mommys helping hands pt 2
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Mommy's Darling 4: Getting Caught free porn video
Mommy's Darling 4: Getting Caught - By Billie Lovelace
After that fateful Halloween I became obsessed with women. Not girls my
own age, but older women -- glamorous, full-bosomed matrons in heavy
makeup, sky-high heels, and form-fitting dresses.
I stared at them and dreamed about them. When I saw them on the street
or in a department store, I'd furtively follow them, captivated by the
assertive click-click-click of their powerful high heels, their long
painted nails, and the shape and movement of their ample bosoms. I was
thrilled when I got close enough to smell their perfume.
But that's as far as it went. I was, after all, a shy, scrawny 14-year-
old with what Margie led me to believe was a laughably small penis.
Besides, she threatened to cut it off if I ever came on to a woman like
a man. So when other boys started chasing after girls, I started
sneaking into mother's bedroom and dressing up in her clothes. If I
couldn't come on to the glamorous women I adored, I'd come on to the
next best thing -- the sexy clothes they wore.
The instant I stepped into mother's bedroom, I felt more girlish. My
wrists went limp, my gait shortened, and my hips assumed a feminine
wriggle. A look at her vanity reminded me of the happy hours I'd spent
seated at her side as she did her makeup and nails and put on her
jewelry.
I remembered the first time mother coaxed me into wearing lipstick and
then the way she kissed me, hugged me and stimulated my sensitive
nipples when I did. I remembered her smile as I brushed her hair,
polished her nails, and helped her in and out of her high heels. I
remembered the time she and Margie took me to her closet and encouraged
me to play dress up -- and then felt me up and told me how pretty I
looked. And I remembered last Halloween when they dressed me up as a
French maid -- complete with fishnet stockings, spike-heeled shoes, and
a lacy apron and cap.
After this trip down memory lane, I began my little ritual. First I
picked out a lacy black bra. I lifted it to my lips and worshipfully
kissed it and inhaled its sweet scent. Then, having mastered the
womanly art of fastening it behind my back, I expertly put it on. I
fingered my little titties through the sensuous lace till my nipples
stood up and a pleasant sensation radiated across my chest. After this
I selected a pair of matching panties. I held them to my face and
reverently rubbed my forehead and cheeks along the silky material. I
closed my eyes and devoutly kissed mother's panties. Then I put them
on.
I turned next to a garter belt and stockings. I picked out a lacy black
garter belt and lovingly kissed the darling little bows on it. Then I
selected a pair of ultra-sheer black nylons. I reverently kissed and
rubbed my face on them. Then I rolled them up and pulled them up my
legs. The silky nylons felt just like mother's silky hands the first
time she'd pulled her stockings up my legs. I fastened the stocking
tops to the garters. Then I ran my hands up and down the silky
stockings, seductively smoothing them out just like mother did.
Next I picked out a pair of her 5-inch heels. I held one of these
erotic symbols of feminine power and authority in my hands and admired
its wicked beauty. Then I closed my eyes and worshipfully kissed,
licked, and sucked the powerful spike heel. "Mmm, mmm, mmm," I softly
murmured and the sharp stiletto heel penetrated my pursed and soon-to-
be painted lips. I put on mother's heels and girlishly minced over to
her closet. I loved the silky caress of nylons and lingerie as I
wriggled my hips in heels and could feel my penis stiffen with each
dainty step. I looked down and smiled at my tented panties.
Then I'd slip into a sexy peignoir or negligee and make my way over to
mother's vanity where I made myself up. Having spent years adoringly
watching mother apply makeup, I knew exactly what to do. Then I put on
a pair of her old clip-on ear rings, a necklace, bracelets, a sexy
anklet, and a pair of ultra-feminine, red velvet gloves.
I felt safe and secure, sexy and exciting, dressed in mother's clothes
-- safe and secure because I couldn't be mistaken for a macho man like
my father; sexy and exciting because I identified the erotic caress of
satin and lace with the erotic touch of the women I loved.
I stood up and practiced girlishly wriggling my hips while mincing
about in high heels. With all this practice, I was becoming quite
graceful and sexy -- almost as good as mother and Margie. I stood
before mother's floor length mirror and struck a variety of ultra-
feminine poses. Then I closed my eyes and seductively ran my gloved
hands over my feminized body, feeling myself up as if I were a woman.
I'd imagine it was mother or Margie or one of ladies at the Halloween
party who was feeling me up.
Finally I put on a condom. I laid on mother's bed, closed my eyes, and
stroked and caressed my feminized 'pee wee' till, girlishly squealing
and moaning, I harmlessly filled it with love cream. I performed this
little ritual for nearly a year. It was the highlight of my week and I
couldn't imagine living without it. Nor could I imagine cuming without
wearing lipstick, lingerie, nylons, and heels. Then I got caught!
One Friday night, after mother had gone out, I slipped into her room as
usual and began getting dressed. I had changed into lacy bra and
panties, nylons and heels, and a filmy black negligee and was seated at
her vanity. I picked up a tube of lipstick and removed the cap. Judging
from the shade, it was the same lipstick mother had used before going
out. As I twisted the base and watched the phallic tip emerge from the
tube, I was reminded of the first time mother had painted my lips.
I was reluctant then, but now I loved the taste and feel of wearing
lipstick and the thrill of putting it on. I stared at the tip of the
lipstick. The last thing it touched had been mother's lips. So I closed
my eyes, pursed my lips, and passionately kissed it -- the next best
thing, I thought, to placing my lips on mother's. Then I painted my
lips. I had blotted a first coat was about to put on a second when I
was interrupted by a long, low wolf-whistle. I was so surprised, so
scared. I looked up and there, standing in the doorway, was mother!
I was totally mortified! How long had she been watching me? Had she
seen me kissing the tip of her lipstick? Would she be angry with me for
sneaking into her bedroom and dressing up in her clothes? For wearing
her lipstick? Did she know I jerked off? What would she do? Would she
punish me? Humiliate me? Take me by the ear and parade me before the
neighbors? Tell Margie? Tell all my friends?
Larger than life in sky-high heels, heavy makeup, and a low-cut, form-
fitting dress, mother noticed at the little bulge in my panties. She
smiled and seemed to savor my humiliation as my fear and shame caused
it to shrivel up. Then, with an assertive click-click-click of her
sharp stiletto heels, she came towards me.
"Don't be ashamed or embarrassed, dear," she said as she drew me to her
large perfumed bosom and gave me a warm reassuring hug. "It's perfectly
natural to play dress up in mommy's pretty clothes. It shows you're
attracted to women, but afraid to come on like a man. So you turn on to
bras and panties instead. That's not naughty, dear. It's really quite
sweet. It shows you're still mommy's darling. And I love you for it."
She told me to finish my makeup. She smiled as I skillfully painted my
lips, rouged my cheeks, and applied heavy eyeliner, mascara, and eye
shadow. "That's just perfect, darling," she said. "You're an expert
with makeup. Where did you learn to do that? Who taught you?"
"I learned right here, mother," I said, "from you. From all the times I
watched you doing your makeup. You're so pretty. I loved you. I wanted
to be pretty like you. I hoped maybe then you'd love me too."
Mother's warm smile told me I'd said the right thing. She took me to
her bed and sat down beside me. "A girly boy as pretty and sexy as
you," she said, "is just made for loving, isn't she, darling? Say it.
Say it, dear. Tell me you want to be a girly boy and have lady to come
on to you. To hold you and kiss you and hug you and feel you up."
As always mother knew exactly what was on my mind. There's nothing I
wanted more than to surrender my manhood to a glamorous, full-bosomed,
domineering woman and to be held and kissed and hugged and felt up as a
girl. This is what I dreamed of night and day. Now mother wanted me to
confess it -- to shamefully say it out loud.
"Yes, mother," I humiliatingly admitted.
"Yes, what dear?"
"Yes, I want to dress and act like a pretty girl and have a lady come
on to me -- and hold me and kiss me and hug me and feel me up."
"Is that the way you want to relate to women, dear? Do you want to
surrender your manhood to them and be passive and submissive in love?
Or do you want to be rough and aggressive like your father?"
"I don't want to be like my father," I said. "I want to relate to women
like I relate to you. I want to surrender my manhood to them and be
gentle and submissive in love."
"Good, darling," mother said. "That's very sweet. I'm glad you want to
be different than your father. And I'm glad you can admit it. Now, for
being so sweet, mommy's going to give you a reward -- she's going to
make your dream come true."
She took me into her arms and French-kissed me and began feeling me up.
I was thrilled as she stimulated my sensitive nipples, stroked my
stocking-sheathed thighs, and fondled my panty-clad penis.
That night I'd selected a bra with a front clasp. Mother released the
clasp and began fondling my nipples. "Margie's right, dear," she said.
"You?re a born girly boy. Look how your little titties react to wearing
a bra and being stroked and caressed -- they're just like a girls'.
They're so hard and erect. It feels good, doesn't it, when I stroke and
caress them. Boys' titties aren't usually this responsive. And how do
you like this?" at which point she began kissing and sucking my stiff
nipples.
"Ohhhh, ohhhh, ohhhh," I girlishly moaned as mother French-kissed and
sucked my sensitive nipples. "Yes, mother, you're right. I love it. I
love having my titties kissed and caressed. It feels so good. If this
make me a girly boy, I don't want to change. I like being a girly boy."
Mother smiled. Then she placed my hand on my feminized erection and
extracted another shameful confession. "You play with yourself, don't
you darling?" she said. "Don't lie to mommy. I saw the condom on my
vanity. And I've found traces of cum on my lingerie. I know what you
were going to do if I didn't show up. You were going to jerk yourself
off. Mommy knows what boys are like -- even girly boys like you. You
stroke and caress your little peenies when you're alone. You play with
it till gobs of hot, sticky love cream come out, don't you dear? Don't
be ashamed, sweetheart. All boys do it. Now confess to mommy. Tell her
the truth. You've been sneaking into mommy's bedroom, dressing up in
her clothes, and jerking yourself off, haven't you?"
I blushed and averted her gaze. I was so ashamed. "Yes," I softly said.
"Good, darling," she said. "It's good to tell the truth to mommy. Mommy
doesn't mind if you do it. But she doesn't want you doing it behind her
back or doing it wrong. Now show me how you do it."
Anxious to please, I wrapped my fingers around my frantically pulsating
erection and began stroking. "No, darling," mother said. "That's all
wrong. That's the way boys do it. But you can't do it like a boy. If
you dress like a girl, sweetie, you have to pleasure yourself like a
girl. So keep your fingers straight, dear, and pointed down. Then, ever
so gently, touch your fingertips to the tip of your panty-clad knob,
your little girly boy clitty. Be dainty and feminine. That's it, dear -
- very gentle, very girlish. Don't you just love your sexy panties,
dear? Don't they feel good against your skin -- so exquisitely silky
and feminine -- just as if a pretty lady were touching you?"
"Use just your fingertips, dear. Lightly brush your girly boy clitty
with them. That's why girls like long, pointed fingernails. It feels so
good, so seductively sensual, when you gently, delicately pleasure
yourself with them. Gently, now, ever so gently, run the tips of your
fingers up and down the shaft with a light, feathery touch. That's it,
dear. Dainty and ladylike. Not hard and fast, like a man, but gentle
and slow, like a woman. Doesn't it feel good, darling? Isn't it nice to
wear satin and lace and make love to yourself like a girl?"
I did exactly as mother said. As usual, she was right. It was much
better -- much more sensual and exciting -- pleasuring myself as a girl
than as a boy. "You know, dear," mother said, "Margie's right about
your penis too. It really is quite small. But I like it, darling --
it's petite, just like you. `Petite' is a nicer word than `pee wee'.
It's more positive, more feminine. You're a "petite" girly boy --
pretty and petite. And size doesn't matter if you're only pleasuring
yourself, dear. A petite penis feels just as good to you as it would if
it were bigger. Size only matters if you're trying to satisfy a woman
as a man. But you're too gentle and petite for that, aren't you dear?
You don't want to make love as a man, do you?"
I was so excited that I didn't hear her, so mother angrily reiterated.
"No," I responded.
"No, what?" she asked.
"No, I don't want to make love as a man. Besides, I can't. I'm
too petite to satisfy a woman as a man."
Mother smiled with approval. "There are other ways to satisfy a woman,"
she said, "than as a man. Women can satisfy women. So can girly boys
like you. Maybe when you're older and living on your own you'll date a
woman like Margie and she'll show you how."
Then mother just how good is was and the nice feeling when you touch
yourself that way -- gentle and slow like a girl? "Now take one hand
and play with your nipples. Touch and fondle and stimulate them, just
like I have. They should be just as erect and feel just as good as your
little penis. Lightly, dear -- delicately, girlishly. Be ladylike. At
the same time continue to touch and caress your petite peenie with the
other hand. Gentle, dear, gentle! Remember, sweetie, soft and slow like
a girl, not hard and fast like a man."
I did exactly as mother said. I was learning pleasure myself as a girly
boy -- and it felt so good! My breathing became faster and heavier and
my breasts and nipples felt nearly as good as my penis.
Finally, mother drew me to her bosom and said, "Okay, dear, now cum for
me. It's okay, sweetheart, you can cum now. Love momma, darling. Love
me, like a sweet little girly boy. Cream my panties. Cum for me,
sweetheart. Let it all out. Give it to me -- all your love. Cream my
pretty panties, dear. Give me all your love. Cum to me, darling. Cum to
momma. Cum."
Unable to resist, and without a condom, I harmlessly released gob after
gob of hot, sticky love cream into mother's soft silky panties as she
hugged and caressed me and praised me for being so sweet. What a
thrill! Never had I experienced such exquisitely exciting sensations.
And all the while I was receiving the maternal love, acceptance, and
approval I desperately longed for. Making love as a man, I thought,
couldn't possibly be as good as this.
Later, after I cleaned myself up, mother dressed me in one of her sexy
baby-doll nighties. Then she took me to my bed. She tucked me in and
sat down beside me. She bent down, placed her freshly painted lips on
mine, and gave me a deep, soul-searching kiss. As she was leaving the
room she gave me a sly little smile.
"Pleasant dreams, sweetie," she said. "You're mommy's darling now. Now
and forever! So sleep tight. You have a big day tomorrow. You're too
old to be dressing up in mommy's clothes. So mommy's going to take you
shopping for some pretty clothes of your own. Won't that be fun, dear?
Your first bra? And your very own panties, nylons, and heels? So
`night, >dear. Sleep tight. And dream of all the pretty things you'll
buy tomorrow. "
To be continued...
Kierra
- 21.07.2021
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