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I’d peep down and see the gentle bulge of my breasts, and slip my hand down between my legs, enjoying the sensation of putting a finger up inside my vagina and making a gentle squish, squish, squish noise as it dabbled in my wet juices. Sometimes, if I needed to pee in the middle of the night, I’d risk running naked down the corridor to the bathroom. I’d listen at my bedroom door to make sure there was no-one else with the same idea, then open it slowly and peep round. Then I’d flit light-footed along the landing, bare breasts bouncing slightly, and sit naked on the loo listening to the stream of my pee splashing into the bowl. After a brisk wipe between the legs, I’d then listen even more carefully at the door. This was always the risky bit, wondering if the sound of me peeing had woken up someone else who might then decide they needed to go as well. My heart always began to beat fast at this point. What if I heard someone padding down the corridor and rattling at the bathroom. And then the flannelwent into the bin and I went off to hand-wash the towel before my parentssaw what state it was in ...But it wasn't just the possible residue of makeup that was worrying me. Iwas concerned that maybe I was acting differently, that something wouldreveal my secret. It could be my speech, or my body language, or - I don'tknow - some kind of telepathic projection ... Whatever, I was half convincedthat I would be recognised as The Boy Who Dressed Up as a Girl.It was not that I regretted what we had done - not even the terrifyingouting to the shops. Even without the reward of my first (and possiblylast) blowjob, I would still have found last night exciting. And I had tobe honest with myself - Shauna, my nylon goddess, had somehow tapped intoparts of me that I hadn't known existed. The part that was willing to putmyself in her hands. And above all, the part that found makeup and femaleclothing exhilarating, that wanted to look and act like a girl.I had hardly slept last.
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