The Start of It

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The Start of ItThe events in this story are partly true. Descriptions of the places and even some of the girls are certainly accurate, which is why there are no names. I have exaggerated some events and others are pure fantasy. I will leave it you your imagination to work out which parts of the story are which, but hope you enjoy all parts the same…..I went to a large, English public school (which for the non-English means a fee paying private school, the differences between Private and Public schools in England are subtle and varied, but all the better schools are called Public schools). There were no longer any boarders at the school and my first year was the first year that there were equal numbers of girls in every year of the school. So for me it was not unusual, but some of the longer serving teachers were still coming to terms with it. Dirty old buggers!In my teens, I was quite a tall boy for my age, and I suppose not bad looking. I had dark hair, worn a bit longer than my parents or teachers would have liked, in the style of the early 80s. I was very aware of girls, had had a couple of snogs, but not really dated a girl more than a few times. I had plenty of girls who were friends, but anything more romantic tended to leave me awkward. I probably put girls on a moral pedestal and thought they couldn’t be anywhere near as fascinated in sex as I was at that age. That opinion was soon to dramatically change.I was not particularly sporty, but it was discovered that my tall slim physique was suited to long distance running. The school was divided into houses and competition between the houses, in a number of different areas, was fierce, nowhere more than in sport. There was a forthcoming cross-country competition, and my house sports captain had put my name down to represent my year group for the house. I am generally not very competitive, but was proud to have been selected and was fired up to do well. Consequently, on one PE lesson – the last lesson of the day, I asked our PE teacher whether, rather than doing the circuit training the other boys were doing (and which I hated), if I could practice my cross-country. He was a guy who liked to encourage enthusiasm and so immediately gave me permission. In this age of safety, he would probably have been fired for letting a pupil out by himself, particularly as the route was over a neighbouring golf course and through some local woods, including running through a stream at one point, but this was the 80s.There were two main sports complexes in the school, there was a fairly new indoor complex, with swimming pool, large gym, weights room and squash courts, but for outdoor sports was the pavilion. The pavilion looked beautiful from a distance, white painted wood gleamed in the sunlight, but it was a different story inside. The school itself was a few hundred years old – a big rambling castle of a place, and whilst not as old as the main buildings, the wooden pavilion was at least a hundred years old. It had a changing room at each end of a large open room, and these would swap between boys usage to girls usage and back again several times during the day. There was never a sign up to say which was which, so shier pupils like me learnt to be wary! However on this day in October, the pavilion was deserted. I randomly selected the East changing room and eagerly changed into my cross-country kit. It was a bright but cold day, which was ideal for running. I did some brief warm ups, then set off the short walk along the public roads to the start of the course. I did the short run first and felt really good. I gave myself a breather, then warmed up a bit more seriously before setting my black plastic Casio watch and attacking the much longer competition course. I nearly chickened out when I saw the stream, which was deeper than I had ever seen it before, swollen with recent rains, but then I plunged ahead. It was icy cold and splashed all the way up to my shorts. I completed the run with frozen legs and was pleased to see it was still a pretty good time. I had stupidly not remembered to bring anything to put on over my kit, so found a spot of October sunshine and tried to dry out. It was only partially successful and so by the time I walked back to the school I was shivering again.When I got back into the school grounds, climbing over the stile at the bottom of the field and walking along the long stretch of grass to the pavilion, I was dimly aware that there seemed to be some kind of hockey practice going on, but at that stage I was more worried about onset-hypothermia!I walked into the pavilion and into the changing room where I had left my uniform hanging up, and stopped stock still. The room was full of school uniforms hanging up, bags on benches,shoes and socks s**ttered about. But these were all girls uniforms, there was no mistaking it, as the girls had coloured skirts and different colour blazers. The room was silent; there was nobody there. In one corner, my uniform was still hanging up. On tiptoe, I could see out of the high window onto the field. Hockey practice was still going on. I grabbed my clothes and bag, bundled together and ran to the other changing room, but I could hear voices in this room, girls voices. I looked around desperately and spotted the toilets. At least these were marked boys and girls. I went into the boys. The floor was quite wet and the window was open, making the room cold. I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I was covered in mud and was still freezing cold. I desperately needed to have a shower to clean the mud off and get clean. Carrying my bundle, I went back into the main central room. The large windows here afforded me a good view of the field. The hockey practice was still in full flight. There was a noise from the door from the west changing room, in some kind of panic at being spotted – I don’t know why – I scuttled back in to the empty east changing room and shut the door. I peeked out at the field again from the high window. Maybe I should go to the new gym? But by now I was shivering so violently, I had to get warm and dressed soon. If I was quick….I found a bit of space on one of the benches lining the wall. I had to move a couple of the Girls’ kits aside and as I did so, a white bra fell out of the bag. I picked it up and looked at it. I remember my heart was beating so hard in my chest and despite the cold in the rest of my body, my face was burning. I tried to feel the material, but my fingers were numb, so for reasons I still can’t fathom I put it up to my face and inhaled deeply. I was filled with female scent, both chemical and biological. This somehow drove me on. I looked amongst the other girls stuff. I couldn’t help myself. My shaking hands found a couple of bras, some kuşadası escort bayan knickers, tights, even some other female items, such as spare tampons. I was in some kind of frenzy of excitement. A few times I rubbed panties and bras against the outside of my shorts, against the form of my stiff cock. What a perv!I was brought back to earth by the shouts and calls of girls from the other changing room leaving. I pulled myself together, with another quick peek out of the window to confirm hockey practice was still going on, I grabbed my towel, stripped off and jumped in the shower, which was a large communal shower in a room, with no door, adjoining the main changing roomI was only in the shower for a couple of minutes, when I suddenly heard loud voices and the clatter of hockey boots on the hard flooring of the changing room. You couldn’t see straight into the showers as you came into the changing room, but it was only a matter of seconds. The showers were of the type where you pressed a button and the shower ran for a minute or two, so I couldn’t even turn it off. I heard one girl say, “someone was quick off the mark and in the shower early!”Panic, panic, panic. I had seconds before I was discovered. For some long-forgotten reason, going back into history, there were wooden cupboards built into wall. They were about 3 feet high and one on top the other. I tried to open one of the top ones, b
ut just got a splinter for my efforts. In even more of a panic I opened the bottom one and squeezed in to the damp, musty space pulling the door shut as best I could and holding it shut with fingers sore from the cold and the recent splinter. I was stark naked except for my towel d****d over me. My bare feet were on the hard, splintered floor of the cupboard. It smelt rank.I could see through a gap in the thin wood panelling of the door naked legs and naked buttocks coming past me on the way to the shower. My teenage imagination was running riot at what was just a few feet away from me. As I was not wearing my glasses, I could just make out flesh tones in the steam from the shower. I was pretty sure I could see darker areas of pubes, and I must also be looking at naked female breasts. I had seen these many times in the wank mags in my father’s private collection, but never in the flesh -as it were. I became aware that, despite the cold, I had developed a rock hard erection. My heart was beating so hard that I was sure they could hear it, even above the noise of the shower and their excited chatter.Then, suddenly I started to develop cramp in my legs, I had not been in the shower long enough to properly get warm and I was now getting properly cold, despite the radiator of my burning cock. I began to shiver violently, adding to the discomfort of my cramp. I must move. I must try to move slowly, soundlessly. That granted me some relief. But then the cramp came back worse than before. I bit my lip to stop myself from crying out. I started to shiver uncontrollably, which translated along my arms to the fingers holding the door and the door started to vibrate. Then the unthinkable unthinkable happened: my fingers lost their purchase on the door and it started to swing open. An unseen hand slammed it shut. Phew! Then came a voice: “I wonder what is in here?”. My poor fingers tried to hold the door shut but it was wrenched open and I tumbled out. One girl shrieked in surprise. But mostly there was stunned silence, with only the sound of the shower as a backdrop. I lay shivering on the damp floor, the towel doing nothing to cover me. My eyes were tight shut, but I suddenly remembered and was immediately aware of my erection. I instinctively tried to cover it with my hands, but I guess that just drew the girls’ attention to it.The next I knew, naked girls, or some with towels wrapped around them were hauling me to my feet. I was shivering and fearful. Some of the girls were angry: shouting at me. But on seeing my distraught face a couple of these girls, who seem to have forgotten their nakedness at the sight of mine realised I was in a bad way and shivering uncontrollably – mostly from cold but also from fear and embarrassment. I was pushed and pulled into the hot showers, where the anger seemingly forgotten they begin to rub my body to warm me. Anger gave way to excitement and laughter. I was still shocked, and stunned and embarrassed – I guess there were probably 6 or 7 girls in the shower with me and about the same number watching. As they were rubbing me, I was fascinated by all the boobs wobbling around me, blurry nakedness wherever I looked. My cock, as anyone who has been a teenage boy will attest, was completely out of control. Despite my best attempts to think thoughts that would reduce it, my erection pointed straight up. It wasn’t helped that, in rubbing me to warm me up, Hands and arms were brushing against it. Whether accidentally or deliberately I could not tell. I felt I was going to burst – or at least disgrace myself by coming all over them.When I was finally released from the shower, still hugely embarrassed and still with the biggest boner I had ever had, some of the tougher girls had decided that maybe I had still deliberately been spying on them, and that maybe I like being one of the girls. I couldn’t deny it had been an experience, equally I couldn’t say I had enjoyed it much either. I was still hugely embarrassed and standing there with a towel wrapped around me whilst all the girls stood around me. They were all a couple of years older than me. I was quite tall for my age, but some were as tall as me and, where I was a boy trying to be a man, some of the girls were definitely women. They were the Lower-6th hockey squad, and the alpha girls of their year.One of the girls, who was the team captain, and definitely one of the scarier ones, suddenly suggested that, as I so much liked being “one of the girls”, I should be one for a bit longer. She was their natural leader and the others soon fell in with her plan. Three of the girls quickly dressed, grabbed all my clothes and, splitting the bundle between them, disappeared through the door. I was panicking now and was – if not actually crying – very close to tears. I was told I had had my fun and now they were going to have theirs, then one of them actually twanged the end of my erect penis. This was the first time a girl had ever deliberately touched my naked cock. I was overwhelmed, but it gave me the courage to ask what was planned. I was told to wait and see…The girls were all getting dressed now and I stood, rooted to the spot and watched. Two of them went out and came back dragging the lost property box between them. I began to see how things were shaping up. Several of the girls started going trough escort kuşadası the box, finding items of girl’s uniform and measuring it against me. Shortly there was a skirt, blouse and jumper which probably would have fitted me, but no underwear. One of the girls came walked slowly over to me, with a pair of white cotton panties dangling from her finger. “You can borrow mine.” She said huskily. “If you let me put them on you…!” The other girls cheered and so she removed my towel and knelt in front of me, her face level with my cock. How I didn’t spurt my load in her face I will never know, as she told me to lift each foot in turn and step into her knickers. Then she slowly slid them up my legs and pulled them over my erection. She patted the end of the bulge, and as I gulped she said “don’t cum in my panties, you little perv!” Oh god!One of the quieter girls, who was quite slim was asked to lend me her bra. I guessed she must have still been wearing her sports bra, and handed it over without a word. She looked nearly as embarrassed as me. I almost felt sorry for her, but there was no nastiness, or bullying from the other girls to her. I stood there helplessly, not sure how to put it on, until several of the girls stepped forward to help. Then they were all dressing me, pulling on the blouse and doing up the buttons, then the woollen skirt, which felt strange with nothing between my legs, the jumper and then finally one of the girls put their blazer on me and I was dressed.They stood back to admire the effect. “Hmmm. Just looks like a boy in girls uniform. Needs more work!” Oh god, what now? First up was the insertion of a couple of rolled up socks into the bra: not to make large tits, but just enough for shape. There was a lot of giggling as they were mashed into shape. Make up came next. An old wooden chair was dragged in from somewhere and I was seated in the middle of the room. Three of the girls were obviously self-declared make-up artistes. I was reminded frequently to keep still, a demand I was ready to comply with as sharp looking objects were waved near my eyes and various powders daubed on my face and lipstick smeared on my lips. Whatever I looked like at the end of this process caused much hilarity.Hair was next. I had longer hair than I was probably permitted, and it didn’t seem to be much effort to style it in a girly way, and set with much hairspray – the smell of it always reminds me of that afternoon, even now. Finally they let me have my glasses, with a note of disapproval that they weren’t very feminine.After what seemed an age, but was probably only 15 minutes I was hustled out if the changing room and unceremoniously dragged into the girls toilets where I could see the full effect in the mirror. I have to say, I was quite impressed by their efforts – I
could pass, at a quick glance, as a girl, but best of all, with all that make-up daubed on my face, I was completely unrecognisable!By this time, the three girls who had taken my clothes had returned. They told me they had hidden them around the school, and handed me a sheet of paper, on which there were clues as to their whereabouts. My mission was to go out dressed as I was to find them. I started to plead with them, panic rising, but then I realised that another feeling was growing inside me. That of anticipation and excitement. My fear was recognition, but a combination of speed, cunning and all that make-up might be enough!I protested a while longer, but now my protests lacked conviction. With butterflies in my stomach, I took the plunge and headed out of the pavilion, the list of clues in my hand and an empty bag on my shoulder. The school was emptying out, but there were plenty of people still around, going to after-school clubs, or just taking their time going home. There were a lot of teachers around too. At first, in the outside world, I could keep my distance and realised I didn’t even warrant a second glance. I found the first few items of my clothing, but soon the clues were leading me inside. The first corridor was empty and I hurried along it. From the clue, I guessed my jumper was in the small Classics corridor, at the end of this longer one. Suddenly the double doors opened at the end to which I was heading and a group of younger boys, chattering brightly, came through. I turned on my heel and started to head back the way I came, but then another door opened at the other end of the corridor and my maths teacher, accompanied by my physics teacher walked into the corridor. I stopped indecisively. Both my exits were blocked. The teachers both knew me, but the younger boys did not. Decision made, I turned back and headed, at speed, head down towards the boys. My strange pirouette had obviously caught their attention though and they were all looking at me as I came towards them. “You’re a boy!” One of them said. I shoved him out of the way and charged through – their sudden catcalls mingling with the startled shouts of the teachers. I banged through the doors and, avoiding the dead-end of the classics corridor, ran up the stone, spiral steps. My unfamiliar skirt and shoes trying to slow me down, but I was taking the steps at a very unladylike rate of three at a time. I disappeared into the first floor landing and double-backed into the library corridor. I ducked into one of the deep inset doorways and listened for sounds of pursuit. None came.I sensed I was being watched. Sitting on the wide window seat opposite me, watching me, was a first-year girl. I recognised her as the librarian’s daughter, who must be waiting for her mother. As she looked at me, wonderingly, I saw a sudden surprise in her eyes when she realised I wasn’t a girl. “Boo!” I said. Never one for witty one-liners. She started to giggle, her hands over her face. I decided she wasn’t a danger. “Just a silly joke.” I explained, strangely deciding to adopt a bad Scottish accent! I looked at the sheet of clues. “Are you looking for this?” She asked and handed me my shirt. “Thanks.” I said, Scottishly. I headed off back up the shirt corridor, comically putting on a over-the-top sexy wiggle for her benefit. She giggled again. I was actually beginning to enjoy myself.In some strange way I was now hoping to meet people: it was starting to give me a thrill. The clothes felt peculiar, but the different feel of the thin cotton knickers, the tightness of the bra and the pressure of the rolled up socks on my chest! the feeling of the make-up on my face and the feeling of my naked legs rubbing together as I walked, under the skirt. I began to wonder what tights would have felt like…When finding the next two or three items of my “boy clothes” I encountered only empty corridors and rooms, then I had to head back down to the kuşadası escort bayan ground floor, where there would be more people. I took a short cut through the sixth form centre and there were two guys and a girl chatting there. As a non-sixth former, I wasn’t supposed to be here, but thought it would have been deserted. One tall lad called out to me “What do you think you’re doing here?! Hey, come back here when I am talking to you…” This last, was because I had ignored him and carried on. I stopped, sighed and turned round. He was standing there arrogantly and I realised that he was giving this show for the benefit of the girl. I had not seen her properly before, but now realised that she was the school “babe”. This arrogant prick didn’t stand a chance with her. She turned her beautiful eyes on me. Then put her head on one side as she gazed at me curiously. Then – oh god – she got up and came over. Then she laughed: “you’re not a girl! What are you doing?” “It is a dare,” I whispered urgently to her. “I need to find my own clothes.” She laughed loudly. “Not bad – you easily ‘pass’ as a girl from a distance. Brilliant! Good luck.” And she patted my shoulder. I nearly fainted: she had touched me! But I turned and hurried on. “Hey!” Shouted the boy, but I heard her tell him to shut up and leave me alone.I had collected the next couple of items and by now I was no longer dashing between shadows but just sauntering along enjoying myself. A couple of times I caught site of some of the hockey squad watching my progress and gave them a wave. I was feeling pretty happy when I rounded a corner and walked slap bang into my geography teacher. I got on really well with him and he knew me well. He could be quite strict and I held my breath as he held me at arms length, a hand on each shoulder and looked at me quizzically. I decided on the route of a Scottish accent, he would surely recognise my real voice. “It’s just a dare sir. Just a laugh!” He replied, “the only criminal thing here is that accent. I’m not even going to ask about the rest. Just look where you’re going, though.” “Yes. Th-th-thank you, sir” I stammered, and hurried off. When I got to the end of the long corridor and looked back, he was standing, hands on hips, looking at me. I saw three of the hockey girls in the middle of the quad, through the glass of the door. They were standing with hands over their mouths.The final five minutes of my “treasure hunt” passed without incident and I walked back to the changing room, swinging my hips, trying to walk sexily. Some of the girls followed me back laughing and the others were standing on the veranda of the pavilion. I walked back into the changing room and they followed me in clapping.I now had their respect and the upper hand. I felt empowered and in control. They formed a circle round me. Nonchalantly I said “If it is ok with you, I will change back into my clothes now. Please stay and watch – or give me a hand – I don’t mind which!”. Normally I would never have dared to say that to a girl!With some difficulty with the unusual fixings, I started to strip off. After a moment, a few of the girls came forward to help. When I had taken the blazer, jumper and blouse off. They stopped me and two of the girls helped remove the makeup. Someone unclipped the bra for me. I stood up and took it over to its owner, the quiet girl. “If you put it on now, it will still be warm.” I said. The other girls laughed, but she blushed and took it from me, turning away. I went back into the throng and eager hands helped me remove the shoes, knee-high white socks, then the skirt until I was standing just in the white cotton knickers.I turned to their owner “They will still be warm too if you put them back on quickly.” She looked at the defiance in my eyes, then her gave travelled down my naked, white body to where my stiff cock was tenting her panties. All the other girls started chanting “Do it! Do it!” at her. She looked back into my eyes. And for a time we stood looking at each other. Then she smiled and shrugged. She then unclipped her skirt, then slid off her dark blue PE knickers. She made sure I g
ot a good look as she wiggled her naked arse at me, then stood with her legs apart and slowly stroked her pussy. Self control was beginning to leave me; my heart was beating so hard, I thought it would burst out of my chest and smack her in her pretty face, knocking her mocking smile off. It wasn’t helped when she suddenly knelt in front of me again. Her face was just inches from my cock as she slid her fingers into the waistband of the undies. I realised that the room had now gone silent, the faces of the other girls enraptured by what would happen next. Then slowly she pulled them down, letting my cock twang up into sight. I stepped out of them And she brought her still-warm knickers up and rubbed them over my cock. I thought I would come, so intense was the experience, but just before the final moment she took them away. I could see some precum glistening in them. Amazingly she sniffed them then, standing back up, she put them on, saying, as she did so “I hope you didn’t cum in them, or I might get pregnant from my own underwear! She rubbed her pussy through the thin material and I could see where the dampness made the material cling to her. Was it the wetness of my precum, or the dampness of her excited pussy – I could not tell.Her right hand was stroking her pussy, but she switched hands and suddenly her right hand was wrapped around my cock. She gripped me firmly and began to wank me off, at the same time frigging herself. It was all too much and within seconds I was shooting my load. My cum was like a fountain. In all the secret masturbations – and there had been many- I had never before cum so much or so strongly. It splashed over her hand and her naked legs. She let out a loud groan too and soon stopped frigging herself. There was silence in the room. I looked at all the astonished faces, bright red with what they had just witnessed, eyes locked on my dripping cock.And then, even more incredibly, the girl bent forward and planted a kiss on the end of my cum drenched cock. She stood, licking her lips and giggled. I stood there dumbfounded.Silently one of the other girls handed me some tissues and rather self consciously I cleaned myself up. “I think I’ll get dressed now.” I said. “In my own clothes, this time!” This broke the ice a bit and they laughed, then with them watching me, I got myself dressed. One girl checked the coast was clear, then I said goodbye to the girls, I think I even said thank you, and headed out of the changing room. I thought it was an apt name today: ‘the changing room’: I had entered it as a nervous boy and left it, well, if not quite a man, certainly a lot less nervous, vastly more sexually experienced and having gained myself a new ‘hobby’. I also suspected -and hoped – that it would not be the last time I came across (quite literally!) the girls of the 6th form hockey squad. And I was right. But that is a story for another time….

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