Simple, Sane Old Faggot

There was always the class skit night in high school where we all got to do some dumb shit that we thought people/parents would laugh at.  Senior year someone came up with the bright idea for a “drag skit.”  Mind you, a drag night in the 1960’s would have been completely different than a drag night in the 2020’s… different connotations, these were just goofy guys dressing up as girls to compete in a “Best Dressed/Authentic” contest for a bunch of old coonasses and rednecks to judge.

If you can picture a big Viking-type bimbo in 1965 then you can picture my Mom.  She even used the term “Viking Pin-up” to humorously describe herself back then.  Well, I figured incorrectly that she might lend me something to wear since she was 6’0” and 190 pounds of tits, ass, and legs and I was a 3-4 inches taller and just 20 pounds heavier just before turning 17.

I got the “you’re not ruining any of my clothes” routine plus “mini-skirts are in so you should show off your legs and the ass you inherited from me” and “your Aunt Jo will do your makeup and you can stuff one of my bras and we’ll get you a sweater and some pantyhose and heels and pimp your ass up my child.”

By the time I learned to walk down that runway with those heels I was really beginning to like the look and feel of the skirt, not to mention the audacious makeup job my Aunt Jo gave me along with a fabulous blonde wig.

The principal assured me I was showing too much leg but he let it go because my cock was tucked and taped appropriately and I won the cute little fucking 2 dollar trophy in a landslide vote.  If I could have had my Aunt Jo stay alive and agree to do my makeup the next 30 years I’m sure I would have been the biggest damn drag queen not from Brazil.

I really liked girls and it seemed they really liked me. But I really LOVED cock. The taste, smell, feel of cock on me, around me, inside me. Pleasuring another guy really seemed to be my purpose on earth and had I not met this particular woman when I was 20 and she was 18, there is no doubt I would have had male partners all these years.

And we stayed together not so much because I loved her pussy and she loved my cock, but because she loved all pussy and all cock and she was hell bent to fuck as many people as she could before menopause and I was the perfect vehicle for her to accomplish that.

Praise Allah and ready to be converted and been a ew muslimah to worship with me

Sure, there were sissies.  I was one of the biggest ones you could have met.

Sure, sissies sometimes dressed up in women’s clothes, and I certainly did although it was mostly for parties or where guys really wanted a faggot in drag.  And for sure I always wore women’s panties and pantyhose in the winter and thigh-highs in the summer when dressing for work.  Whatever I could find that fit a 6’6” 260 pound athletic frame.

But in South Louisiana where I grew up, there weren’t Niqabs, Hijabs, and Burkas and whatever Muslimas wear, or I would have damn sure worn them.

One of my wife’s friends recently commented on my eyes which are blue-green and still look lots of years younger than I am.  My wife recounted a story about my aunt Jo who was responding to a comment that I looked more like her than her sister, my mother.  She said “watch this,” and proceeded to apply lipstick and eye makeup as I protested that she not put makeup on my face or I’d never get to live it down.

My wife told our friend, “He looked just like his Aunt Jo!  He was fucking gorgeous!”

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