As a toddler boy of three or four, I became convinced my life would have been a better life if I had been born a girl. My mom — and sometimes my grandmother — often told family and friends how much her and Dad had wanted me to be a girl. They had not wanted my older brother to be a girl. They had not wanted my younger brother to be a girl. They had wanted me to be a girl. Because I was so young, I felt it had to be my fault my parents had not gotten the girl they wanted, that it must have been my choice to come into this world as a boy. Of course none of this is logical or consistent with the realities of the real world, but all I knew for sure is that my parents wanted me to be a girl. And I wasn’t. I was a boy.
And then I wasn’t. Now we can quibble about whether or not I was truly a ‘girl’ for seven years of my life. Once I decided I wanted to be a girl — that I did not want to be a boy — I would often pester my mother and grandmother to ‘let me be a girl.’ At first they said that was impossible but then one day my Grandma dressed me as a girl. She did so frequently and I loved the game of ‘dressing up as a girl.” And then one day she asked me if I wanted to be a girl all the time. It was all I truly wanted and she made it happen. For seven years of my life, from age five to age twelve, everyone who knew me ‘knew’ we to be a girl. By everyone, I mean my classmates at school, our neighbors after we moved, the salespeople and waitresses where Grandma shopped and dined. Those who knew I had been born a boy were on a very short list.
I was on that short list and at the age of twelve I had come to realize that I was a boy and would forever be a boy. I joined my immediate family in their home and returned to the life of a boy. But not the normal life of a boy. I was a boy who still very much wanted to be a girl. I simply did not know how. As I had sucked cock as an eleven year old girl showering with boys my age was — to say the least — difficult for me. I often found myself wishing I was a girl again as I envisioned myself on my knees in front of some boy in my class.
I began dressing up in the privacy of my room and one night I shared this secret with my older brother. Mike was sixteen at the time and I had been giving him boners since I was about nine. I had a crush on him and we devised a plan where — using the trunk of his car as something of a closet — we would spend time together again as brother and sister. But not for long. He stopped calling me ‘Sis’ and began calling me Veronica. In conversations with others he would speak of me as a friend. Our time together began to feel more and more like dates. One night we went to see The Sound of Music. As we were standing in line, outdoors as was common in the Sixties, he put his arm around me to give me warmth. I saw people smiling our way and knew they were smiling at the sight of young love.
Once we had at least on some level accepted that we were now boyfriend and girlfriend, it would not be long before our trips into Spokane would always included make out sessions in his car. At first this was limited to kissing and groping, but I wanted to suck his cock. And he knew it. A month before his 17th birthday, two months before my thirteenth, Mike put me down on his cock. I had sucked cock when I was eleven and I knew that did not make me a girl. Now sucking his cock, I knew it did not make me a girl. I had returned to life as a boy because I knew I could never be a girl. I could never be a girl because — as I thought at the time — boys could never fuck me.
One night — after what I mean may have been one of the best blowjobs I had ever given Mike — he told me of his plans to fuck me some day and some day soon. By this time I had learned about anal sex and how a boy could fuck another boy. However his ‘soon’ was not my ‘soon.’ My ‘soon’ he meant once I was in high school, almost a full year away at the time as I had only started eighth grade a couple months earlier.
More often than not, when we drove into Spokane, we would stop by to see Grandma. Sometimes we would spend the night. Initially she was disapproving of our trips into Spokane as brother and sister. But she came to enjoy spending time with her ‘granddaughter’ again. I do not feel I would be far off base to suggest that as my relationship with Mike changed she became more accepting of these trips. One evening, when it was just her and I, she told me of her prayers and the answer she had received. She said, “There is no way for me to know what is the best path for you Veronica. And while I do not entirely approve of the secrets you keep from your parents, I feel you are discovering your own path and I will not stand in your way.”
I do not believe that Grandma knew of Mike’s plans to fuck me, neither generally speaking or specifically on the night of October 6, 1967. However she could not have made it easier for him to do so. Shortly after we arrived at her home, she announced she had plans for the evening and would be out for two or three hours. It was a bit unsettling how willing Grandma was to leave the two of us alone in her home. She had done so before. While I was still a young girl (?) of fourteen, Mike had turned eighteen the previous May. While she may not have known of Mike’s plans, it is was almost as if she had her own plans for him to fuck me.
My journey began as a toddler boy who came to believe that his life would have been a better life as a girl. And ten years later, despite living seven years as a girl and two years and change as a girlfriend, the best that I could say was that life as a girl was different — not necessarily better. That all changed on the night of October 6, 1967. It took us three attempts before we got it right. But when we finally got it right, it was so fucking good. Now I am not saying that our first two attempts were nothing at all and done all wrong. But when Mike took me the third time, my world exploded. He fucked me good. He fucked me real good. And maybe it was because the first two attempt had fallen short. But once Mike into me that night, he kept riding me. He was still fucking me when Grandma returned. Mike whispered in my ear. “She probably knew this would happen. I’m not done with you.” He did finish soon enough afterwards and we did attempt to muffle ourselves.
I do not know what it is like when two guys fuck. Maybe it is pretty much the same. But when Mike took me, I was a woman to him. When entered me, I submit to him as a woman should. For the first time in my life, I finally had an answer to the question — why is it better to be a girl? Submission, total submission.