=sissies i wanna be=

Whenever I see a pretty sissie, I have the same reaction that I have when I see a pretty woman. I don't want to fuck her—I want to be her getting fucked. I've always felt this way & when I was young I assumed every little boy felt this way, too.

I remember friends showing me skin magazines they'd stolen from their dads and ogling over the pictures, making crude remarks about what they were going to do with the centerfold. I felt somewhat at a loss, not knowing what they were talking about, having no trace of the urges they seemed to feel. Because I couldn't conceive of their desires, I still somehow assumed they were akin to mine. To me, it was obvious. Everyone would want to be the pretty girl in the picture, the object of so much admiration and the target of so much passionate, slavering, hungry desire. I didn't think of it in precisely these crude terms but later I could articulate it: Who wouldn't rather be the one fucked than the one doing the fucking?  Who wouldn't rather be the eaten, sweet & delectable, than the hungry eater? 

To be pretty was to be something—something people wanted. To want to fuck something pretty was merely to be wanting. If you could choose, the choice seemed to me obvious.

In the photo above, that little sissie looks like a delicate piece of sweet blonde cake & I would love to be her and have a bunch of hungry guys dig into me.

I could play lesbian with such a pretty sissie—and I have done that sort of thing with various degrees of satisfaction—but we'd both know, I think, that it was a substitute for what we really desired: to be fucked by a man. What would be sexiest of all, I suppose, is for us to play with each other in front of an audience of horny guys who'd eventually interrupt the show & "horn in" on the action with their hard cocks. I think I'd like to kiss another sissie while we were both getting fucked hard in the sissypuss. I think that would be a very sexy thing to do.