A Message to You Boys

By NAMB

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This story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced nudity, spanking, and/or sexual activity of preteen and young teen children. This is fantasy, and the author in no way endorses or practices these things on real life. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or view such material, please leave now.
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A Message for You Boys

I’m a girl and I love being a girl. When I was little, I used to believe that boys had all the advantages. I even wanted a penis, so I could pee like they did standing up.

Now I’m glad I don’t have one; they’re the key to the vulnerability of men and boys.

And how do I exploit that vulnerability? All I have to do is be a girl.

Girls are better than boys. That should go without saying across the board. We mature faster than them, we do better than them in school, we are better behaved and have fewer disciplinary problems.

However it is our spirit of cooperation that make us the superior gender.

In prehistoric times Neanderthals and humans lived side-by-side. There is good evidence that Neanderthals might have been every bit as intelligent as us, but that if they could speak, the placement of their voicebox made it difficult for them to do so.

Anatomically, they were muscular and better equipped to handle the harsh conditions of the ice age. In a one-on-one competition, my money is on the Neanderthal. However, life isn’t a one-on-one competition. Because humans speak better, we organized better and cooperated better. The difference of speech and cooperation was the difference between survival and extinction.

Girls are better equipped to speak. Our brains are organized better for language. Girls learn foreign languages better than boys, understand poetry better and make successful authors.

We also cooperate better even when it comes to sex.

When boys get together to talk about sex, it’s all about who has the biggest penis or who “got to first base” with their girlfriends. It’s like a sporting event where the boys compete against one another and keep score. Of course they exaggerate and inflate their own conquests to make other boys feel inferior to them. The braggart, in turn, is made to feel inferior by the boasts of his mates.

They set an unrealistically high bar for sexual performance that no boy can reach. Poor fellows. It’s another reason I feel sorry for boys.

Now when girls get together to talk about sex, it’s entirely different. They don’t go into the physical details of sex and they don’t try to outdo each other. Oh yes, there is no way a girl is going to see a boy’s penis or watch him do a sex act and not tell her friends, but that is mere reporting.

Girls talk about feelings and what they do to excite their boyfriends and how their boyfriends respond. They deal in fact and not in rumor. I had all the facts of life nailed down by the time I was 8 years old and got them mostly right. On the other hand, I met teenage boys who were clueless.

I knew that boys had penises, and of course, what one looked like. It wasn’t too much later that I learned about the two kinds of penises: cut and uncut.

I knew boys got erections: that was simple physiology; fill the thing with blood and it blows up like a balloon. What I didn’t know at the time was what boys did to make it hard. Then as I got older and talked with more girls I learned that they didn’t do anything. It was us *girls* that made them hard. We controlled it; they didn’t.

I learned about that sperm + egg = baby, but again, I had no idea how boys decided when to make pee or make sperm. I should not have been surprised that they had no control over that too! Stimulate the penis and it *will* cum.

So intercourse made sense. We girls are too sophisticated to use the word, “fuck.” I also learned that boys used various means to stimulate their penises and that it was called jerking off or in a more general sense, masturbation and that every boy does it.

One of my friends even told me that her cousin told her that she did it to her boyfriend. She actually touched his thing and made it cum!

I’m not sure if I’d like doing that. I like the idea of seeing a boy naked, provided I had my clothes on. Maybe I’d even be interesting in seeing him jerk off and cum. That’s one of the reasons I said “mostly” when I said I knew the facts of life at 8 years old. I’ve since learned that it’s not like pee. It doesn’t come out in a stream, but rather it pumps out in squirts.

But to actually touch it? Well maybe if I had rubber gloves on like the kind doctors use.

So here I am, 11 years old. I haven’t even had my period yet. Adults think I’m still a girl. I ‘m actually a woman. I know more about sex than boys half again my age.

I know what makes them tick. I know their weaknesses. I know how to excite them and I love doing it.

There’s a thrill I get when I watch one of my friends walk by a group of boys and they wrench their necks around to see her. They are almost drooling. It’s fun to look at them and see the lumps in their crotches – and not just boys our age (who cares about them anyway) but older boys and even some men! Score one for us girls!

And now I enjoy being an experienced temptress.

So, silly boy, I see you looking at me. Don’t deny it. We girls can tell.

It starts with my blond hair, done up in a girlish, sporty style, tied up in a jaunty pony tail. Imagine how it must look when I release it: flowing down to caress my shoulders.

I don’t do much with makeup. You’ll agree that my face is pretty enough without it, but just a touch to accentuate a lash here and a brow there and the slightest bit of high-gloss, transparent pink on my plump lips gets all you boys’ attention.

With my hair pulled up like this you can see my neck: smooth, slender and graceful. I know you would love to nibble on it, but not today, boy. It’s to look at, not to touch.

Go ahead and look at my halter top. I may not have big breasts, but they are pert and firm and teasingly visible as they gently tent out the material, not like the monster bulge you have between your legs.

Look at my bare midriff. Like what you see? See how my body curves in there seductively. Look at my navel. I have an “outie.” Isn’t it cute? Wouldn’t you like to kiss it?

Keep those eyes moving down to my shorts where my hips flare out in female perfection. You should see my rear end. It’s pretty enough just sitting there, but when I move it and shake it, it will mesmerize you.

But keep your eye on the prize. What treasure do I have hiding in there? I see your gaze focusing on the tempting “V:” the symbol of the sacred feminine. Think about it. Imagine it. Imagine what it would feel like against your face, the soft flush of pubic hair, the sweet smell of girlness. *POOF* You’ll never see it <giggle>.

And my legs. Look down and up my long silky legs. Quite shapely don’t you think? And there is so much of them from floor to crotch and back to floor again.

And finally, my feet. Normally, I’m a sneakers kind of girl. I like the bounce they put into my step. But when I’m on the prowl like a lioness after her prey, I wear sandals. You boys have feet too, but they aren’t as delicate, nor do they look as pretty. It’s worth accessorizing them with a thin bracelet and pink toenails to match my lipstick.

I get a twinge when I think how you would love to lay down in front of me and worship them, kissing them and licking my toes; perhaps even taking them into your mouth to suck on them.

So here I am before you in all my pre-teen feminine perfection: literally from head to toe – all girl and all powerful.

Don’t torture yourself any longer. You know that monster in your pants is hungry and begs to be fed. You could go home and beat off to the memory of me or you can bare yourself right now and do it in the moment and I will watch and I will smile knowing that you really want to do it but *I* made you do it. Girl Power is more than just a slogan; it’s a way of life.

And I don’t have to do a thing, all I have to do is be a GIRL!

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