stunner miss Annika
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  • Years:
  • 23
  • Service for:
  • Gentleman
  • Tint of my iris:
  • I’ve got large hazel eyes but I use colored contact lenses
  • What is the color of my hair:
  • Gray
  • Body features:
  • My figure features is strong
  • My favourite music:
  • I like folk


The night before Susan and Rob allowed their son to go to preschool in a dress, they sent an e-mail to parents of his classmates. For good measure, their e-mail included a link to information on gender-variant children. Some days at home he wears dresses, paints his fingernails and plays with dolls; other days, he roughhouses, rams his toys together or pretends to be Spider-Man. Even his movements ricochet between parodies of gender: on days he puts on a dress, he is graceful, almost dancerlike, and his sentences rise in pitch at the end. Of course, had Alex been a girl who sometimes dressed or played in boyish ways, no e-mail to parents would have been necessary; no one would raise an eyebrow at a girl who likes throwing a football or wearing a Spider-Man T-shirt.


The game was beginning to pall, and I realized that I was in danger of breaking my steady string of victories over baby sitters. Rah rah rah! It did, too; but, more importantly, the thought of wearing a girl's cos- tume--I don't know, but I felt a mysterious attraction for it. I put on a pair of Mom's nylons once And I'll bring you some nylons, too. Barbara got a sly look on her face.

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But it felt so nice on me that I forgot all about my plans for driving Barbara crazy. Here's a pirate costume. Well, I thought it was a cheerleader's costume, so I cheer-led, dancing, kicking, and yelling things like "Fight, team, fight! Barbara must have known this, but she probably thought I wouldn't know the difference, which I didn't, and that cheerleader sounded more attractive.

I said, "Yeah, it feels nice. It wasn't the cheap, sleazy material that the other costumes were made of; this was the genuine article, and I sensed this. I thought you might like trying them on. My brother used to wear it when he went out on Hallowe'en. I was turned off already.

And they felt good, very comfortable. The issue was usually about what sort of game we were going to play to keep me occupied and out of trouble. The lure of the forbidden, I suppose it was.

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Keeping me occupied was the price of peace. Barbara was about five or six years older than I was, a freshman in high school. I gave her no peace until, finally, sleepiness overtook me and she put me to bed.

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In fact, it's real neat. A cheerleader costume. You want to wear panties? But you won't want to wear it.

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Then came bedtime and the usual struggle to get me to go to bed. But after I had scornfully rejected all the things she proposed, she said. Put on different clothes and see how you look in them. More than comfortable: they felt as if they belonged on me.

But Barbara was made of sterner stuff than the others, or maybe she saw something the others didn't.

Not your average teen boy

By rights I should have objected to that word "cute. I was ready to refuse the next costume out of hand. There was only one thing missing. The dress was a castoff dress of hers, of course. I was 9 years old and the terror of every sitter my parents engaged. I stripped to my briefs and put the costume on. Well, it wasn't, really. Don't girls wear, uh, panties, under this? I made the usual kid noises--"Yaah! Everybody better look out! I thought I'd hold off on the harassment for a bit. But this time it was real, because going to bed meant taking off the dress and I hated to do that.

I tried all the usual things on Barbara, too: I didn't want to do this, I didn't want to do that; anything she proposed was something I didn't want to do. Because the next time my parents went out, there she was again. That must have been because the other costumes were fake while this was real. The skirt felt nice on my legs, and the ruffles looked good on me.

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It felt good. Whatever it was, the moment he said it was a girl's costume, I wanted to wear it.

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This wasn't just a costume; these were real girl's clothes I was wearing. Why she had kept her old clothes over all those years I don't know. Wanted it even more than tormenting my sitter. I always resisted going to bed; that was part of my strategy for tormenting sitters.

I couldn't explain it, but it just felt good. You've got two choices. Later, when I got to high school, I found out what cheerleaders really wore and this was nothing like it. But I was also just a little curious. So she got out--I forget what it was, but it was some other kid thing.

What to do if your young boy wants to wear girls clothes

Aren't you supposed to wear nylons with this? It's a girl's costume. I gave Barbara the Treatment, too. But Barbara said.

A weekend at camp for gender-variant children

Try me. But there was something else, too. So I made no objection.

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It started with my baby sitter, Barbara. I'm a pirate! So I put on the pinafore. A pirate costume. This was a pinafore, much more modest than a cheerleader's costume and more feminine.

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It was a white skirt, a white blouse with ruffles, and a sort of blue apron affair that went over both. For some reason I hesitated over this.

What about gender neutral clothing?

See how it feels to wear them. Well, to make a long story short, I sat around in Barbara's pinafore all the rest of that evening. But I don't have the right underwear. I put that on and rejected it immediately.

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And I entered on the same campaign of harrassment. I'll wear anything. I figured that was the last of Barbara. Barbara was the latest in a long string of young girls who would sit for me once and then refuse to come back.

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Golly, you make a real nice looking girl!

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Boys simply wear clothes even if those clothes are are pink, have frills, have pictures of girls on them, have the word girl on them, are a dress.


I would like to tell you about something that happened to me when I was a boy of 14 years old.


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