Alastdare

I like to wear feminine outfits because as a boy I was cross dressed by my sister and her friends and preferred it, it felt like sexually freeing me to follow what was fun and felt good. I was/am an exhibitionist from about age 3, as well as sexually active. So as I held a fem persona with dresses & skirts & panties that excited me. We shared a house with a few of my mom's college friends, and all of theirs coming and going. They were stoned, free sex, free love hippies in their early 20s, black and white together, sex exhibition and group sex openly. I was hyper-sexualized in an over-sexualized setting, always flowing with affection, kissing, digging into all the "daddies" laps, as my sister initiated with me and I with her while we explored all parts of us, tingling with urgent ecstasy most the time and the physical contact of hugging with our whole bodies wrapping each other or someone else, cuddling down into someone's core I snuggled my head in their neck by the ear to breathe tickles to them. I observed how girls got boys excited, and acquired the same power to pull male bodies to attention, to fill the emptiness in me, left by my father's drinking absence. It was gratifying to elicit excitement and arousal in the masculine ones, because one could see it right away, though fairly inappropriate for a boy to do, pre-pre-teen. I was verging on solicitous with ultra physical contact, always moving my body to get to James' lap. He was the boyfriend of my mom's roommate bestie Shana, who NEVER wore clothes. I learned later Shana's sexual abuse past as a girl played out of that. Mom’s family background had been saturated with over-sexualization, as so ours came to be. She joined with gorgeous, promiscuous, sex minded girlfriend Shana as our roommate. She had a biracial son younger than I, with the very attractive black young man, James. They seemed similar to me regarding nudity, she hardly wore clothes to covering up her beauty, ever, at all. That seemed to make way for all their openly visible sex sessions at random. James' attractiveness was raw sexiness, sexually free as he wanted, in his own comfort and preferences, which as a general guideline kept nudity primary too. I didn’t have to worry about him admonishing me about my hands in my pants or putting clothes on. James' daily dress went from shorts or boxers, to thin, sexy speedos. We developed a regular game, with him being there when my bath time was done, as I’d sprint out & hop to his lap, still wet and naked in a towel. In his lap I made steps using it as a platform to place my hands to lift up my small butt and reposition to a more pleasing place, getting a full feel of his "presence" under my hands. I knew the appearance of closeness mom thought was fine, but it restricted my impulses, so I took to wild masturbation streaks downstairs past bed time, while everyone slept. One night James heard me out in the living room, on the floor. Their room light came on, he came to see what I was doing, approaching quietly, making the shushing finger sign, then grabbed my cheeks with both his strong hands cupped around them, and bent down to kiss me fully, deeply, on my mouth a long time. He quietly stared into my eyes ... as he pulled his underwear off, his breathing quickened, I was dizzy with excitement, adrenaline pumping. He cradled me to his chest and then pressed my body against his, and held me tight, warm, I loved him.