My Three Brothers

This is one of my favorite pictures of myself and my brothers. It was taken when I was ten years old, a few months before Paul my oldest brother would fuck my tight virginal ass.  While Paul would be the first to do so and while it would be four years before he would fuck me a second time, his decision to fuck his little sister was a decision each of his younger brothers would also make in future years.

I feel it is somewhat indicative of my life that I somehow doubt that any of them would had fucked me if I had truly been their sister.  While without questioin that the fear of pregnancy would have held some their masculine urges in check, I think that their decisions to fuck me all stemmed more from my desire to be a girl and their desire to help me be more of a girl.

I am not suggesting that my brothers fucked me as a 'service,' that they saw me as wanting to be all the girl I could be and helping me achieve my dreams by putting my on my knees and giving it to me up the ass.

It would be more accurate to say that I did everything I could to be all the girl I could be. There were times when I suspect it was more important to me to be a girl than it would have been to a real girl. I sent off vibes. I wanted to be a woman and as each of my brothers came to that age of life when girls appealed to them, helping me to find my womanhood was a choice just as easy for them to make for me as it would have been for any girl.

While I may not be making my point very clear, there seems to be a compulsion among men who find themselves attracted to girls such as myself to 'make a woman of me.'  I think each of my brothers in their own way came to fine me attractive and felt a masculine desire to define me as woman through the power of their cocks.

It is interesting to note that to a certain extent each of my brother found their own reason for coming to my bedroom when they did.  Paul loved sex.  I loved sex.  So more often than I did so with either Ryan or Joey, I found find myself giving it up to Paul.  It was something we did because we both loved sex

When Ryan was young, he use to love tormenting insects and animals.  Maybe that means nothing at all,  But when he and I fucked, I felt he was always fucking me like a man would fuck a whore.  It was a way for him to prove himself as a man.  By making me doing things neither Joey or Paul never would have asked of me.  Later when I did start whoring, I often found myself thanking Ryan for some of the lessons he had taught me.

Joey was different.  Unlike my two older brothers, Joey had spent most of his childhood with Yvonne.  When Paul and Ryan were off to school, it would often be Joey and I at home alone with Mom and more often than not, I would spend the time as Yvonne.  In a way that I would never be a 'little sister' to my older brothers, I was a 'big sister' to Joey. For Joey, more so than with Paul and Ryan, sex was an expression of his love for me.

As long as I am talking about the three boys in our home, I might as well give up one confession that I had swore I would keep to my dying day. As you will learn in other posts, my Mom screwed around a lot on my Dad. There were times when she would all dressed up, tell Paul to be the 'man of the house' and look after his siblings and she would held out for two, three or more hours.

It took all the courage I could muster but when I turned eighteen, I made a request of my brothers and they all agreed.  It was my first foursome with three guys.

One night, who had been out-of-town on a business meeting, showed up early. I do not know if Mom knew he was coming home for surethat night or not. What she may or may not have known did not keep her from going on. It was late and the my brothers were all doing their own thing in the room. I was watching television. Mom called shortly after Dad arrived and she asked me if he had gotten home. Dad was shaking his head so I said 'No.' She then added that she would be home about midnight. It was ten o'clock. It only happened the one time. And I am not even going to say what happened. I will say however seven minutes into this audio you will know what happened that night.

Mom and I Are Look-A-Likes

One of the most common themes of my childhood whenever Mom and I were out and about together was that Mom and I were look a likes.  Complete strangers would walk up to us and comment on how much alike we looked.   Some would even suggest that we should enter a look-a-like contest.

Mom often would tell me about about when I was very young, unlike my brothers, every one had commented  that I looked more like my Mom.

My brother did all look a lot like Dad and this became more pronounced as they grew older.   I could look at pictures of my Dad and Mom when they were younger and see so much of my brothers in Dad.  Or I guess so much of Dad in my brothers.

Mom would often suggest as I grew older that genetics had done me a favor.  If I had been more like my brothers, it is not unlikely for instance that I would have need to start shaving when I was like fifteen.  Quite frankly, even later in life about the only time I ever felt the need to shave was before I did my makeup.

I sometimes wonder if there was a genetic reason for why I wanted to live my life as a girl.  I found a great deal of information on the possiblity of that online, but nothing that I regarded as conclusive proof.  Ultimately I decided I was very comfortable with a position where by I chose to be a girl and left the genetics side of the equation for others to debate.

But genetics do have a role in who we are.  Of that there can be no question.  When I look at these images of myself and Mom over the years, I cannot help but wonder what if I had been born a girl.  How much more would I have looked liked my Mom.

You do not need to think too hard to be able to figure out why as I grew older I would have loved to have the looks my Mom had, the body my Mom had.

In Defense of Paul

If I was to compile a list of my regrets, I know exactly what would be at the top of that list. I am rather confident that if Paul compiled a similar list the very same regret would be at the top of his list. There is absolutely no question about it -- Paul and I should not have had sex.

As I was only ten at the time and Paul was my oldest brother, I could definitely understand why some would suggest that it was his fault, that he did more wrong than me.  I feel I need to come to his defense.

First of all it is important to remember that Paul was only fourteen at the time. He had just started high school.  It isn't like he was in college or something real extreme.  No excuse.  Granted.

But it should not be forgotten I was not a ten year old girl.  I was a ten year old boy.  I was even a tall boy for my age. When one consider the differences between a boy of ten and a girl of ten coupled with my being tall, I presented myself more as a girl of twelve or even thirteen.  Okay still no excuse but as I said I am defending my brother not defending our choices.

While I have no similar pictures of myself at the age of ten, this image her was taken when I was still only thirteen. I do not think it takes much imagination on the part of any male to convince himself that I could easily be a girl of sixteen or even older. This speaks something to the nature of what happened that day.

It should also be stressed that I was desperately trying to assert myself as a girl.  Two years before I had made a decision  that I would be a girl and I didn't care how any one else thought on the question.

I had gone out of my way to continually remind particularly my brothers that when I was older I would be a girl.  That I was not going to be a boy some of the time and a girl some of the time.

Now I would like to stress once again that now of this made it right what we did that day.  I guess what I am trying to say and this has just occurred to me is  that Paul could not help himself.  He liked me as a girl and his penis wanted me so he asked if he could fuck me.  I was not a girl likely to say 'No' when asked and so we fucked.

I was not going to share this video of Paul and I that day.  I had already shared an audio portion of the video but I had been reluctant to share the video as Paul (unlike myself) is clearly identifable.  But I feel it is important for those who want to judge Paul poorly for what happened that you see I was a very willing participant.

Mommy. Makeup. Pretty

When I delve back into my most distant memories, one of my first memories (I could say one of my first joys) was sitting on the bathroom counter watching my Mom put on her makeup.

I do not want to make too much of this but I do feel it is relevant to my life as it would turn out to be.

My Mom and I traveled a path rather unique for mother and (dare I say) son.  Some may fault her for the way she raised me.  However was it her choice or mine that I would come to live my life as first a girl and later as a woman.  Am I a whore today because my mother chose to raise me as a girl?  Did Mom imposie her desire to have a daughter on me or did she allow me the freedom to become the person of my choosing?

In this photos I am dressed as a little girl.  Did Mom dress me up as a girl at this age?  Yes, she did.  Did that impact my choices later in life?  I cannot see how it did not. At the same time, I did not mind her doing so.

Okay, so maybe I was too young here to argue that point, but as I grew older I liked looking like a girl. I liked wearing their clothes. And as you can see, going from boy to girl was quite easy for me.

As I may have mentioned elsewhere on this blog, my mother routinely shared with friends and guests to our home that given a choie, Dad and her would have loved to have had a daughter.  Whenever she did so, she usually spoke to their third child.  After having two sons they really wanted a daughter.  Their third son was me.  After having three sons, they had somewhat expectant of having a fourth when she got pregnant again.  So I was the one who should have been a girl.  And I am the one  that came to live my life as a girl.