Easter at the Creepy Twin s House
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Easter Givings free porn video
Easter Givings ? by: Dee Eon
It began shortly after the first day of spring in Aunt Em's Victorian
rural home after my foster 'mom' and I finished breakfast.
"Peter," she said fondly with a poignant sad look. "These three years
you've been with me have been the happiest I've ever had. I'm now sure
those social workers are eating crow for calling you a very troublesome
child. I'm only sorry I hadn't cared for you since you were seven after
your parents' terrible car accident."
"I know, Aunt Em," I quietly with a sober lump in my throat, trying
to sound chipper and perky like any twelve-year-old but it was hard
after she broke the grim news last week.
"Now, since it'll be the last Easter I'll ever know--"
My heart twitched. "Aunt Em, don't say that!" I cried. "You'll get
better! You gotta!"
"Peter, I wish it wasn't true. We've already gone through this. You
needn't worry because I'm placing you in a good foster home before I
die."
"No! I wanna stay here -- with you! You're the best foster mom I ever
had!" I flung myself around her and she stroked my short locks.
"There is only one wish I miss...but I don't know if you can
fulfill it."
"Anything, Aunt Em! Anything!"
She paused, looking at me with imagining wistful eyes. "You're
everything I could wish in a grandson, yet...I miss what it's like
having a granddaughter, especially now that Easter is coming in two
weeks. You've seen how my quilting-bee friends are always bragging
about their granddaughters! About how proper and pretty they are at
Easter church service then the Easter Pageant, strolling along with
them all lovely in pink and lace, so happy and proud they've such
pretty children. O, I'd hate to die never having that feeling!"
"I'm sorry, Aunt Em!" I sincerely said, feeling awkward at feeling
her angst but understanding it. Whenever her quilting-bee dropped by,
all they ever clucked about were their granddaughters and nieces and
how nice and pretty and smart they were.
And poor Aunt Em had nothing to say or show.
She smiled a wistful look. "Maybe you don't have to feel sorry, Peter.
Maybe there's a way you can help grant my wish before I die."
"Huh? How??" I asked and she paused.
"If you do something very, very special for me only for Easter weekend,
even though you might feel very funny about it or much too scared to do
it even though no one else will ever know."
"Don't worry 'bout that, Aunt Em! Doing what?" I asked, muting the
slight to my courage.
"If maybe--just for one day, can you pose as my granddaughter?"
"Huh?" I blinked aback, not entirely sure I understood then with a gasp
of dismay I scanned her eyes for any sly sparkle of any joke. None.
"You--you want me to pose as--as a--a girl??"
"Just this Easter weekend. I just once want to pretend that I'm showing
my bee that I've a granddaughter of my very own!"
"Er...huh, see...I mean...but, I'm a boy, Aunt Em," I gingerly demurred
and emphasized. "I mean, isn't there a girl somewhere else who can pose
way better than me we can ask to??"
"I would--but it wouldn't be the same. If I ever had a real god
daughter, I'd want her to be exactly like you, Peter," she gently said
in a weird complimentary way. She patted my hand. "Peter. It'd mean so
much to me before I die," she said like a flattering plea to my total
nonplused look. I didn't want to say no to someone who didn't treat me
like some temporary boarder at a vet, but at the same time my budding
male ego well qualms.
But then she was dying. Consternated, bemused, naive and even a little
guilty, I gnashed my lip in front her asking smile. But how bad can it
be since boys and girls all look the same anyway?
"Oh well," my naivet? sighed, "I...I guess so, Aunt Em."
"Oh, thank you, hon!" she nearly squealed, kissing me. "You just don't
know how much this means to me! I can't wait to see the faces of my bee
when they see my God-daughter visiting for Easter! Oh, we'd best be
shopping right away!"
"Didn't we get everything at the supermarket yesterday?"
She tittered and tweaked my cheek, "Such a darling! I mean shopping
for your Easter outfits!"
"Easter outfit??" I braced in sinking apprehension. "Mean...I'm not
wearing jeans and sneakers like everyone else??"
"Of course not! Not on Easter! Only the best dresses and ensembles
will do for my God-daughter!"
The horror of my commitment sunk in. "You mean I--I gotta wear a--a--
real girls' clothes??" I blurted, unable to even say the words.
"Why, of course! A girl should dress like a girl, not a boy!"
"But I am a--!" My balk gnashed its lip, just unable to shatter the
happiness shining her face after so many months in the dark doldrums.
Man! What a way to spend Easter Break!
"There we go!" Aunt Em happily chimed as she brushed my sandy locks so
they no longer hid my ears in a boyish shag but rushed them in a swept-
back pixie cut on one side of my face.
My chagrin didn't need any mirror to tell it was a sissy style. Aunt Em
read my silent grimace. "Well, you know why I have to do this before we
go shopping, Peter, right?"
"So no one will think 'Tiffany's really a boy," I murmured with a
rueful sigh that merely brushing my hair in a fancy girl's style was
enough to pass me as one without even changing my jeans, sneakers or
sweatshirt. But then ever since kindergarten people from substitute
teachers to strangers were always mistaking me for a 'pretty tomboy'
half the time. It really sucked and contributed to pumping my macho
swagger and bad attitude even before my folks' fatal car crash.
That's why I was a little surprised that I didn't put up more of a
protest to Aunt Em's crazy proposal, but then I chalked it up to only
paying back someone who plucked me out of an orphanage zoo and treated
me as one of her own family instead as a road to a check.
Besides, she was dying.
"Done!" Aunt Em said, standing back and nodding at my new hairstyle.
"Now to brush-up your delicate demeanor as well!"
"I'm not mean, Aunt Em!"
"No, no, I meant the way you come across to people. If you wish to pass
for a girl you have to move like a girl, act like a girl, think like a
girl."
It all seemed like an awful lot of trouble and humiliation to teach me
how girls don't really sit and walk and gesture, still, after an hour
Aunt Em felt I was ready for shopping. Aunt Em admonished my pose in
The car once or twice to keep my knees and ankles welded together,
which only made me more nervous about looking a dainty sissy to any
schoolmates I might run into at the mall as I timidly followed Aunt Em
into 'All Belles Boutique'.
First we headed for the shoe section where my Reeboks came off and Aunt
Em picked out a pair of sissy looking robin's-egg blue patent leather
pumps with cute blue bows and charcoal suede skimmers.
"Why two pair, Aunt Em?"
"One's dress, the other casual," she answered as though everyone knew
that, moving on to the dreaded junior fashions department. I'm sorry,
but my new hairdo just wasn't a disguise enough, and acting like I was
tagging along while she shopped for a sister, I idly watched her comb
through aisle of fluffy laces and silks and chiffons.
"Come Tiffany, chose an outfit!"
I winced at my cover-name and anxiously glanced about if anyone heard.
"Aunt Em, please don't call me that here."
"Oh, don't fret, Peter! They see a tomboy, not boy! Now pick your
favorite color!"
"I don't have any, Aunt Em." I politely but unenthusiastically
answered.
"Tiffany, just touch the dresses. This is what you're wearing to church
too!" Her serious reverent tone somehow diminished the sissy shame of
the dresses almost to picking out a suit, and somewhat begrudgingly I
felt the silky garments and the soft smoothness tingled up my fingers.
For some reason the sensation was almost welcome, even somehow familiar
and seemed to assuage my male ego's qualms.
Aunt Em chose eight dresses for me to take to the try-on room where
I briefly but lamely balked at stripping down to my underwear before
her, but once again my embarrassment fell strangely feeble and wafted
entirely as she led my passage within forbidden alien clothing as
strange giggly waves of ticking delight rippled through me as the
smooth brush of sateen and lace caressed my skin. It was so weird
because I never anticipated that the mere touch of clothing could be so
dynamically sumptuous, yet reaping those sensations easily overwhelmed
any self-consciousness. Maybe it was because I knew that my damning
dissembling was only temporary and likely a once-in-a-lifetime dare to
indulge the strangeness of it.
After a hour of surprise enjoyment I settled on a white accordion silk
dress with a nautical-looking mint pastel top and Aunt Em bought a
roll-brim satin-ribboned bonnet, white knit gloves and frilly anklets
and a package of ivory tights to go with it, then moved over to an
aisle of casual clothes and took down a plaid jumper.
"What's that for?" I asked.
"Well, you can't wear your Easter best all weekend!"
I sighed. I compromised from her frilly preferences with a powder blue
Blouse and a teal jumper whose skirt was really a flared skort which I
figured might make me feel more like I was wearing a pair of shorts
instead of a skirt, especially since I could still wear boys'
underpants, but somehow I still lost more boys' identity by completing
my look with frilly ankle socks and suede skimmers.
Man! What a pretty sissy! "Lovely!" Aunt Em said to my muffled smirk as
my chagrin modeled before I turned for the try-on room. "No, don't
change, Tiffany. I think we're wear those out."
I frowned with a shiver, "But what about my real clothes?"
"I'll stuff them in a bag. I think you should start getting used to
wearing your new clothes around people before the bee drops in."
"But--but I can't leave like this!" I blurted in fringe horror.
"There're kids from my school all over the mall! If they see me like
this I'm doomed!"
"Don't fret, Peter. I won't embarrass you, I promise," she said,
leading me over to the wig department to drape several different
tresses over my head.
Weird! Still, it was fun seeing my different brunette, redhead and
raven selves in the mirror, finally settling on a flaxen-blonde number
with heaps of roiling curls that cascaded around my face and off my
shoulders and halfway to my waist. Black and red hair seemed to focus
more recognizable attention on my face, but blonde seemed to partly
distracted you from taking in all my features at once and shuffled my
visage somewhat. I had to admit my total reflection looked pretty in a
cute twin sister sort of way, and when we left the boutique I felt
oddly at peace, that along with my feminine garb I felt reassured that
no one from school was going to recognize me.
"Tiffany, let's have lunch!" Aunt Em suggested, beaming. "Just watch
your mannerisms!"
I thought we were going to MacDonalds, but instead we went to a fancy
place with booths and music boxes at every table.
We left town and in reflection I was surprised and a little bewildered
how overwhelmed I was by my new clothes. I chalked it up to the novelty
of it all; I was quite assured of my boyness to accede to any sissy
inclinations.
Aunt Em woke me around seven o'clock for a Easter breakfast and a
shower and donning my Easter outfit.
I had to first roll tights up my legs which was a new experience,
especially since I was in my underwear with Aunt Em helping me out. It
felt eerie, seeing my skinny legs transformed by a silky vanilla film
into almost elegant columns then over that a crinoline slip whose short
starchy skirt fanned away from my thighs.
"Er, try this now," Aunt Em shyly said, producing a skimpy garment
that made my ego's instinctive horror balk.
"I can't wear that, Aunt Em!"
"But it'll make your dress look better and you a more ladylike young
lady."
"I'm a boy, Aunt Em, not a girl!" I parried and her badly hid wince
tweaked my hurt with selfish guilt, so I sighed and raised my arms for
her to slide the straps over and lower the flat lacy garment over my
chest.
A Bra!! Man, is this sissy shit or what??
As though to quickly cover my humiliation, Aunt Em dropped the mint
pastel dress over my head and tugged its hem down almost to my knees--
which it couldn't touch because the crinoline slip underneath belled
out the white accordion skirt away from my legs.
Which looked kinda old fashioned and neat in a way, especially how
it swirled a little with the smallest twist of the waist. Also my
stuffed bodice was hardly any Mae West; twin hidden pancakes was more
like it, and it did give my garment a teasing kind of budding maturity.
Aunt Em sat me down to lightly powder puff my face and tease my
eyelashes and brush a waxy coral gloss over my gaping lips. After
draping the flaxen tresses over my head with my bonnet on top and
having my ivory-filmed toes work into my eggshell skimmer pumps she let
me face the mirror-- Wow!
My twin sister looked cute in her jumper yesterday, but now she looked
so elegantly proper and winsome and very junior high bunny with her
mildly mounded bodice and nicely shaped legs. But it was her new face
that floored me, so powder-perfect and her gawking eyes so wide in
their feathery nests and gaping lips so eerily becoming with their pale
coral shine... I felt--funny.
"Well, how does it feel, Tiffany?"
I mustered a pleased chuckle not only because I didn't know how to
describe it, but I was kind of embarrassed at just how moved I was as
an trans-adolescent 'tween' dude facing a dolled-up chick closer than
any other girl besides my sister.
Gee, hope I'm not TOO glamorous! I fancied.
"Watch your skirt!" Aunt Em said as I sidled into the car's front seat
after first smoothing my skirt beneath me and burying my folded knit
gloves upon its fullness. I was nervous as heck, despite all the
reassurances Aunt Em chatted, and as we got out a block down from the
church my skittish heart jumped as Aunt Em instantly spotted one of her
bee friends.
"Hi Helen!!" she called an elegant dowager over who kissed her then
considered me. "Helen, my god daughter, Tiffany."
"My, my!" Helen tittered. "What a lovely young lady!"
With that my skittishness of being a boy caught dead in girls clothes
wafted with a stifled smirk as I aptly fanned out my skirt as did a
bob.
"Happy Easter, ma'am."
"Oh, Emma, she's precious! I can't get my god or grandchildren to dress
pretty if I got on my knees! If only they didn't only look this way
only on holidays! Don't you agree, Tiffany?"
"Oh, huh..." I mulled the point, and to my surprise my response came
from the cozy alien feelings of my snug lacy envelope. "Well, it's a
lot nicer than dressing the other way."
Helen beamed. "Well, no tomboy here, eh, Emma??"
"Tiffany's a very special little lady," Emma said, looking fondly at
me. "I couldn't ask for a more considerate and compassionate God-
daughter."
Her beaming face made my bodice swell by a cup size.
I trailed them into church, meeting up with and greeting more of Aunt
Em's cronies who smiled endearingly at my every curtsey which was
quickly losing its sissiness. I spread my skirt as I perched the pew
between Aunt Em and the center aisle. I was never all that religious--
like, not hardly, but being in that crisp soft envelope seemed to coax
a gentleness and reverence of my natures from me I never suspected I
had.
Throughout Easter church service I muffed my yawns behind my knit
gloves and usually when I did the corner of my eye often caught a few
boys craning faces my way, but I was sure that they noticed nothing
different about me as I kept my knees and pumps welded together and
gloves clasped upon my puffy skirt's lap.
After service, the pastor greeted me at the door and Aunt Em
reintroduced me to her cadre as I executed deep curtsies and beamed
headlight smiles as we all took a stroll toward the park.
"They dote you, Tiffany!" Aunt Em happily told me asides then soberly
sighing at all the lovely girls in flouncy silks and lace exiting the
church and headed for Main Street's Easter parade.
Aunt Em certainly got her wish. I was amazed at all the Easter finery,
both whimsical and elegant.
I felt like Aunt Em's fancy pet under the feet of chattering adults so
I idly moseyed over to perch a park bench over looking the duck pond
where swans paddled away from remote-controlled sailboats. I was idly
watching a race of three boats when something made me look up to see a
boy in Easter spruce-up looking my way.
He was staring straight me! My heart seized. Ohmigosh! Craig Caldwell!
One of the eighth-grade jocks! I'm a dead man!
Frantically, I jerked down the floppy front brim of my bonnet to block
my face from sight, but that was definitely a wrong signal.
"Hi."
Oh God! He's right in front of me.
"Hi--hi--" I weakly said still under my blocking brim, my bare knees
knocking.
Jesus! How could I explain this??
"Er, can I ask a question?"
"Huh?"
"Do you have a brother or a cousin who looks a little like you?"
I nearly tittered in my scoffing evasion. "Brother?? No, no way!!" I
blurted, too histrionically, too desperately, and my heart flipped
double as he peeked under my blocking brim to see my face up close/
"Peter???" Craig gushed. "Peter Martin???"
"Peter??" I tittered like a girl bird, turning aside. "Who's Peter?
I--I'm not any Peter! I'm a--a girl! Look!"
"You are Peter!" Craig insisted. "You sound just like him and look a
little like him, but it's really you isn't it?"
I wanted to sink to my feet. There was no reason to deny it. I was
caught. Exposed. The worst nightmare any boy could have.
"Craig, believe me, it's--it's not like it looks! I--It wasn't my idea,
honest! My grandma's dying and she wants to have a God-Daughter to
show off to her friends before she dies except she doesn't have any so
she asked me and I couldn't say no because she's dying so I went along
to the store with her to--"
"Slow down, slow down!" Craig chuckled, grinning at my mortal chagrin
and I wondered how I was going to school next week. "Mean, you're doing
this because your aunt's dying?" he asked and I somberly pointed out
Aunt Em chatting with her bevy. Craig faced me with fascination and a
tweak of something admiring. "Man, that's super kind of you."
"Huh?"
"Like, I don't know if I could do that with my own mother! You must
really like her."
"She's great," I admitted. "She's the only foster mom I had who really
cared about my feelings."
He nodded. "She's lucky someone like you was around."
"Yea...." I sniffled, wondering what now. My school life, my social
life was good as dead. All I wanted to do was to run off and bury my
head somewhere up a pony's rear. Why doesn't he talk?
"So...you went to church too?" I lamely asked to break the tension
and it seemed to catch him off-guard somehow.
"Huh? Er, no, I--I just came over to check out the chicks in the parade
you know?" he rambled then suddenly stopped as though making a flub
somehow, and as though by a contagious afterthought I blushed abashed
too, suddenly very self-conscious.
"Well, I guess I ruined your fun, huh?" I lamely quipped.
"Ruined?" he blurted. "No way!"
"Huh?"
"You look--look awesome!"
I wanted to squash the warmth flattering my face. "Mean super sissy!"
"No way! You're a real babe!"
"Babe??" I snickered at his crude attempt of a burying joke. "What do
you think I am??"
"Pretty--," he gnashed his lip's slipping out, "I mean, I overheard
lots of guys from school here asking who that cool chick with the old
ladies is."
Alarmed I glimpsed about. "Who? Where??"
"Take it easy. They wouldn't guess you're a guy for a million years!"
"Well, didn't take that long for you to find me out," I ruefully said,
anxiously looking around for any more classmates.
He abashedly cleared his throat. "Well, er, not really..."
"What do you mean?"
"Well...actually, I've been watching you for a while...real hard."
"What??"
"I didn't know it was you! I thought I spotted an awesome chick walking
up the street with those old ladies, so I kinda followed you."
"Followed me?"
"Well, I was gonna hit--er, come up to say hi, but you were hanging
with your aunt and her friends.I passed by you several times and saw
your face and after a while something was bothering me about it, like
it was familiar somehow even though I'd remember a pretty one like
that--!"
I smirked and he blushed and hurried on--
"I mean, I'd remember someone looking like you. I figured maybe you
were someone's sister or cousin, that's way, so when you were here
alone I came up to ask you, but I didn't know it was really you till
you opened your mouth just now."
"Great," I muttered. "Knew I should've cut my freakin' tongue out, but
it doesn't matter now, huh?"
"Shit, Peter, I'm not gonna tell anybody, even though you shouldn't
feel ashamed if people did find out why you're doing it."
I was relieved. My secret and face was saved! "Well, I'm never doing
it again, that's for sure!"
Craig frowned. "You're not??"
"Hell, no! I'm no fag!"
"You don't look like any fag, Peter, believe it."
"Well, I'll sure be glad when all this is over so I can change this
stuff!"
"Do you have to?"
"What kinda question's that??"
"Er--well...I was wondering if--if you'd like to hang around a little
and watch the parade. Maybe go to MacDonalds later."
I shook my bonnet. "I can't go any store like this!"
"Why not? You look just like a little Marilyn Monroe, not a fag fairy."
"Marilyn Manson??"
"No, Monroe; someone I saw on TV once. Come-on, it'd be fun!"
"Naw..."
"My treat?"
"Your treat??" I blurted before it dawned my smirk. "Shit, Craig, I'm
no girl!"
"I know, but since you're already all dressed up like one--and it
wasn't your fault--why not just play along like? I mean, it's never
gonna happen again your whole life, so why blow a free Whopper and
fries?"
My smirk mellowed into the fancy of the moment. I barely knew Craig
at school except at P.E., but here he was itching to treat me to
MacDonalds!
As a 'babe'. Something tickled inside me silently titter. "Well, I'm
gonna order a lot if I go!" I half-japed.
"Sure! All you want!"
"I mean take-out too!"
"Hey, no problem!"
"I--I'll think about it," I demurred, in truth already intrigued by
this aspect of attention but not wanting to seem too sissily obliging.
"So, what you think about the World Series?"
"Huh? Oh, yea!" Craig blurted, engaging in guy-to-guy stuff for once
while we watched colorful Easter parade beyond the boat race. Who knows
how long we were chatting, but when Aunt Em suddenly popped into view
snapping an instant camera I was jarred silly.
"I don't mean to interrupt, Tiffany--," she began even though she
was beaming pleased as punch "--but I'm leaving with my friends soon."
"Oh? Er, sure, Aunt Em," I said, semi-relieved and curious as her
camera spit out a picture which she grinned at before handing it to us
and leaving. It was eerily nothing less than Craig sitting by and
chatting with my pretty blonde sister in a cute bonnet and her folded
gloves nestled her dress' billowy skirt and sleek ivory-filmed ankles
crossed under her bench. I was totally unaware that I was in such a
prim poise while talking guy shit. I hoped he didn't notice how much my
crammed role had infected me.
"Wish I had one," Craig wistfully sighed if reading my thoughts.
"Well, least you get to save some money!" I said with a chuckle,
gathering my full skirt up and Craig looked at once anxious and
nonplused.
I mean, he really looked so sober, so disappointed, so cheated, and
even as I thought that amusing my mind flitted back to Aunt Em's full
mirror and how awed and stirred I felt by what I saw. So Craig must be
feeling the same way looking at me!
A sympathetic swell touched my heart and for a few moments I was
perplexed what to do, but a witless, perhaps whimsical instinct
compelled my glove to slightly turn his chin for my quick peck on his
cheek.
"Thanks for not telling anyone," I softly smiled like a grateful tease
to his blushing gawk, and I knew that's just what I would've liked
if I were in his shoes; an playful flit of fancy innocent of sissiness
or fagdom.
I waved and returned to Aunt Em's bee friends as they made their way
out of the park, and just as Aunt Em's car pulled away I could see
Craig watching from behind the trees like a puppy watching its master
abandoning it.
"So, I hope you enjoy yourself today as much as I'm proud of you,"
Aunt Em said.
"It was--okay," I said with ego-muted enthusiasm as I settled back
in my lacy nest.
Yea. It was going to be real interesting after Easter vacation to see
how Craig was going to act towards me at school after giving him that
teasing peck which I hoped he knew was just a joke, and I wondered
whether he'd still be as willing to treat me to MacDonald's as a
regular guy. After all I was still the same person, just different
rags, right?
I stared at the photograph on my lap's gloves and ogled Craig's comely
companion and felt unreasonably jealous of him, even though
intellectually I knew this chick was me.
No. Another, once hidden me. Not a sissy or a fairy, but someone else
entirely... I tittered and basked a smug warm rush, and I had to admit
a weird tingly thrill to being snugly wrapped in such a soft pretty
thing, beneath my spread skirt, my shamefully breezy ivory-filmed
thighs and calves rubbed together with a strange silky slickness that
felt delightful. I licked the waxy gloss of my lips and the wispy curls
brushing my cheeks. So strange, yet so titillating...
I felt a familiar soft breathless excitement I only began experiencing
in the last few weeks whenever I ogled the leggiest and prettiest girls
in the schoolyard or even just thought about them in bed and whenever
it happened--like right now deep my skirt; I could feel a warm quiet
seep escaping me that will quickly chill into a damp spot in my
underpants.
I barely contained a giggle of awe and delight.
Yea, dolling up a girl wasn't so bad, not really. Not between all the
grownup compliments and flattery, and instead of getting knocked down
by a junior jock he was knocked out by the way I looked, and even said
I was pretty and wanted to treat me out even though he knew I was
really a guy. Were my Tiffany-looks really that awesome? I'll have to
check out this 'Marilyn Monroe' and see what Craig meant. I must've
looked better than I knew since he didn't laugh and wasn't going to
blab on me at school. In fact, I almost sensed that if I asked him to
do something for me he'd cheerfully do it but quick, like a happy
hound.
Could this dainty getup of mine really turn macho jocks to jello??
Impishly, wistfully, I wondered whether I made him seep too...
"Tiffany...I want to thank you so for this day," Aunt Em said with a
soft choke between breaths. "I felt so proud, like I really had a grand
daughter rolled up in one, and you charmed everyone like a perfect
little lady. I'm so happy I don't know what else to say. Thank you!"
"You're welcome, Aunt Em," I answered, unslighted and unabashed by
being complimented as a 'little lady', not when that pose gave so many
people so much pleasure and delight. The girl sitting next to Craig was
a space-time wrap parallel twin apart from my existence, a mystery miss
my guy-self could never encounter myself, and I could never share the
same awe and enthrall they all felt looking at her. I felt almost--
cheated.
Like Craig was.
"Aunt Em..." I said, carefully choosing my words, "If it's alright
with you, I...I don't mind being Tiffany again now and then--if you
want."
Aunt Em's eyes went nova with happiness and with one arm hugged my
shoulder close, and even as I moved into her grateful press I wondered
whether a budding junior jock could really indulge Tiffany's sumptuous
virtues and titillating adventures in the strange world of girls
without incurring the damning vice of fagdom and sissihood. I was sure
that with a Halloween mindset I could tickle the dragon's tail and dip
the warm thrill of romantic girlhood without lasting contamination like
stealing a drag of a cigarette or a swig of dad's forgotten beer can,
but I knew in burning the candle at both ends I had to stay out the
middle.
Yea.
Tiffany was sure gonna be one interesting thrill.
END
Fawn
- 12.10.2021
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