his member. This time, there was no guilt. No shame. We knew what we wanted. 15 minutes later I found myself swallowing his cum down my throat. This time he felt bold enough to peck me on my lips, nothing sensual, he came close and brushed his lips on mine, sort of like wanting to kiss but didn't know how. I covered the placing my lips firmly on his, my hands chaffing at his erect nipples. We held each other under the moon that night, unwilling to let go and unsure of what to do next.

We broke off, returning to our seats when we saw a car turning into the road. But it was enough. I was smiling this time, and I had come all over my underwear.

A month after that, I found myself in a hotel room on all fours; his cock deep inside me. It was my idea of course. I wanted to be his lover. We had drunk beer a few hours before coming back to the hotel to numb our inhibitions away. Once in bed, I removed my shirt and peeled away at my pants almost mechanically. He was already in his underwear when I got naked.

I pushed him onto the bed getting on top of him; our lips met and I could feel his cock push into me. I wanted to be intimate with him. I wanted to have a bed to lie down with him, let him love me tenderly. I wanted to suck him off without having to look over my shoulder every few seconds.

This time, my desires had changed. I didn't just want him to kiss and throat me. I wanted him in me. When I felt his cock pulse in pleasure, I sat on his abdomen with my legs on either side of him. I held his cock firmly and opened my ass wide. Tapping it a few times over my hole, I gently heaved myself on top of him. No lube, I had never heard of one at that time. I felt him moan as his cock explored my insides. Once he was in, I moved him hips getting into the rhythm.

10 minutes later, he pushed me off. He wanted more control. I got on all fours with him positioned to plunge from behind. This time, I was wet with his precum and he was desperate to reach orgasm. I'm quite sure I was heard through the hallways, in the adjacent rooms and by anybody who crossed our room. But I stopped moaning only after he had filled my hole up. I stayed still as he pulled out, plopping on the bed next to me. I could feel his warmth ooze down my balls and my erect cock down onto the mattress.

I spent the night naked with his finger up my ass. I never could explain the transition from wanting to be a woman to being one. He creamed me twice that night and I never uttered anything beyond moans up till he dressed up to leave the next day.

I realised then, in that dingy hotel room with its broken lamp and damp smelling walls, sitting awake at 2 AM next to a naked man sleeping in exhaustion, that I had come a full circle. I had broken my inhibitions. I had liberated my sexuality and I had found what I love to indulge in.

There was nothing stopping me after that.

Fast forward 8 years, I'm an entirely different person now. I frequent gay pubs and nude beaches. I suck men off in dark alleys and take cum in any opportunity I can.

I write this account sitting next to a 60-year-old man who had just spent the last 45 minutes breaking the bed pumping my ass. I can still taste his cum in my mouth when I close my eyes. I sure hope he wakes up soon and hard, else I'm finding myself another man for the night.

It is my animalistic need, to be dominated, degraded and used up by men. When I pull my thongs up and my shorts down for men to ogle at the thin strings caught between my ass, I feel satisfied; I feel as if my purpose is being served.

This isn't a sex story and I apologise if I had given you premise to think of it as one.

This is a story of my journey. And before you judge me, I'm not some coke snorting tramp who'd sleep with just about anyone for a penny. I've lived and worked abroad; have two masters degree, pinning for a PhD in the next couple of years; have a job I'm good at and ambitions I'm getting closer to every day. Besides all of that, I simply enjoy the pleasure of sleeping with men, that's all.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I welcome comments and discussions. You can reach me on my mail through my profile.

Have a great day and I hope that the next ass you find satisfies you.