The Blossoming of a Butterfly
Chapter 2, the teen years
By Erika Nicole West
As I got into my teen years, my body changed from a big chubby fat kid to a lean muscular kid. This was attributed to playing intramural basketball in 5th and 6th grades. I sucked as a player but I was one of the taller kids and big, so I got in the way a lot. I remember running lots of stairs getting into shape and it literally ran the pounds right off of me. I can remember looking at my 7th grade class picture and I was actually skinny, which I had never been before in my life. I don’t recall doing much cross dressing in 7th grade, I was just beginning to become interested in girls and I was sure they wouldn’t understand. After 7th grade, my parents sold their house and we moved to an older home in a little town. They had bought the house my mother had grown up in and it was in poor shape and in need of remodeling. We moved into a rental, 2 doors up the street. This was the point in my life where I changed from a fairly lazy kid into a lean working machine. My older brother had broken his foot and was in a cast and my younger brother was too young to be much help, so the burden of moving the household was on my dad and I. Of course the women in the family helped with the smaller items but moving the furniture and appliances and what have you, well, I got a crash course on moving heavy stuff. Anyway, once the move was complete and we were nestled into the rental house, the cross dressing began again.
One outfit I recall of my sisters that I found particularly sexy was what was popular at the time, 1973 I believe, a black body suit couple with a knit pair of very pink slacks. You could lightly see the outline of the black body suit under the pink, just loved that contrast. I was thin in those days, so I actually looked pretty good in it, so I thought anyway. What I wouldn’t give to be that thin today!
So 8th grade was an epic year for me, I learned work ethic, I was cross dressing again and I had learned to masturbate. When I say masturbate, I mean masturbate. It wasn’t easy either as I shared a room in the rental house with my younger brother. We had metal cabinets that we hung our clothes in that separated our beds. I remember one time he asked me “What are you doing over there?” as I was feverishly pounding my new found toy. Of course he could hear the heavy breathing, dead give- away, but him being younger, not sure he caught on. Once I mastered the technique, I practiced it often, every day for sure, sometimes 2-3 times a day. I would wear open sores on my schlong at times and have to switch hands so as not to irritate it more until it healed. I speculate I masturbated 360 out of the 365 days a year all through high school.
My masturbation material was thoughts in my head of images I had either actually seen or pretended to have seen. My most erotic thing growing up was again and still, my panty fetish. Nothing aroused me more than seeing the bikini outline through a girls dress or pants or the holy grail of fetishes, the rare but ultra-hot view of catching a view of a girls panty via a crotch shot. I loved catching a peek whenever I could, either by accident or selectively positioning myself where I could. I used to long seeing girls wearing pretty dresses, wishing, hoping I could catch a glimpse, much less have a chance to wear the dress!
My high school years were spent mostly chasing girls and being a jock. I had become a decent 3 sport athlete by this time, football, basketball and baseball, with football being my priority. I actually had set the school record for rushing yards for a freshman with 1,100 some odd yards in 7 games. Not too bad for someone who wanted to be a woman, this was in 1974.
On instance I remember my junior year on the varsity football team, we were playing away. The visiting team always used the girls locker room, so when we entered, I noticed a pair of mint green satin bikini panties laying on the floor. So me being the opportunist that I was, I positioned myself in proximity of the panties and devised a plan. When the game was over and I was showered and changed my close, I was going to scoop my stuff up and snatch the panties in with my gear and take home with me. I had plans for these! I would have many ultimate and erotic masturbation fests at the expense of these panties. I liked to rub myself with them until I ejaculated. Anyway, just as I was about to put my plan into action, some jackass grabs them up and starts prancing around the locker room with them horsing around. I was devastated! My whole plan was up in smoke! My world was shattered! I had never had a pair of panties other than my moms, or sister’s, this was a whole new world for me! I was heartbroken, but lived for another day.
My first sexual experience with another person was when I was 15. One of my non-jock friends who lived in the same town I did called me up and asked me if I wanted to stay over that night. His parents were out of town and he didn’t want to be there alone. I said sure so I went over there and watched some TV until bedtime. Now, for some reason that escapes me, that particular day I was off of my normal masturbation schedule, it had been a couple of days since I had unloaded me sweet concoction of my loins. So we headed to bed and he suggested we sleep in his parents room, since it was a king bed and was lots of room. I said “sure, sounds fine to me” in my still naïve’ way. So went to sleep and sometime in the middle of the night I woke up with a raging boner and my friend was rubbing it! OMG I thought, at first I was mortified, but then I succumbed to the pleasure as it’s not like I hadn’t thought of this sort of thing before. To be fair, of course, I started rubbing him as well and we both were enjoying it. I finally pulled his head down on me and exploded with the most massive orgasm I had ever had at the time. Seemed like it last for several minutes. I was too shy to return the favor, after all, I was a jock on the football team, so I went to the bathroom to clean up. After washing, I noticed his mother’s light blue satin nightie hanging on the door. It had thin white lace around the edges of the sleeves. Of course I couldn’t resist but to try it on! So on it went and I pranced about the bathroom a bit then the thought occurred to me,” should I go out into the bedroom with it on? I could be a woman for him and he could take me from behind!” Oh, the temptation was so great but I gave way to my jock senses and took it off and hung it back on the door. I went back to bed and he proceed to go down on me again and worked me up to another orgasm, granted less dramatic, but still a fine one just the same. I still couldn’t bring myself to return the favor.
The next few days after that, I couldn’t get it off my mind. I was so mad at myself for not being a better participant. So, to make things right, I went over to his house one day after school about a week later, went into his bedroom, blocked the door with a hair, un buckled his pants and proceeded to give him the blow job I had always dreamed about giving. It only lasted about a minute and he blew his load in my mouth and down my throat and I knew at that point that was something I wanted to do again and again and again!
While I was in high school, I started working on Saturdays for an older, single man that lived in town. I had gotten the job via my older brother as he had worked for him for a bit and then moved on to something else. He was working on fixing his house up and I was becoming very handy at doing things from working with my dad on the fixer upper house they had bought earlier. So anyway, I would go over on Saturday mornings and do whatever it was he wanted to do, put ceiling tile in, or paint or what have you. Some days all I would do was drive him to the grocery and bring him home and he would cook us food. He always paid me $20 for the 4 hours I would spend with him. He had an attractive niece that would come around on occasion and I mentioned how I would like to do naughty things to her. He said we could fix the upstairs bedroom up and maybe I could get her up there sometime. So, we had the bedroom almost completed and were walking up the enclosed narrow staircase on day and all of a sudden he grabs ahold of my manhood. I’m in shock! It suddenly dawned on me that the nice, new bedroom wasn’t for me and his niece, it was for me and him! He told me that he had lube and that it would slide in easy and all. With me already being a little partial to that by this time, the only thing that saved me was the fact that he wanted me to do him, vs. him doing me. Well, no way that was happening as that wasn’t and isn’t my thing. In this life, I firmly believe that things happen for a reason, good and bad. I quit my job there that day and it was only a couple years later, he died of some mysterious disease that no one knew what it was at the time. The year was 1976 and he had died of what we now know is AIDS.
That was about the extent of my memorable events in high school. After all, I was a jock, no jock wears sissy clothes or touch other guys junk, that is just queer!
The Blossoming of a Butterfly
Chapter 1, the early years
By Erika Nicole West
My story begins in 1959, born just a regular kid, ornery as anything, 3 siblings, older sister, older brother and younger brother and raised in a normal household by normal parents. Life was normal, then 1965 hit. I don’t remember exact dates but the weather was warm. I was running around the school yard, as kids do, but this particular day, I deemed it a good day to run with my eyes closed. Well, lo and behold, the next thing I knew I was laying on the ground. I had inadvertently ran into a baseball bat being swung by an older kid! I don’t remember the actual impact but I do remember the results! As I lay there, gazing up, my teacher, my young, beautiful, sexy 1st grade teacher, Mrs Sparks was hovering over me, as well as several other people.
As I stared up, to my disbelief, there, Mrs Sparks, in all her glory, in her dress, as women wore back in those days, was exposing all of her under garments to me. She was wearing a white girdle with clips and the women’s stockings attached to them. I didn’t really think much of it at the time, probably because I was 6 and woozy from the home run blast I had taken to the head. But as I found out later, the story goes on.
Somehow they managed to get me back to the classroom, and to the dismay of my mother, had let me lay my head down on the desk and sleep for the next 2 hours. By that time I was starting to throw up, so they called my mother, who rushed up to the school, she was furious! She immediately took me to the local hospital, where they admitted me. I don’t recall is they actually gave me any treatment or just monitored me, but I continued to throw up for the next day or so. They were about to ship me off to Children’s Hospital when I finally quite puking up my intestines and my condition improved. After a week, I went back home. I was out of school for another week, and it was that week, that is the beginning of the blossoming of a beautiful butterfly!
That week, for reasons unknown for sure, but assumed on my part, were influenced by my wonderful view of the goods of my teacher who I had so admired as a child. So, I decided I wanted to wear those things too, so I proceeded to start wearing my sisters under garments. The first thing I remember wearing was a frilly little full slip, looked like a dress. I’m sure I looked like a lovely little girl in it too, RIGHT! I’m not really sure how many times I wore things back in that day nor how much my mother new about what I wore, but I do remember taking advantage of several opportunities pilfering through my sister’s panty drawer. My favorites were a pair of pink silky ones. I would also try on dresses and what not, but panties were my first and forever love.
Somewhere in the first or second year of my new found love, my mother decided it was time to put her foot down and stop my sickness that my warped, deviant mind had delved into. So, in all of her wisdom, and my mother actually was a very smart and wise person, but we’re talking 1966 here, she decided to try and embarrass me in front of my siblings. She gathered all 4 of us kids around and in front of them, tried to force a pair of my sister’s panties on me, my favorite ones no less. Of course I fought this kicking and screaming and my mother was not successful in her attempt to make me wear the panties in front of my siblings. She also was not successful in embarrassing me enough to quit wanting to wear them in private either. What she was successful in doing though was making me feel guilty enough about what I was doing to always be in hiding whenever I wanted to partake in this activity. So, now, at this point I had another plan.
My plan, instead of putting things on in my sister’s room, was to take things from her room and wear them in my room, then I would conveniently hide them under my mattress where no one in the world could see, or ever find them. They were in my own little safe lock box! This ploy worked until the first time my mother came in to make my bed, and my plan was foiled, the panties disappeared. So, me being as ingenious as I was as a kid, I re-stole my booty from my sister’s drawer and hid them in a place not even my mother would ever think of looking, under the mattress at the OTHER end of the bed! This plan was now perfect! This plan actually did work for a brief period but alas, mom found them again and back into my sister’s exquisite panty drawer they went.
The cross dressing as an adolescent continued on through my childhood years. Now, mind you, this was not an everyday occurrence but one of opportunity and need. I would go through periods of being my normal, ornery self, but then I began the need to feel pretty. As I got older, thing began to change, puberty. I remember I was in 5th grade, I was wearing a white frilly, lacy half slip with built in satiny panties to bed that night. I remember that night like it happened yesterday, I was dreaming about a girl in a lime green bikini at the beach. She was interacting with me, rubbing my back, things like that and all I can remember doing was staring at her. They next thing I know I woke up and I was all wet “down there”. I thought I had wet the bed, which, I embarrassingly admit, happened on occasion until I was 12.
Anyway, I was dumbfounded when I woke up the next morning when I wasn’t wet anymore but it was dried up and crust down there. It wasn’t until a couple years later that I realized that night had been my first wet dream. Kids received no sex education back then, I had no idea any such thing existed. I was so naïve’ as a child, but I would soon educated myself as I got older. I was in 8th grade before I ever masturbated for the first time.
One other event I remember from the 5th-6th grade years. I was laying on my bed, wearing my mothers long black satin nightgown. Yes, I had grown up and doubled my wardrobe by this time, sharing between my mom’s and my sister’s clothes. I was laying there, imagining a guy walking into the room, me laying there on my right side in my best sexual pose. My left leg was bent and my knee drape over my right leg and I actually whispered out loud, loud enough I could here anyway, the words “I’ve been waiting here for you” while imagining this stranger walking into my room. That was the point in my life where I realized I had an interest in guys.