In summer, out at the cottage, it was possible to be completely naked all the time. We put mattresses on the balcony and slept on them without sheets, the soft night air bathing our skin. I'd wake during the night to realise drowsily that Sandy was gently masturbating me or sucking my cock and I'd lie there half awake, lulled in pleasure until he made me cum and I'd drift off until he reached for me again. I had never dreamed that it was possible to masturbate so continuously. We did it to ourselves and to each other constantly, kissing and giggling like girls. We were two boys in love as completely and as unself-consciously as only teenagers infatuated for the first time can be. Sandy, a year older than me at 14, was the more assertive of us and liked to pretend that I was a girl although my cock was bigger than his. I had no objection. He decided to give me a silly girl's name and called me Doreen which made me laugh. I liked to play at being like a girl, imitating some of my sister's girly mannerisms and pouts. Sometimes, without warning, he'd grab me and thrust me on to my back and ride my nude body with his, grinding his hard cock against my belly until his warm juices squelched between our bodies. I liked it when he mounted me and I had the weight and smoothness of his nude body on mine. When he produced a tube of gel one evening, applied a nob of it to his finger and very gently and deliberately worked his finger into my anus, I submitted to the violation gratefully. Being taken like this, imperatively and powerfully thrilled me. I offered him no resistance, ever. My obedience excited us both. Our relationship changed. Within a week, I had really become Doreen, his little dutiful Doreen, and he had become my master. I woke one morning to find that Sandy, his clothes and his bike were gone without warning. He was back by lunch with a bag which he handed to me. It contained a skirt, panties and bra stolen from his sister and mother. I put them on while he watched me and masturbated. I didn't know it at the time but what Sandy had done was to launch me on a lifetime of cross dressing. I was slim and the female underwear fitted me perfectly. Having it on was a pleasure equalled only by that of being fully nude and perhaps even more exciting because necessarily secret. We stayed at the cottage for another week, enjoying each other without remit and then returned to the constraints of home. Sandy never did fuck me although I would have let him. Today, he's a married man with children living far away. I'm single and a bisexual who loves to go with a man who, when he undresses me, is surprised to find under my male outer wear that I have on a bra and panties.