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Teresa By Vittorio 1. I was just twelve when my mother and father died in a plane crash, and I went to live with my mother's parents. Mom had decided shortly after my birth that in case she and my father died simultaneously her parents would be my legal guardians. They were quite old, as were my other grandparents. Dad's sister, Beth, much younger, was a more logical choice, but she was unmarried and very career oriented - not the one to take care of a young boy. I lived with them for a year, but when Gramps died of a heart attack the family - Granny and my other grandparents - decided that the guardianship should pass to Aunt Beth. There were no other close kin. In her mid thirties, she had a graduate degree in psychology, which she turned into a successful consulting business. She was a computer whiz - to me her most endearing attribute - but also seemed to be knowledgeable about many things - not just her business - and enjoyed discussing almost any topic. I had never warmed up to Beth, but we had a nice relationship even though our meetings were infrequent. She met me at the airport, gave me a hug and a kiss and exclaimed, "Whoa, Terry, are you the same boy I saw last year? When did you get so good looking - and those curly locks! You are going to wow the girls here - Oh yes! - and the bloom is still on you, and a beautiful blush to go with it." I didn't know what to say, and just stood there looking stupid until she threw an arm around my shoulder and marched me off to her car. The drive home in her BMW was exciting - she drove with authority and at high speed - but we talked only about family things, school, what I wanted to do for the summer. Her home was elegant, though of modest size, and she showed me around - my bedroom, the den with all the latest gadgets, and a pool table in the basement. I asked if we could play a game and she said, "Sure - how about eight-ball?" It was fun, even though she polished me off quickly. After we had a sandwich for lunch, she said that we needed to talk about how things would work out for "our new arrangement". I wasn't eager for this - it sounded pretty formal to me, not like home. And that is the way it turned out. It would be my responsibility to keep the house picked up and clean, to make her coffee for breakfast, to mow the grass and weed the garden, and to do the laundry. She asked if I had done these things at home, or with the grandparents, and I said, somewhat embarrassed, that I had not. "Things will be different here," she said in her business like way. "Okay," I said quietly. She frowned. "Terry, did your mother and father teach you to say 'yes ma'am' and 'no ma'am' to your elders?" I got the point and meekly replied, "No ma'am." "That's better," she said, "remember that." "Yes ma'am, I will." She proceeded to show me how to make her coffee, toast her muffin, how to set the table properly and have this done by seven o'clock so she could get to her office by eight. Then she showed me how to operate the washing machine and dryer, distinguishing the settings for my clothes and for hers, especially her lingerie that was to be washed separately. She noticed that I was blushing and asked if it bothered me to wash her bra and panties. "A little," I confessed. "Well," she gloated, "You'll get over that, won't you?" "Yes ma'am." "And do not use the dryer for those dainties: hang them up on the line, just like the ones already there. Here, let me show you how they are to be folded." She took down a pink panty and touched it to my cheek. "So soft, isn't it?" "Yes ma'am," I said blushing. She folded it carefully. "Now you do it, and be careful you don't make a run." I picked up a pair and folded them. "No, no, not like that, like this," and she demonstrated once more. "See if you can get it right this time," she scolded. I was flustered, partly by my ineptitude and her bossiness, but also by the handling of the silky, pretty panties. Trying again, unsuccessfully, she said in exasperation, "No, no!" and grabbed my hands, moving them through the proper sequence. Being controlled in this humiliating way in the manipulation of her panties aroused me sexually, and a small tent erected in my pants. She smiled at me, tousled my hair and cupped my cheeks in her hands. "Oh, you are so clumsy - but so beautiful," and kissed me on the lips. We continued the review of chores, and she sat me down on the sofa. Finally, she said, "I am concerned about your being alone here in the house while I am at work, especially this summer, and I want to hire a governess to supervise your activities; think of it as a private summer school. Does that sound all right to you?" "Aunt Beth, I think that I would be all right without a governess." "Well, I don't, so that's that." "Yes ma'am." "And, finally, most important, I expect you to obey my every wish and command. I cannot tolerate disobedience and willfulness; any infraction of this rule will be punished Do you understand?" She was looking right in my eyes, and I turned my head away. "Look at me when I speak to you," she yelled. "Yes ma'am." "Yes ma'am ? what?" she demanded. I felt overpowered and humiliated. I had no alternative. "Yes ma'am, I will obey you." "No," she insisted, "you will obey..." "I will obey your every wish and command." "Good girl!" she said gently, pulling me toward her bosom, and kissing me softly on the lips. At that point I was mesmerized: putty in her strong hands. I thought that it might be silly to contradict her about my sex but I was also scared and thrilled at the awakening of childhood fears and fantasies rich with exotic foreboding. My little pecker popped up. For the first time, it seemed, someone was in control of my life. Dad left my upbringing to my mom, and she let me do almost anything I wanted. In a way I had always wanted more guidance, and now I had it, whether I wanted it or not. *** At breakfast the next morning Beth said that she had some work to finish at the office, and would I be all right alone for a couple of hours. I said that I would be fine, would spend some time practicing my pool game if that was all right. "Help yourself Terry I'm sure you know how to be careful of the felt. It's easily torn, you know." I watched her scratch off in her sporty car, strolled around the yard, and then went to the basement with my laundry. After putting my stuff in, I noticed again the panties hanging on the line - the ones we didn't fold - and thought I could surprise her by folding these just the way she wanted. Folding and folding, my fingers delighting in feeling the satin panties, and, aroused, I couldn't resist trying them on. It was not the first time I had fallen prey to this desire. When I was seven years old, a girl in the neighborhood led me to a secluded garage, where we exchanged underwear until that time I had no clear idea of the female anatomy. My mom was quite modest - I do not recall ever seeing her naked, nor had it ever occurred to me that girls and boys wore different kinds of underwear. I swapped my BVD's for her pink cotton panties. I could tell that they were quite different - much cuter and softer than what I wore, with tiny elastics around the leg openings, and a tiny elastic around the waist, adorned with little bows at the hip. I asked my mom that night why boys and girls wore different kinds of underwear. She had no idea where this question was coming from, and answered it straightforwardly. "Girls are softer and sweeter than boys, so they wear softer and sweeter underwear." There seemed to be some reason for this, so I accepted it, but I wanted to know why boys and girls were different. "I think that they will tell you all about that in school - let's wait for that." "Okay. Mommy, but would you get me some girl's underwear? I like it so much better." "Well, I suppose I could Terry, but you might find it embarrassing - you know, when you have to undress for gym classes at school." "I don't think so Mommy, it will be all right." Of course, it wasn't. I was subjected to a lot of torment and bullying for being a "pantywaist, a sissy". So I went back to my BVD's, but continued to ponder those two great mysteries of my life, now joined by a third - why some of my playmates turned against me because I wanted to wear girl's panties. Over the years, my awareness of the differences - in anatomy and underwear - not only became more pronounced, but of greater and greater interest to me, and I began to wish that I had been a girl rather than a boy. It was more than an obsession with anatomy and underwear; in my eyes, the girls were gentler, sweeter, more open minded, did not fight, or push other kids around. My stomach was churning and my heart pounding as I dropped my trousers and jockeys, and slipped the delicacies up my hairless legs. I whimpered ecstatically at the smooth, slippery feeling. I thought that I would just wear them for a while, and went into the poolroom to practice. But every step I took, every bending at the waist, was a caress, and I began to think more of my sensual delight than practicing my shots. Bending over the table I lost my concentration in ecstasy, and the cue stick suddenly slipped in my hand, plunging into the felt cover. The tear was not big, but it was serious. I thought about trying to repair it with some glue, but couldn't find any. In despair, I began to cry and threw myself down on my bed. I must have fallen asleep right away, for the next thing I knew I heard a car zip into the driveway, and went downstairs to confess and apologize to Aunt Beth. In my anxiety, my story and apology began tumbling out chaotically before she could tell me to stop, calm down, and start over. I couldn't get the story out without sobbing, but when I had finished her face was grim. "I told you to be careful of the felt, Terry, didn't I?" "Yes ma'am. I'm sorry. I tried to repair it but couldn't find any glue." "Glue would only have made it worse, Terry. I am glad that you didn't do that, but I am very annoyed that you disobeyed me." "But Aunt Beth -" "Don't interrupt me; I told you to be careful of the felt - were you careful?" "It was an accident, I..." I began to sob. "Come here," she commanded. "You will be punished, now! Drop your pants and stretch over my knees." "Please Aunt Beth, Please Ma'am, don't spank me, I...I..." my mind was filled with fears, remembering now what I had forgotten, that I was wearing her panties. "Now!" she repeated, and I slowly dropped my pants and slid over her knees. When she saw the pink panties she gasped. "I did not know that you wore - wait! - are these my panties, Terry?" "Yes ma'am." I couldn't get out any more explanations, excuses. "I am sorry ma'am I won't do it again. Pease don't hurt me." "Hush." She put her free hand over my mouth. I was blubbering into it now. She traced her fingers briefly over my butt, sliding them gently up and down the crack between my cheeks, then slowly teased the panties down. She kept one hand over my mouth, and began to whack my bottom with the other, again and again. She was strong and hit hard. I was bawling, muffled, into her hand. When she finally stopped striking, she put her finger into my mouth, sliding it in and out. Some instinct deep within moved me to suck on it as she continued to smooth and caress my bottom. My little pecker got hard and I knew she could feel it pressing into her thighs. "How's my little girl?" My reply was instinctual: "I'm all right now, Mommy." "What else, Darling? Do you appreciate being punished for your naughtiness?" "Yes, thank you Mommy for punishing me. I know I deserved it." "Stand up, and pull up your panties." She stared at my crotch. "Your little weenie appreciates it too, doesn't she." "Yes Ma'am." "And she likes wearing Mommy's panties, doesn't she?" "Yes, ma'am." "Has she ever had an orgasm, sweetie?" "I don't think so, Mommy, but I have had wet dreams." "That's sweet, dear. I want you to tell me whenever you have one, but you must never, never, masturbate, understand?" "Yes Mommy." "Tell me, do you have panties of your own?" "No ma'am." "Well, I think that mommy's little girl needs some panties like Mommy's - soft and silky, pretty colors. We will have to go to the Mall, won't we?" "Yes ma'am." "I like it when you call me Mommy, dear, and I am going to call you Teresa. You'll like that won't you?" I was in a trance. "Yes Mommy." 2. We went to the Mall on Saturday; Mommy wanted me to wear a pair of her red panties, shorts, sneakers without socks and a dressy Tee, exposing my thin, girlish arms. She took me straight to the young misses department. She spoke of me as her niece, called me Teresa, and discussed openly with me and the sales girls the styles and sizes of panties, bras, blouses and shorts I would need. I was embarrassed and humiliated, and stood by meekly, blushing, eyes downcast. I knew that I could not challenge her, and not even sure that I wanted to. She picked everything out, of course, and I always consented. I wasn't sure where all this would lead, but I was completely under her control. The clerks never suspected anything, even when measuring me for panties and a training bra, but I was trapped in some embarrassing conversations about girl things - menstruation, what boys liked, my favorite pop stars - things like that. On the way home Mommy was talking about our purchases, and what school would be like, as though I really was a girl, how she and I would have to do some serious shopping for dresses and shoes. She could tell that I was nervous. "What's on your mind precious," she asked. "Mommy," I began, lips quivering, "you make it sound like I am a girl." "Well, Teresa, I thought that's what you wanted to be - I wouldn't have bought all those panties and bras for someone who didn't want to be a girl." "But Mommy," I began, I really am a boy..." I didn't get to finish my sentence; she slammed on the brakes and headed back for the Mall. "Teresa, we discussed every item and you approved of each one. If you don't want those things we'll go right back and you can return them." "No Mommy, no, please don't make me do that. I'll do what you think is best, I love my bras and panties, Mommy, I do want to be your sweet, obedient girl, but things are moving so fast that I can't keep up. Let's go home, Mommy, I am sorry that I got confused." I curled up in the front seat and wept quietly all the way home. Why didn't I resist the buying spree in the store? Why had I approved of everything Mommy suggested? She hadn't forced anything on me, but she had already made me submissive to her will, and deep down, I wanted that. It made me feel more secure, and strangely aroused, We brought all our packages in the house and Mommy told me to take a Nair bath and then model my new clothes for her. I had very little body hair as it was, and the Nair removed all the rest. My skin felt so smooth, and the panties slid up my legs as though they were greased. I loved the soft and slippery feeling, and the snug elastic at the waist and the leg openings, made me conscious of the fabric at every moment. I couldn't handle the bra, so I went downstairs to get Mommy to help, wearing only my pink panties. When Mommy saw me she flipped out: a neighbor was sitting in the living room with her. "Teresa," she exclaimed, "go right back up stairs and get dressed - can't you see we have company?" Shaking with fear, I ran upstairs, left the bra on my bed, put on the T-shirt and sneakers - and hastened back to make my apologies. Mommy and her guest sat there chatting. "Teresa, this is Mrs. Thompson, a neighbor." "How do you do, Mrs. Thompson, please forgive me for being so rude." "Quite all right, Dear," she said stiffly, then, more lightly, "I do admire you taste in lingerie." She and Mommy chuckled. "I came by to tell you and Beth how glad we are to have you in the neighborhood, even though we understand that the circumstances are not happy ones." She had already learned from Mommy that I would be going to the high school in the fall, that I would be in the care of a governess for the rest of the summer - a fine young woman, she said. Mommy offered her tea or coffee, but she had another engagement, and had to go. As she left, she placed her hand on my arm, patted it, and said it was nice to have such a pretty girl for a neighbor. I blushed. "Thank you ma'am." After she had gone, Mommy scowled, "All right, young lady, up stairs! You have another lesson to learn." "No Mommy," I howled, "Please don't spank me. I didn't know Mrs. Thompson was here, nobody told me." "That doesn't matter. Teresa. You should know better than to come downstairs - into the living room - wearing only panties. That was just awful. What will she think of us, anyway?" She gave me a hard slap on the bottom, shoving me ahead of her, into her bedroom. I was sniveling. "Take off your shirt, shorts and shoes." She went to her closet, emerged with a paddle, and sat down. "Across my lap," she commanded. "Please don't Mommy, don't beat me with that paddle." I was sobbing as I stretched myself across her lap as before, she stroked my bottom with her fingers, and then cut short my crying by cupping my mouth in her hand. It was so sensual, it was like being forced to kiss her hand, and made me feel so helpless. She slowly teased the panties down, and then began to spank my butt with the paddle. I screamed, but no sound could penetrate her hand gag. My bottom was on fire when she stopped, and I continued to bawl until she slipped her finger into my mouth. As I began the ritualistic sucking, she teased up the panties, and caressed my sore bottom. "How's my little girl," she cooed. "I am all right now Mommy, thank you and thank you for punishing me for being so thoughtless and rude." I was not faking it; I wanted Mommy to know that I really needed the punishment, and the sway she held over me. "That is very sweet of you Teresa, and I hope that you have learned a very important lesson." "I have, Mommy, I promise. I will not be so thoughtless and rude again." She smiled. "I'm sure you won't dear. Now get dressed in your new things." I laughed: "Oh, that is why I came downstairs half - dressed, Mommy - I couldn't handle the bra strap." I skipped into my bedroom and came back with the bra, and in no time she had it adjusted to my skinny frame. "Oh, Teresa," she said, "the bra and panties are just darling on you. Doesn't that silky cup feel good?" She rubbed my nipples through the fabric. It did feel good. "Finish getting dressed, Teresa - I think that your new the pink shorts and white blouse would make a nice combination, and after you get dressed, Sweetie, please fix us sandwiches for lunch. You had better make some iced tea while you're at it. And call me when it's ready." "All right, Mommy." I enjoyed making the sandwiches and setting the table in a way that I had learned from my real mom, thinking it would please Mommy. No such luck. She was critical of everything: the way the sandwiches were made, the way the table was set, the iced tea. I teared up and could feel my lips quivering. "Now Teresa, you must try not to be upset at my suggestions. Everybody has to learn things at some time." I wiped away my tears and stifled the lump in my throat; I was determined to do whatever Mommy wanted, and to do it perfectly. "Thank you Mommy - I will do better next time." I finished this off with as bright a smile as I could muster. "That is just the response I was hoping for Teresa - such a sweet girl. Now, Dear, we need to talk about your governess. She will be here tomorrow morning before I leave for work, and we want to be prepared for her. Her name is Kim; she is a junior at the college, majoring in phys-ed. She is also a math whiz, and can help you in that department as well. I think that you will like her very much." "I am sure that I will, Mommy. Thank you for making that arrangement." My earlier resistance was a thing of the past. 3. The doorbell rang at 7.25 the next morning. I was in the kitchen putting away the breakfast dishes, and Mommy was getting ready to leave for work. I want to the door and there was Kim - tall, shiny faced, smiling. "Hi, I'm Kim - you're Terry." "Teresa," I corrected. We shook hands. "Oops. I was expecting a boy. But this is even better." "Mommy should be down in a minute, I said, she wants to see you before she goes to work." "Okay," she laughed. "How's it going?" "Cool," I said. "You're at the university?" "Not this summer, but yes. This is my only job so far - the market is tight." "What are we going to do?" "I was going to ask you that," she laughed. "Your aunt suggested sports, and work on mathematics. You have any preferences? You like to play tennis, badminton, basketball? Or would you like to work out in the gym?" "I've never worked out in a gym," I admitted, "I'm not even sure I know what you do there." Mommy dashed in at that moment on her way out the door told us to decide what we wanted to do and we would discuss it later. "Two or three hours, Kim - all right? And you can have lunch here, if you like. See you darling," she said, giving me a quick kiss good-bye. "Busy woman," Kim observed. Since I had never been in a gym she thought that might be a good place to begin. "Do I need gym shoes, clothes?" "Nah, what you have on is fine." I was wearing shorts and a Tee. We drove to the university gym in her car - not many people around at this time - and Kim knew the way in. I was her visitor. She thought it might be a good idea if she showed me the various exercises she does, and let me try them out. I knew this would be embarrassing, but was resolved to give it a try. It didn't take me long to see that Kim really knew her stuff - the proper form for the various exercises, the muscular and aerobic effect of each - and she was beautifully conditioned - good muscle tone, but not too much, a very pretty girl. She let me try each of her exercises, using very lightweights and setting resistance levels very low. The discrepancy between what she could do and what she set up for me was embarrassing. She kept telling me that it didn't matter, that everyone starts at the bottom, and works up to the level that is appropriate for her. She was a good teacher - very much hands on, literally. She squeezed, twisted, moved my arms, legs and torso into the correct positions, and once sat behind me on the bench, holding my back up to her chest to make sure I was sitting up straight. The experience was very sensual, and Kim was so good at it and so lighthearted that I already adored her. "How did you like it?" she asked as we left the gym. "I liked it a lot. Can we come back?" "Sure can. It's free to me and my guests." "How long did it take you to get in such good shape," I asked. "I could ask you the same thing," she said. "You are beautiful." "But I'm a 98 pound weakling." "You can change that," she said earnestly, "but only God could make you so beautiful." I blushed, partly for shame. What would she say if she knew - don't think about it. "I would trade with you any day." I threw an arm over her shoulder and we walked like that to her car. "Do you play tennis?" I blushed. "I'm not any good at it." "You're not any good at working out in the gym either, but you have begun." We decided to work on mathematics for a while, then have lunch. Very different from exercising in the gym, but a pure delight with Kim - she was so quick, so clear so patient, and so much fun to work with. While preparing lunch, we began discussing things in a more personal way, and continued as we ate. Kim had lived here all her life, came from a large family, and wanted to be an athletic director when she left the University. It made me sad to think about her clear - cut, wholesome, life in comparison with mine. We talked about her family - they seemed so cool - and then she began to inquire into mine. She knew about my parents, and my year's stay with my grandparents, and in her own open way asked me how I liked living with Miss Beth. I told her that we were hitting it off all right. She may have detected something in my tone of voice that lacked conviction. "Is she demanding?" Kim asked, with a sad smile. I didn't know what she was thinking of, but the question and the way she asked it touched a nerve. I began to tear up and quickly looked away. She reached out and touched my arm. "I'm sorry, Teresa, I shouldn't have intruded." Her genuine feeling and concern reached even deeper, and I began to weep. She rose from her seat and knelt by my side. "I'm so sorry, Teresa, so sorry." She grasped my shoulders in her hands and I let myself down beside her. Our heads touched, and she wept with me, and then we were kissing, sweetly, gently, and then passionately. At length we drew apart. "You are some teacher, Kim." I grinned. She replied, "And you are some student," adding, "I think that my time is up - see you tomorrow." I had a hard time sleeping that night. I kept seeing and hearing Kim, her pretty face, her bright and cheerful manner. I tried to reconstruct images of our kissing - I had never kissed a girl before - but whenever I did it faded in the light of who and what I really was. What would Kim think if she discovered I was phony? She must have thought it was a "girl" thing - or did she know that I was a boy? Shouldn't I come clean with her? And what would Mommy think if I did? She and I had not really talked about the morning session with Kim. We did at breakfast the next morning, and she seemed to approve of our workout at the gym, but added that her membership in the country club would permit me and a guest to use the tennis courts if we liked - and, by the way, she had bought a tennis outfit for me. It was two piece - a halter-top and a pleated skirt that seemed awfully short. "Try it on now, darling, so I can see how it looks on you." I did, reluctantly, and of course she thought it was lovely - and sexy. "Mommy," I whined, "I don't want to look sexy." "Of course you do, dear. Every girl needs to look sexy whether she has sexual interests or not. Now you try that out when you and Kim play this morning." "All right, Mommy. Thanks so much for getting it for me." I gave her a kiss to show my appreciation. She ran her hand underneath my skirt, petting my pantied bottom. Just then the doorbell rang and Mommy told me to let Kim in. "Wow," she exclaimed, "that will rouse them at the gym." "Mommy got it so I would have something to play tennis in - this morning, if tennis is okay with you. She said that we could use the courts at the club." "Hey Miss Beth, that's so nice of you, but the university courts are available and right next to the gym. We can play tennis and then work out for a while." "Whatever you girls decide. Have fun. I'll be home around six, Teresa. Whatever you decide on for dinner is all right with me." With that she was gone. "She sure makes that little roadster scoot, doesn't she? She ever let you drive it Teresa?" "I'm not old enough; I don't even know how to drive." "Well, we can begin to correct that," Kim smiled. "Let's hit the courts." "I'll look around for a racquet, Kim, if you'll clear the table." "Heck, let's pick up two racquets at my house after we clear the dishes." Her house was not far away, a modest but lovely house and yard, and Kim took me in to meet her parents and siblings. A son about my age, Chris, and two cute little girls, Alice and Penelope. Mr. and Mrs. Trekker were warm and friendly - what else? - and Kim and I were off to the courts. She had several cans of tennis balls, and we just started right in rallying back and forth. As I could have predicted, Kim had excellent form - she played like a boy, fluid motion, quick and strong. I, on the other hand, played like a girl, stiff and jerky. She liked to teach, anyway, and eased up so we could keep the rally going. We were just getting ready to play a game, when two guys came up and asked if we would like to play doubles. On of them, Tom, was a friend of Kim's. "Mixed doubles," Kim said, and she paired up with the weakest player, leaving me with Tom. I apologized in advance for my ineptitude, but he smiled, pulled me toward him and pretended to whisper, "Not to worry, we'll take 'em." The match was not bad; I could at least get my serve in the court, and actually made a good return or two. When I did, Tom would, like a good jock, pat me firmly but gently on my bottom, and call out, "Way to go, T'esa." My name was getting shorter and shorter, like my skirts. I was very conscious of the fact that every time I made an unusual or fast move, my shiny white panties flashed, but I was too caught up in the game to think much about it, until, in the second set, one of Tom's pats found its way beneath my skirt, briefly stealing a feel of my pantied bottom. I quickly pushed his hand away, but said nothing. When we had finished, Tom apologized for his accident, but I was too pleased about the game and the fun we had to say anything more than, "That's okay." and smile sweetly. On the way to the gym I told Kim how much I enjoyed that, and asked her if we could play some more. I would also like to have her give me lessons. "Sure," she agreed, adding that my game was much better than I had led her to believe. As we left the courts Kim realized that the clothes I had on were not quite right for the gym. We could just stop by her house and pick up some shorts she suggested, and so we did. "You can change here or at the gym - here is easier. I'll show you my room." I was uneasy about undressing in front of her, but didn't want to make an issue of it. She handed me a pair of gym shorts - very brief and, seeing me hesitate, said, "You can change right here T'resa." My hands began to shake, my heart began to pound; I couldn't undo the clasp in the back of my tennis skirt. I turned beet red. Kim, watching me intently, offered to help, and stepped behind me. We were both facing a full - length mirror, and as she began to unbutton my skirt her head moved close to mine. As my skirt fell to the floor, she put her arms around me, pinning my resistless arms to my sides. She whispered in my ear, "T'resa, you are so beautiful." She kissed my cheek. "I was on fire with jealousy when Tom was feeling you up. That's what I want to do." I was so enthralled that I did not think of repercussions. I whimpered, "Please, Kim: I think I should get dressed." But her hands were already caressing my tummy, sliding down to my panties, and I was immobile until her fingers reached my groin. They froze in the same moment that my heart did. "T'resa - you're not a girl!" She dropped to her knees and pulled my panties down, revealing a small male member, now quite erect. "What's going on?" I wanted to explain, but could not speak at all, weeping and sobbing. Kim thoughtfully pulled my panties up... and in an effort to quell my convulsions, held me tight. "It's all right, T'resa. It's all right. You can tell me all about it when you are ready." She sat down and drew me on to her lap, hugging, kissing, soothing, "her sweet little girl" until the convulsions stopped. "Let's talk after we hit the gym, okay T'resa? Let's work off some of the emotion with exercise." So we did, and by the time we were finished with our routine, we were both ready to talk. We went to my house for lunch, and I unfolded to Kim the whole story - life with my parents before the plane crash, life with my grandparents, and now, for the past several weeks, with Mommy, and, above all, her leading me in the direction of a gender change. I concluded by admitting that I had misgivings about such a drastic step, but had decided that I would do whatever Mommy thought best, and then asked Kim for her opinion. Kim was, as I expected, open minded and frank. "Well," she began, "you make a great girl. I have never known one prettier or sweeter, and under other circumstances, she kidded, I would marry you in a minute. You also have a lot of courage, a lot of common sense, and you're a lot smarter than you think. The downside, as far as I can tell, is that crossing over would probably mean no children of your own, and would certainly limit the choices you might have in finding a mate. On the other side - and I am assuming from what little I know that you are really pretty comfortable in a feminine role, you enjoy wearing women's clothes and doing femmy things, and your manner is very feminine - soft, gentle, loving. You could combine this with preserving your male identity, though you would probably be thought of as a sissy. I guess it's clear that I would go for that option - in fact, that is what I am doing, but it is easier for a woman to function in a masculine role than for a man to be effeminate." I was in tears by this point, grateful for her honesty and insight, saddened by the dilemma's we faced. I circled the table and took her hands, pulling her up and embracing her hugging and kissing her, until she said, "I had better go." 4. I prepared supper for Mommy and myself, trying to be a good girl and have everything done just right, but knowing that it would not be. Mommy wanted to have a drink before dinner, and asked me to fix it for her. "But before you do dear, go try on the cute little maid's outfit that I bought for you today and then serve me my drink." I smiled prettily and ran upstairs to change. I couldn't guess what Mommy was thinking of, but I knew how to respond to her order. It was a traditional French maid's outfit and only the stockings took much time. I put on the cute little cap and walked proudly into the living room with Mommy's drink. "Oh, Teresa, you make such a pretty little maid. Isn't that the cutest outfit." "I just love it, Mommy," I said, and gave what I thought was a proper curtsey, holding out the hem on both sides. "Thank you so much." "We'll have to work on that curtsey, darling, but just the right idea." Mommy didn't suggest that I sit down, and I assumed that my role as Maid would not permit it. She sipped her drink. "Fold your hands in front of you, Dear, just below your waist. That's right. And put your feet close together. Yes. Oh, Dear, you are coming along so nicely. I am proud of you." "Thank you, ma'am," I said thinking that a more appropriate form of address than "mommy". "I know what you are thinking, dear, and the formal address would be appropriate in other circumstances - when we have guests for dinner, for example, but when it is just you and I, "Mommy" is fine." "Thank you, Mommy. I appreciate the correction. May I bring up another matter?" "Of course, dear. What is it?" I told her about our tennis game at the university courts with a couple of guys who wanted to play doubles, how much fun it was, and then told her of Tom's feeling my bottom, and also of his apology afterward. "Mommy, do you think that my sexy little outfit encourages that sort of thing." "Of course it does dear - that's the point of wearing sexy outfits - but you should have scolded him right away, all in good fun, of course. You don't want to discourage familiarities like that, you just want to control them: push his hand away with a giggle, and 'Oh, Tom, stop that'. So he knows better than to try it again, - at least, not right away - but he also knows that you are not really angry. "While we are on the subject, there are related matters which should be dealt with in advance. What do you do when Tom, or anyone else, wants to kiss and pet in a more serious manner? It is tried and true advice to discourage the first attempt at this: you don't want to be an easy mark. On the other hand you should not avoid romancing that is good clean fun. There is always the danger that "necking" will lead to the next step - sexual intercourse - and that you must avoid at all costs. On the other hand you don't want to provoke some boy to overcome your resistance forcibly. The best way to avoid this is to masturbate him, or, more likely, to engage in fellatio." Mommy could see that I did not understand what she was saying, and added, "What is commonly called a blowjob. You're familiar with the term, Teresa?" "I think so, Mommy. It's taking a boy's penis in your mouth and sucking it." "Yes, it is not to be lightly indulged, Teresa, but it is a very effective way to control boys. You can have your virginity and eat it too." she joked, smiling with pleasure at her own pun. "Now, Dear, won't you serve dinner?" I curtseyed. "Yes, mommy." I knew that she wanted me to stay in the maid's role, so I served her plate first and waited for her to invite me to join her. But she never did. I remained standing off to one side, feet close together, hands folded just below my waist. She made pleasant comments about the dinner, asked for another helping of this or that, a drink of water, each time addressing me as "Sissy." I guessed that this was to be my maid's name, and in this setting referred to her as Madam, or ma'am. It was a bit puzzling, but I knew that it was a test, and was determined to meet it. I felt that I had when she thanked me for the dinner, and informed me that she would take her coffee in the living room. "Yes Ma'am. I'm glad you enjoyed your meal." She rose without a reply, and walked away. Then I began to wonder if I had failed. I found out when I served her coffee that such was not the case. "When you serve something like coffee or drinks, dear, you want to be sure that you lean down for the comfort of your seated guest, but without bending your knees. It makes a much prettier pose, and draws attention to the slight exposure of your cute bottom, a fleeting view of your lingerie. Of course, you want to wear your best for such occasions, the first of which will fall on Saturday night. I'm having some of my colleagues and old friends for dinner - a party of ten altogether - and will have to press you into service, helping prepare the meal and serving it as well. Do you think you can handle that?" "Yes ma'am." "Do you suppose that Kim would be interested in helping out, dear? Taking care of so many alone would be a burden. I shall have the meal catered, of course, but for everything else - " "Sure, Mommy. I'll ask her tomorrow." "That will be fine, dear. Sit down here, on the floor. " She pointed to her feet. "Yes, that's where I like to have my little girl. Cozy, Teresa?" She ran her fingers gently though my hair. "Yes, Mommy. It feels so good." My back was leaning against her knees. I turned half - way around, and she cupped my face in her hands, caressing my cheeks then my lips with her fingers. "My little girl has come along so nicely," she whispered. "I think that we are ready for the next step." "What's that, Mommy," I dreamily replied. I was so content with my life just then, playing Mommy's little sissy maid, or tennis tart, secure in my submission to her will, that "next step" was a thought that had never crossed my mind. "Well, dear, we have to think about enrolling you in the high school, and whether that will be as a boy or a girl. It cannot be as informal as it is now, you know." We each waited for the other to speak. Mommy closed the gap. "Everybody here thinks that you are a girl - no one has suggested otherwise, Shall it be as a girl, then?" "Mommy, I love being a girl here - wearing pretty girl things, learning from you how to behave like a young lady, wearing sexy skirts, uniforms like this one, but..." "That settles it then," she cut me off, "we'll talk to my gynecologist to morrow and make it definite." I felt the push, and had to summon all my strength to ask a question, "Make what definite, Mommy?" "Why, what you just said - letting you be what you want to be, a pretty, sweet and obedient girl. Isn't that what you just said?" I knew that I could not escape her will, that I had become, in a short space of time, what she wanted me to be, and as such, less and less able to resist. I was indeed the sweet obedient girl she wanted me to be. My eyes closed, my head slightly drooped. I said softly, "Yes, Mommy. That's what I want." "Good girl," she said. "I know you've made the right choice. We'll speak to Lawrence tomorrow." Dr. Lawrence examined me, assured me that the operation would be safe and successful, and gave me an appointment two weeks off. As we drove home Mommy talked about my decision to be turned into a girl, and all the preparation, which that required. "You already have rather feminine manners, and you appearance is just perfect, but there are a host of things we will have to absorb before school begins," and she began to wonder about some special training in speech, posture, bathroom etiquette, and other details. I began to worry and sank into sadness. Mommy noticed this and asked me sharply what the matter was. "I don't know, Mommy. It's such a big step." Her voice became shrill. "You mean that you are having second thoughts about transgendering, right after we spent the morning with Doctor Lawrence, and you told him that you wanted to become a girl?" Her voice was raised, and irritated. I was frightened. It was like the Mall experience, which I had tried to put behind me. But I knew that she was right. "Mommy," I confessed," I am being a bad girl; I need to be punished." We pulled into the drive. Mommy got out and slammed her door. "Very well, Teresa get up to your room right now." I stumbled into the house and up stairs and took off my clothes and retrieved the paddle from Mommy's room. When I heard her coming up the steps I stood up wearing only bra and panties, and holding out the paddle. "Well," she mused, you're all ready I love seeing you in that submissive pose, a weak little girl in her pretty panties and bra, just waiting to be spanked." I couldn't speak, could not look her in the eye. My head drooped. "You like my putting you in panties, and being my little sissy maid, don't you?" I was silent, my eyes downcast. I knew that she was right, and felt so ashamed. "Answer me, Teresa." My voice cracked, "Yes Mommy." "Yes - what, Teresa?" "Yes, Mommy. I like all those things." "Then you will agree that the transgender operation is the best course for you to follow? Your testicles will be removed and you will be placed on Hormone therapy. Other procedures may follow later on, but this simple operation will make you officially a girl. This has seemed to me the best thing for you, and I take it that you now agree. Am I right?" "Yes Mommy." My eyes filled with tears. I knew that I could not resist the change any longer, that I must repress any feelings of that sort in the future - that, or give up the security that Mommy provided. "Wonderful dear. We shall both be happy. I am going to notify your grandparents of this decision, and believe that they will accept it. As I said earlier, we have lots of shopping to do and all sort of arrangements to make at school, in the neighborhood, at my office - and so on. Now come give mommy a kiss." 5. I asked Kim the following day if she would like to help me serve at Mommy's party on Saturday night, but she had other plans. I was very disappointed. I did not know anyone else to ask, and without thinking suggested to Mommy that I might ask Tom. "What a good idea, Teresa! Is he cute?" "He's very good looking, Mommy, but I don't know whether he would like doing the work." "Well, he could surely help with the heavy lifting. I think it might be fun for you; why don't you call him up?" I had to cancel my tennis date with Kim for the day of the party, and asked her if she knew Tom's phone number. She didn't, but she gave me his parent's name and address. "You'll be able to find it. I'm sorry that I can't help you at the party, T'resa, but Tom will be a big help, I know..." Tom was enthusiastic, even elated, that I had asked him to help out, and said he would come over the morning before the party. He showed up early Saturday morning. We cleaned the house, and mowed the grass. Well, Tom mowed the grass: he thought I was too slow. "You had better keep working out in the gym," he teased. It would take you all day to mow this lawn alone. Just look at this beautiful little muscle." he snorted, circling my upper arm with his thumb and forefinger, "Compare it with this," he boasted, flexing his biceps. I tried - and failed - to enclose his arm in the same way. "Okay, Tom, so you've got nice biceps, but Kim says I can catch up." "You'll never be able to do this," he said, grabbing me around the waist and lifting me off the ground as though I were weightless - and slinging me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He held me there, his free hand pressing my rump. I was almost giddy, laughing and beating his back. "Put me down, Tom," I, shouted, and he did, but pulling my shorts down in the process, leaving me awkwardly exposed. I quickly pulled my shorts up, and aimed a blow at his chest screeching playfully at the same moment; Tom caught my mock blow in one hand and pulled me to his body. Before I knew it, he was kissing me. I was responsive, and dangerously aroused in his grasp, and wrenched myself free. "Tom," I growled - but the frown on my face turned into a smile. "Tom, we've got work to do." "Okay, T'esa," he grinned. "Let's go see what Mommy wants us to do." I was having trouble thinking clearly. Mommy asked Tom if he had any experience as a bartender. "I've done some of that for my parents," he confessed. "Good, you're hired," she said, and while he set up his bar, I helped Mommy arrange flowers, and set the table. "Most people will be drinking wine, Tom; there are some who will prefer hard liquor." Tom assured her that he knew how to mix drinks, how to use a corkscrew, and how to serve wine. "Good," she said. "Now you better go home and get dressed." Mommy asked him to wear black trousers, shoes, and bow tie with a white shirt. As he left, she called out "Back at 6:30, Tom!" Mommy also wanted to make her instructions to me clear, though I knew them quite well by this time - how to stand, how to bend over; she also bought some lingerie for me to wear on this occasion - white satin panties with lacy leg elastics and waistband, and a garter belt to hold up my silk stockings. She also told me that she would introduce me as Sissy - which I had assumed - but that she would avoid speaking of me as he niece, or her nephew. "But what will I say, Mommy, if anyone asks me about our relationship?" "Why that I am your aunt, and that you call me "mommy" because that is the way you feel about me, though I am not your biological mother. Doesn't that seem right to you?" "Yes, Mommy, but dressed as a maid?" "No one will ask you about that, Teresa, but if they do, just say that I thought it would be cute to have you dressed up as a little maid." I was nervous about the arrangement, but thought I could carry it off. "Yes dear. I am confident that you can handle it. By the way, Teresa, I talked with your grandparents about the sex - change, and they were quite opposed. I am not sure that they really understood your situation - that you really are a girl with a boy's genitals. I do not want to fight my parents or your other grandmother about this, and I am sure that neither do you. It could become a legal battle - perhaps even publicized - and no one wants that. So we will have to rethink our plans." She left me to my own thoughts, and turned to her preparation for the party. It began slowly, but soon cranked up as more guests arrived, and I was busy serving canapes and steering people to the bar. Tom was dressed as instructed, and seemed to be having fun with the men crowded around his table. Mommy had introduced me to the early arrivals simply as Sissy, but things got so busy that some of the guests had to introduce themselves to me as I passed the hors d'oeuvres. I introduced myself as Teresa. I could tell that the group as a whole and the men in particular spent a little more time with me than was necessary, and one or two actually asked direct questions about me. One said, "Beth calls you Sissy, but you say Teresa - which is it?" "My name is Teresa, but Aunt Beth sometimes calls me Sissy." One wanted to know where I lived. "I live here with Aunt Beth," I replied, providing no clues for further questions. And I kept busy. One middle-aged man slipped his hand underneath my dress and gave my rump a tender pinch, but I ignored him and moved to another group. Dinner was busier still, but I only had to do what the catering crew told me. It was after - dinner coffee that proved my downfall. I was serving it just as Mommy had prescribed, and very quickly perceived that most eyes were on me as I moved from one person to another, bending from the waist, and repeatedly exposing my garters and a glimpse of my panty covered bottom. I tried to ignore it, but it unnerved me that so much attention was focused on me. Mommy noticed this and came to stand beside as I served the last coffee to a man with whom I had spoken earlier. He said to me, in a normal tone of voice, "You told me that Beth called you Sissy and that your real name is Teresa. But Beth tells me that your real name is Terry." He smiled. "Which is it?" I was speechless, but Mommy filled the breach. "Terry is really a boy, but he likes to dress up like a French Maid on occasions like this. I just couldn't deny him." The man asked, quietly, "Is that why you call him Sissy?" She walked off, leaving me to fend for myself. The blood rushed to my face, my lips quivered, my eyes filed with tears. I could only see Mommy's betrayal of me as protecting herself first, but even more as a deliberate public humiliation. I knew, nevertheless, that I could not let myself go, could not run and hide - the thing I desired to do most. I had to face the music even though it was unfair. In my confusion I did not at first notice Tom standing nearby. No longer laughing and joking with the men, he was clearly disturbed, and sad. He stepped up to me and quietly asked, "Is it true, T'esa?" "Yes and No, Tom. Can we talk about it later?" "Sure, later." At least the men were no longer in a position to pinch my bottom. The women were sympathetic - at least seemed so - and one of them, a college friend of Beth's, talked with me at some length. She wanted to understand my desire to dress up, for she had a son, slightly younger then I, who seemed to have similar interests. "Of course," she said, "this is not the occasion for such a discussion, but perhaps we can get together some other time." I nodded, though I doubted that we would. After the guests had departed, and the caterers as well, Mommy paid Tom, told him that he was off duty, and invited him to stay for dessert and a drink. "No thanks, Miss Beth. You ladies have exhausted me, and I am headed for the bed. I enjoyed it, though. Call me anytime for yard work and bar tending." The words were proper, but flat. He was still upset. Mommy and I slumped on the sofa, congratulating ourselves on having produced a good party. Mommy thanked me for my efforts, thought that I looked darling in the maid's outfit, but disappointed that I had not handled well the awkward question about my gender - girl or sissy? I was on the verge of saying that it was her fault for saying that I was a boy, a sissy in fact, and that dressing up was my own idea. But I knew that she would not tolerate this contradiction. She expected me to accept the humiliation and the blame for it. Tears came to my eyes, and I took the medicine. "I am so sorry, Mommy. I hope I did not embarrass you. I should have taken your cue and admitted my desire to dress up. Please forgive me. It was a foolish mistake." She restrained a smile. "Well, I will forgive you, but you must accept your punishment as well, dear." "Yes, Mommy. I know I ought to be punished. Shell I get the paddle? "That won't be necessary, Teresa, just join me in my bed room." She took me by the hand as I entered her bedroom. "I do love this outfit on you, Sissy. I will purchase a few more so that you can wear it often." She lifted my skirt and ran her fingers over the lacy satin panties. "These are exquisite panties, Sissy, they complement the maid's outfit well, do they not." "Yes, Mommy, I love these panties and the matching bra." She seemed to be pleased with that remark, but did not let herself be diverted. "Take off the uniform, Sissy, but leave your underthings on. I slipped off the tight little black skirt and bodice and stood erect, folding my hands submissively, eyes down cast." She sat. "Over my knees, Sissy." "Yes Mommy." I assumed the position and after the initial caressing of my pantied bottom, she began to spank me with her hand. It did not hurt as the paddle would, but there was something about it even more sensual, more arousing, more humiliating. It made me feel more like a child, enhancing my feeling of helplessness. After we completed the ritual, Mommy had me sit down again. I thanked her for punishing me, but she hardly let me finish before she added, "There is something else, Sissy. I believe that you have made remarkable progress under my tutelage, but your failure to understand what the situation called for this evening reveals a definite gap in your feminization. You admitted this - admirably, I think - but we must get to the root of the failure. I have often recalled for you your promise to obey my commands and my wishes, and you are clearly striving to submit entirely to my will, but at every step you fall short - not by much, but just enough to be of concern to me. I have given this much thought, and have reached the conclusion that the difficulty is rooted in the guidance you receive from Kim. Accordingly, I have decided to let her go." In shock, I began to tremble, and lips quivering, eyes tearing up I began to protest, but checked that impulse, and let myself collapse on the floor at her knees sobbing. "Why, whatever is the matter, Teresa? Kim is an adult, and she will understand my point of view." Ignoring my grief, she continued. "I think that working on your math and athletics, working out in the gym, of all things, is, deep down, reinforcing your masculine characteristics, and getting in the way of your feminization and of your complete submission to my will. I will inform Kim of my decision tomorrow, and have already made arrangements with a highly recommended woman to take her place. She is a dance instructor - ballet - and has trained a number of young boys as well as girls. I think that she will be an excellent tutor for you. Don't you agree?" I had managed by this time to stop crying and get a hold on myself and replied to Mommy with only the slightest crack in my voice. "Yes Mommy, but would it be all right with you if I talked to Kim first?" "No, it would not, Teresa, but you may speak with her after I have dismissed her." "Oh, thank you, Mommy. I do want to thank her for all she has done for me, and tell her how much I will miss her." "I think that would not be a good idea, Teresa. You may thank her for her instruction and kindness, but do not tell her that you will miss her - that will give her the wrong impression - that perhaps she should not be dismissed. You understand?" "Yes, Mommy, I understand, and I will thank her for her instruction and kindness, and say nothing else. But will it be all right for me to see her again - to play tennis, or have lunch together?" "Surely that will be all right, Teresa, but your free time will be limited. I shall need you to take on a heavier workload here - shopping for groceries, preparing meals, keeping the house and yard clean. You will be a busy little maid, leaving very little room for anything on top of your dance lessons with Madame Carrou. Which reminds me that you and I will need to make another trip to the Mall: Madame Carrou has told me where to find a dancing outfit, and we need to pay more attention to other clothing needs, especially for school." "But Mommy, I do not know whether I will go as a girl or a boy." "As a girl, of course, Teresa. I have an appointment with school officials next week and we will get all that straightened out. We shall go to the Mall tomorrow afternoon." I knew better than to contest this or even comment on it, but memory of our previous shopping expedition made me apprehensive. 6. Mommy called Kim after breakfast - in my presence. She was very crisp, business like, and, to my relief, emphasized her feeling that the dancing lessons would be more suitable for me than tennis and the like, and, to my surprise, said to Kim that I wanted to speak to her, and handed me the phone. I was flustered, preferring to speak privately to Kim, but managed somehow to express my thanks and my desire to see her soon. Kim was clearly upset by the dismissal, and suggested right away that we meet for Tennis the next morning. "That would be great, Kim, can you pick me up?" "Sure," she said. "I'll see you at 9 o'clock." Great sense of timing, I thought. "Okay, see you then." Kim arrived at the door at nine o'clock. Mommy had already left for work I was already dressed in my tennis outfit, and embraced Kim, determined to hold back the tears. I was getting better at this, and tears welled my eyes, but nothing else happened. "So good to see you, Kim - it seems like ages." I paused. Kim could not speak, but nodded. "I am going to miss our daily meetings, Kim. So much." "Me, too, T'resa. It was a lot of fun, and you were just getting into the workouts. I hope that you keep it up on your own." "Mommy says that I will not have time for that - too much housework, grocery shopping, cooking, and now ballet lessons..." "Oh. I did not know that the dancing lessons would be ballet - Ballerina?" I hadn't thought about it. "I guess so; it was Mommy's idea." "Well, that should complete your feminization, T'resa. You will make a lovely ballerina. Are you going to have the operation?" "No. My grandparents vetoed the idea, and Mommy decided not to press it. She wants me to go to school as a girl, and tells me that she will arrange it with the authorities." "But, T'resa, you will still be vulnerable to discovery - remember?" "I know, but Mommy doesn't worry about that." I proceeded to tell her about the party and my humiliating exposure before her guests - and Tom. Kim's face got red and her blue eyes flashed. "T'resa, you shouldn't put up with that, it's not fair. If she wants you to be a sissy, then she ought to take responsibility for the consequences. What would your grandparents think of this? What did Tom say?" "Tom was sad. I think he likes me, and I like him. We couldn't talk about it that night, but soon will. My grandparents are too old to fuss about that. I am surprised that they stopped her from castrating me. See, Kim, I have no choice; Mommy is my legal guardian, and if she rejects that responsibility, I will end up in a foster home somewhere, and I don't want that. Besides, what I am right now is her creation, and I am comfortable with that. I like being a girl, wearing sexy outfits, being severely disciplined, and being required to be a sweet and submissive servant for Mommy. In fact, strange as it may seems, Kim, I love her, even though, and sometimes because, she humiliates me and punishes me unfairly." Kim was shaking her head. She reached out to pull my face to hers and gave me a sweet, lingering kiss. "Let's play ? tennis." she said. The courts were crowded and it seemed as though we would have to go to the club, after all, but Tom and his partner were on a court, and invited us to join them for doubles. We accepted the invitation. Tom gave me a few jock-type pats, but nothing else. Just before finishing, he said that he would like to drive me home. I was trembling, but smiled and said, okay. I told Kim that I would see her later. "Good luck," she said. Tom wasted no time. "I don't understand what happened at the party, T'esa, and what it was all about. Fill me in, will you? "Okay," I sighed. "Let me give you the short version." I told him how Mommy had, changed my name and pushed me steadily in the direction of feminization - and how I had accepted that willingly. "I have to add, Tom, that I was ready for this in some ways, and I feel very comfortable as a girl. Mommy has me headed for a sex-change." "But, T'esa, is it true that you begged Beth to let you dress up for that party? Did you know that she was gong to expose your real sexual identity?" "No to both, Tom. That was a real shock, and very unfair of her. But that is not new in our relationship. Besides, I kind of like being dominated and controlled. She spanks me and sometimes humiliates me - as you saw - and something in me responds to that. She is a very strong person, and insists that I submit to her will. Strange as it may seem, I need, want that. I had very little guidance from my parents or grandparents, and it feels good to know that someone is in charge of my life. I must add, I do not have any alternative - except a foster home. And that..." I could not finish and did not need to. I was crying a little when we pulled into the drive. Tom reached over and gently wiped my tears away with his fingers. I began to sob, and he pulled me to his chest, stroking my head. "T'esa, you are the pettiest girl in the world." My heart flooded with warmth and I turned my head up, offering him my lips. He hesitated, but leaned over and kissed me gently, so gently. I loved being in his arms, and so aroused when he put his hand on my bare tummy, and let it slide down to the waist of my panties. I didn't want him to go there, but I was not going to stop him. I just put my arms around his neck and slipped my tongue into his mouth. I dropped my hand to his groin; his cock stiffened as I fondled it. My heart wanted to keep on, but my head was filled with misgivings. Just then, Mommy's car zipped into the drive behind us, and we pulled apart. "Oh, T'esa," he groaned, "oh, oh." We jumped out of opposite doors to say hello to Mommy. I told her we were just back from tennis, but our flushed faces told her what was going on. She smiled, and went into the house. "See you later, T'esa - that was fun - the tennis, I mean." he smiled, got in his car, and drove off. After dinner that night, Mommy asked me, with a knowing smile, what Tom and I were doing when she drove up behind us. I was embarrassed, but confessed that Tom and I were smooching. "Is that all, Dear? I thought I noticed quite a lump in Tom's pants." "Mommy, I did have my hand on the crotch of Tom's shorts, and he had his on my tummy, but that is as far as it went. So there was no masturbation." "I am glad to hear that, Ter