Lisa's story, or A Sissy Grows Up
Well, I never did share my story; I hadn't originally thought to do it. But here is my story in a nutshell. Of course, it is also the story of Lisa. As far back as I can remember, I always felt more at home in a woman's world than the male world, at least for the most part. At only about 9 years old, I found a pair of old pantyhose in the paint closet. I tried them on and was hooked. Lisa was in the early stages now. Those pantyhose were mine. My parents found them in my room one day and put them back in the paint cabinet without any fuss over anything. But that didn't stop me; I went and got them back out hiding them carefully. Back in second grade, I met T, the guy that I would eventually fall head over heels for during the 10 years that we went to school together. We were still in elementary school when one day getting out of the pool at his house, T teased me because I got an instant erection when I saw him naked. He told me that he knew I wanted to touch him. I acted horrified and denied it vehemently, but I couldn't hide it; the closer he got, the more obvious the physical symptom (understand?) of my arousal became obvious. He touched my hand with that unique part of the male anatomy; my first sexual experience. I quit trying to pretend at that point. I willingly took him in hand, performing to his satisfaction. From that point on, T knew that every time we got together, I would try to find time or the place to pleasure him. It was during this time that I got a bit bolder and began to dress in my pantyhose and a wig I had stolen from my mother's closet. He laughed at me when I came out dressed, but I didn't feel insulted or hurt like one might think. It didn't escape my notice that he developed a sizeable bulge in his pants when I dressed for him. At only about 11, I began to by my own lingerie at a local department store. It started with knee high L'eggs, and by 12 I had begun to by panties on my own. So by the time I emerged from my bedroom closet (literally), to model for him, I was somewhat of a veteran crossdresser. Lisa, the girl I so often wished I was from an early age, was maturing with me. Like me earlier, T could not hide the fact that he was impressed. Not only with the way I looked as Lisa, but with how skilled I had become with my hands (wink, wink).