I was sixteen, in my mind old enough to date. My father was very strict, and any time I went with someone, male or female, he had to meet them, and preferably know their parents. At that time I had a very close friend, Elsa, she was as perfect as you could want to be. She was also sensual, her mother was from Yugoslavia and her father was an airline pilot. She was an only child. She had a way of wearing clothes, that sum around her, flowing between her legs, around her breasts, if ever there was a beautiful girl it was her.

I on the other hand did not have that gift. I tried, she tried, but I just couldn't carry it off. She said it was the way I walked, I needed to flow on my heels, I needed to let my arms flow away from my chest. Show off my tits, walk like I wanted everyone to see legs and my butt. She had me walk naked, she didn't want to see my arms cover my breasts, she wanted me to stand up and hold my hips out when I walked. She shaved me down until I was almost bare down there, wear panties that cupped me and showed off what I had.

Her instructions to me were that when I walked it she wanted to see me naked under my clothes. She also confessed to me that she didn't much care if any guys or men were looking at her, she wanted other girls or women to see her, to think of her, to want to undress her. Don't dress and walk for the guys, dress and walk for the girls.

We were sixteen. We drove to school together, one day I drove and one day she drove. She came to pick me up one morning and when we were in the car she pulled up her dress to show me that she didn't have panties on. She demanded that I take mine off and give them to her. By then we both always wore dresses, nothing short or tight, dresses that wrapped around your legs. That day without underwear on felt like it would never end. I had on a below the knee wrapped skirt, but I knew I was naked under there. She saw me walking down the hall towards her, and when I got to her she said I had finally gotten it, if I walked like that all the girls would stare.

She was pretty much an out and out lesbian. She was in love with me. As the year went along she wanted to kiss, she would lay back on her bed and ask me to lay down with her. She would undress and ask me to caress her breasts. The lioness had awakened in her and she wanted to make love. I loved to dress for her, and I loved getting naked for her. But I wasn't sure I wanted to make love with her. We got as far as kissing and mauling each other. She declared her love, and I told her I loved her but maybe not in that way. Her verdict was that I would never get with a boy.

We finished high school and we went our separate paths to college, she went to Mount Holyoke and I went to Northwestern. She took to writing me missives, hand written letters, long and full of love poems and admonitions against boys. I had to be strong, to resist, or I would be lost forever. She kept herself away from other girls and swore her ever lasting love to me. If I wouldn't have her, then no one would. She was a good graphic artists, and she would draw these very sensual pencil drawing so naked women, send them to me to remind me what I was missing, and from time to time stick drawings of men with large X marking the middle part, NO DICK, NEVER she would write.

Our first break home together was inseparable, give in and give myself to her, get naked with her and get in bed and learn once and for all that it was her I wanted and no one else. Her hands all over me, touching and entering, her kisses on my face and my breasts, she wore me down until I just gave up all hope and she made love with all her heart. We were not to go back innocent, she said. She got her mouth to discover what she did not want to only see, and she had my mouth do the same. She had me sit in an awkward pose and she penciled a graphic of my open legs, very detailed, and she told me how when she made love her mind played and she felt like a natural scientist discovering flowers for the fist time.

College was long and separation was long and she drew herself, sitting in front of a mirror, her nude body laid back across a chair, with exquisite detail of her breasts, her neck and her mouth and chin. She instinctively knew that I loved her breasts, and how they flowed when she walked. I kept my word to her, I never dated a boy. I never dated another girl either, and neither did she. We remained true to one another.

Until my senior year, I was invited to a party, mostly seniors and some grad students, and I was taken, walked step by step to a room, a guy took my shirt off and played with my breasts, with tears running down my face, he got on me and broke the spell, he did what Elsa feared, I succumbed to a man, I succumbed to DICK, I had my vagina, my mouth penetrated by DICK. In the morning I had a naked man with his DICK with me in the shower and he had me pay close attention to his DICK, to lather him and bend down to suck. He lather me and with his finger he poked into my anus, and told me there was more to come.

The spell was broken and behind her back I got DICK and more DICK and more DICK, I just wanted DICK. I sucked DICK, alone or in front of others, I sucked DICK. I gave him everything he wanted, every hole was his. I let myself get pregnant, knowingly, on purpose, I wanted a big belly. I wanted to cook. I wanted to entertain and have boys and girls come, I wanted to say good night and go up to bed with him. I wanted him, and I wanted DICK. Lots of DICK. And the big belly that goes with it.

Elsa's heart was broken when she found out. She told me that she had sworn to herself to always be mine. I told her that I was growing a big belly, it was filled by a man. I had crossed over, I could no longer be hers, I was his now. I told her that I opened my legs to him, I gave him my hole, I wanted his DICK. I wanted to be his wife, I could no longer be hers.

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