The days following the 'Chica Follada' incident, I couldn't get out of my mind how that young man treated and used her, and especially when I touched myself and masturbated. And even though I started watching porn like any other boy would, what unleashed that lust wasn't just the sight of it, but the memory of when he was screwing her and the moans she produced. Many times the memory came at an inopportune moment, such as a family gathering or school, and there I had to squeeze my cock to stop the erection. And well, they'll say that's normal, clear, for a boy my age it was the most common thing, but the norm was that they wanted to penetrate her, not imagine being her and enjoying sex while being used. And I let it pass, whatever it was, I let things continue happening. The 'Chica Follada' incident had marked me, and I think forever, because back then in my mind there were not only thoughts of how it would be to be her and get screwed like that, but also lapses where I'd go on a mental trip and imagine sucking a cock, being that girl...
I'd put myself on the stage of wearing lingerie and being on my knees, seeing that great erect penis ready to penetrate my mouth. The imaginations were so vivid that I had to take small jumps wherever I was sitting to get out of that trance. I felt sorry for myself and wondered what people would think if they could see in my mind. And already I knew that one should never think about what others see in oneself, because everyone lives their life as they can and want, but the stigmas of those days still echoed strongly in my consciousness. However, for some strange reason, all that disappeared and every prejudice was erased from my mind when I masturbated in my room. At that moment everything was different, very different. I'd enter, lock and key, turn on the TV and choose something to watch, and just as I least expected, the Chica Follada would be assaulting my sanity again, and I'd stop myself. I never was what I am now. In those days I had the body of a young boy, although I wasn't entirely slender, but tended to change quickly, so with good nutrition I kept it under control. But my ass wasn't like theirs, nor like the Chica Follada's, and I noticed when I caressed my buttocks thinking about how he touched hers. But I'd push those thoughts away and get into character. And since I never had problems letting my imagination run wild, lust did its part and my mind the other.
And again I saw myself slobbering on that cock like she would do it. I got down on my knees, grabbed my cock, imagined what hers took from him and put it in my mouth, letting my thirst for cock make saliva flow, pouring it onto my breasts. It felt good, the mind is powerful. And although somewhere in the city Chica Follada was being screwed with pleasure and enjoyment, I was being her and enjoyed sex as much as she did. The heat was so intense, how many times I put a pillow between my legs and sat on it like I was going to ride, like I was a little cowgirl. For my ass, I masturbated and touched my breasts, squeezed them and imagined that guy taking me in that way.
I would fall asleep so contentedly that I would doze off right away. It was my way of sleeping. That's how I calmed down the sorrows and stress of having those thoughts I knew weren't good, based on the prejudices my circle instilled in me. However, I never remember thinking about asking another boy to bring this fantasy to life. It was always me and my own caresses, always me and my morbid mind, always me wanting to be that tasty girl.
And there I saw her again. Like always, I passed by the same street on my way back home, so the chances of having another encounter like that increased, and one day it happened. I saw her again, but it wasn't the same guy, it was another, but almost the same build, although his cock continued to be a thick lance. And I enjoyed it. I enjoyed seeing them fuck, I felt it too. And then I understood that my mind was so full of that that maybe it was best to stop. Maybe it was best to leave it there, not keep going with that and just try to be a normal guy, because in the end that's what I was, a guy with thoughts where he felt like a girl. A slut was germinating in my head. I tried to follow my life normally, every so often these images would come back to my head, those small moments where a girl appeared getting fucked, it wasn't the same chick anymore, it was another different one, maybe some of the porn videos I saw, but she appeared there being screwed and opened for pleasure.
And I was wondering what it would feel like to be her and have been born a woman. But I stayed firm, I think that was enough as I went into the next year where I met new people, had new friends, being quite attached to one or two of them, boys and girls. And for a long time I believed those thoughts, that heat I had last year, were over, that it wouldn't come back and that's what everyone expected me to be. But many times thoughts don't match life and you end up wrapped in things that give everything a 180-degree turn from what we once believed.
But time is short and that's all I can tell for now. I'll only advance that the events that came after have to do with a girl and a boy, young people with a more open mind and filled with stranger things than what was in mine back then...
I'd put myself on the stage of wearing lingerie and being on my knees, seeing that great erect penis ready to penetrate my mouth. The imaginations were so vivid that I had to take small jumps wherever I was sitting to get out of that trance. I felt sorry for myself and wondered what people would think if they could see in my mind. And already I knew that one should never think about what others see in oneself, because everyone lives their life as they can and want, but the stigmas of those days still echoed strongly in my consciousness. However, for some strange reason, all that disappeared and every prejudice was erased from my mind when I masturbated in my room. At that moment everything was different, very different. I'd enter, lock and key, turn on the TV and choose something to watch, and just as I least expected, the Chica Follada would be assaulting my sanity again, and I'd stop myself. I never was what I am now. In those days I had the body of a young boy, although I wasn't entirely slender, but tended to change quickly, so with good nutrition I kept it under control. But my ass wasn't like theirs, nor like the Chica Follada's, and I noticed when I caressed my buttocks thinking about how he touched hers. But I'd push those thoughts away and get into character. And since I never had problems letting my imagination run wild, lust did its part and my mind the other.And again I saw myself slobbering on that cock like she would do it. I got down on my knees, grabbed my cock, imagined what hers took from him and put it in my mouth, letting my thirst for cock make saliva flow, pouring it onto my breasts. It felt good, the mind is powerful. And although somewhere in the city Chica Follada was being screwed with pleasure and enjoyment, I was being her and enjoyed sex as much as she did. The heat was so intense, how many times I put a pillow between my legs and sat on it like I was going to ride, like I was a little cowgirl. For my ass, I masturbated and touched my breasts, squeezed them and imagined that guy taking me in that way.I would fall asleep so contentedly that I would doze off right away. It was my way of sleeping. That's how I calmed down the sorrows and stress of having those thoughts I knew weren't good, based on the prejudices my circle instilled in me. However, I never remember thinking about asking another boy to bring this fantasy to life. It was always me and my own caresses, always me and my morbid mind, always me wanting to be that tasty girl.And there I saw her again. Like always, I passed by the same street on my way back home, so the chances of having another encounter like that increased, and one day it happened. I saw her again, but it wasn't the same guy, it was another, but almost the same build, although his cock continued to be a thick lance. And I enjoyed it. I enjoyed seeing them fuck, I felt it too. And then I understood that my mind was so full of that that maybe it was best to stop. Maybe it was best to leave it there, not keep going with that and just try to be a normal guy, because in the end that's what I was, a guy with thoughts where he felt like a girl. A slut was germinating in my head. I tried to follow my life normally, every so often these images would come back to my head, those small moments where a girl appeared getting fucked, it wasn't the same chick anymore, it was another different one, maybe some of the porn videos I saw, but she appeared there being screwed and opened for pleasure.And I was wondering what it would feel like to be her and have been born a woman. But I stayed firm, I think that was enough as I went into the next year where I met new people, had new friends, being quite attached to one or two of them, boys and girls. And for a long time I believed those thoughts, that heat I had last year, were over, that it wouldn't come back and that's what everyone expected me to be. But many times thoughts don't match life and you end up wrapped in things that give everything a 180-degree turn from what we once believed.But time is short and that's all I can tell for now. I'll only advance that the events that came after have to do with a girl and a boy, young people with a more open mind and filled with stranger things than what was in mine back then...
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