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A Room with a View. (With apologies to EM Forster) By Belle Gordon Chapter One His name is Alexander Evelyn Carpenter, and I know a lot about him. I know his age - 19, his birthday -April 25th, his school history, where he lives, where he came from. I know his height and weight and his shoe size. I know his likes and dislikes, his music preferences and what he reads. I even know what he had for breakfast this morning. I also know that he is gay. How do I know so much about this young man? Because I'm obsessed with him. I am what is commonly termed in today's press, a stalker. He is constantly in my thoughts; I think of little else. I spend my time observing him and finding out as much about him and his life as I can. My life revolves about him - but he is unaware of my attention. I am very discrete in my research, and he suspects nothing. My long term plan is to eventually meet him and ultimately seduce him. I became aware of Alexander Evelyn Carpenter 7 months ago when in early May he and his Father moved into the apartment on the opposite side the street from my flat. It had been vacant for some time and I was surprised when workmen arrived one morning and began painting and renovating the apartment. I had a clear view into the building and watched from my living room as over the next few days the old floor coverings were stripped out and new carpets laid, then furniture and appliances was brought in followed by boxes and cases of what I presumed were the new occupants' personal effects. Finally a taxi pulled up and a man and a youth alighted each carrying a suitcase. The man was fairly nondescript; late forties, greying hair, suited, probably a civil servant I thought. But the boy! Oh my, such a beauty. He was tall and slender with longish wavy blond hair that framed his angelic face. As he looked around he glanced up in my direction and I saw that his eyes were the lightest cornflower blue. His nose was straight with a pretty upturned tip and his lips were full and fleshy forming a perfect cupid's bow. He wore a yellow tee shirt under a pale blue bomber jacket and very tight hipster jeans that accentuated his long shapely legs. His jeans were tucked into the top of tooled leather cowboy boots with a two inch heel. At some time he must have been to America I thought because it would be difficult to buy boots like that in London. Over the next few hours I watched as they unpacked boxes and settled in. I was thrilled to see that Alexander took the bedroom at the front of the building directly across the street from me, which meant his father had taken the second bedroom at the back. I knew the geography of their apartment as the layout of all the buildings were identical on both sides of the street. When I'd first moved into my flat I had fitted drapes on the windows that enabled me to see out but with the lights turned off no-one could see in. At about that same time I'd bought myself a large reflecting telescope. I'd been interested in astronomy and was na?ve enough to think I could observe the stars from my top floor apartment. I quickly discovered that the light pollution was so great in central London that it was even difficult to see the full moon on a clear night. I now used it primarily for spying on other residents in the area who were careless enough to leave their curtains open. Having ensured that the drapes were properly closed I now focused the lens on Alexander's room. The view that greeted my eye was incredible. After a little adjustment of the focal length the image was so sharp and clear that I felt I was in the room with him. I watched as he sat on the floor stacking books onto a shelf. I again marvelled at his extraordinary beauty. His hair had fallen forward partly obscuring his lovely face and I watched mesmerized as he casually brushed it back behind his ear in a totally feminine manner. At that moment his father must have called him because he gracefully stood and left the room. I remained staring into the eyepiece long after he had gone and only when I took my eye from the instrument did I realize I was painfully hard. It was after ten o'clock when I saw the light in his room come on. I was watching television but was keeping one eye on his window awaiting his return. He closed the curtain and my heart sank. I quickly went to my scope and looked across the few dozen meters into his room. I was relieved to see that the magnification was so great and the material so thin that I had an almost unobstructed view, just a slight greyness to which my eye quickly adjusted. His father followed Alexander into the room and together they got sheets, pillows and a duvet and made up his bed, then he helped to put away the remainder of the clothes that were still lying around the room. Satisfied those things were pretty much straightened out for the time being Alexander went to his father, stood on his toes and kissed him on the lips and said good night. When the door closed Alexander stripped off his tee shirt and jeans, then hooked his thumbs into the sides of the bikini briefs and slid them down his legs. Naked he walked into the en-suite bathroom and I was deprived of the pleasure of watching him shower. A short while later the bathroom door opened and the naked youth entered. He stood at the window and vigorously dried his hair. I now had the perfect view of his body. His torso was slim and his shoulders were narrow. His pecs were soft and fleshy giving the appearance of small breasts with pert pink nipples. They bounced and jiggled slightly as he towelled his hair. He had a tiny waist that flared into almost womanly hips with a taught rounded bottom. His legs were exceptionally long and the impression I'd gained when he had first arrived that they were shapely was confirmed now that I could see them properly. His body appeared to be quite hairless, (or if there was any it was very fair), except for the bush of blond curls atop his genitals. For someone with such a slight body his penis was large and meaty and seemed out of proportion. It swayed and flopped deliciously as he moved about. I was frustrated when he pulled on a large tee shirt covering up his divine body, got into bed and turned off his light. I was surprised to discover that my panties were soaked with cum. Chapter Two My name is Peter Mason, (I was baptized Piotr Markova but changed it after my parents' death.) I'm 32, single, a voyeur and a gay cross dresser. I am wealthy enough not to need to work for a living having a substantial income from investments and property. This happy state of affairs is thanks to my paternal grandfather whose estate I inherited when he died, as I was his only surviving heir. My own parents and most of my extended family were all tragically murdered during the war in Kosovo as part of the so-called ethnic cleansing. I was spared a similar fate because I'd been packed off to a boarding school in England at the time. I never returned but went on to university in Oxford where I graduated from Baillio College, with a BA degree in political science and sociology. After graduating I spent two years travelling the world before buying my apartment in a fashionable area of Marylebone close to Portman Square. If asked to describe myself I'd say I was average. Average height, average weight, (or perhaps a little underweight due to not eating properly), average build, dark hair, brown eyes, in fact nothing to distinguish me from 90% of the male population. In short, an ordinary looking guy. However, when I dress up in my feminine finery my ordinariness disappears and I become a very attractive passable young lady. Despite my wealth I live modestly my only extravagance being fine lingerie and designer dresses and shoes. At university I had two heterosexual affairs neither of which could be called a success. I entered into them only because it was the norm and was expected of red blooded males, but they really did nothing for me. It was when I was trying, and failing to perform, with the second of these girlfriends that I had my Damascus moment. I suddenly realized that I didn't want to be the one sweating and grunting on top of a girl. I wanted to be the girl lying under some handsome guy who was fucking the life out of me. Once I accepted the fact that I preferred other men my life changed dramatically. I became involved with an underground group of gays who spent afternoons screwing and frolicking naked and it was during this period that I discovered the joy of cross dressing. I also discovered that there are many men who like their sissy boys to dress as girls. Perhaps it was through feelings of guilt that if a man looked like a girl, they reasoned, they could pretend he was a girl and it would therefore be OK to fuck a guy. This goes some way to explaining my reaction to Alexander Carpenter. My first sight of his nakedness had a profound effect on me. I knew immediately that I loved him. I decided that I must learn as much about him as I could before orchestrating a meeting. Hence I devised my plan to gather the information I needed. And one of the first ways I did this was by spying on him with my telescope from across the street. I also discovered where he went each day. I waited till he left his house then followed him as he walked to Marble Arch underground station and boarded a train. I got in the next carriage and alighted when he did at Sheppard's Bush. He walked along the Uxbridge road before turning into Lime Grove. A short way along the street he entered the London College of Fashion and Design. From my observations I knew he got back home at roughly the same time each day, so I returned to Lime Grove in the afternoon and waited for him. He emerged with a group of other students, chatted for a while then headed back the way he'd come. I fell in behind him and boarded the tube with him, this time in the same carriage. Being the rush hour the train was packed so I stood right behind him. I was close enough to touch him and was tempted to press against him but restrained myself instead I breathed in his heady aroma of what I was sure was a 'Chanel' perfume. I followed him when he alighted till he turned into his street, then left because I knew where he was going and anyway I had some errands to do. It is quite easy to follow someone. Normally innocent people don't expect to be followed so they rarely look around. The trick is to not allow them to get too far ahead where you could lose sight of them, or to get too close behind where you might be rumbled. Although on crowded footpaths it is possible to follow within a few meters of the subject. I puzzled for a long time as to how I could gain entry to his flat. I needed access to his personal items and papers. Breaking and entering was out of the question as it would be a one-off entry and I'd need to come and go many times. It would also probably involve the police. Likewise posing as a utility worker would only allow me access once. I thought about buying a set of skeleton keys, but then realized I had no idea where to acquire them or how to use them if I did. I considered asking a locksmith to open the door for me claiming I'd lost my keys but then what do I do the next time. In the end it was surprisingly simple. As always I was watching from my window and saw the father leave as usual at around 8 o'clock, then about an hour later Alexander left carrying a thick folder under his arm on his way to college. He closed and locked the door behind himself and slipped his keys into his jacket pocket but somehow they fell and dropped onto the door mat. (This was presumably why he didn't hear them fall). As soon as he was out of sight I ran across the road and retrieved his bunch of keys. I hurried to the end of the street where there are several small shops one of which is a shoe-mender who also cuts keys. A man was reading a newspaper when I entered and I asked him to cut me a duplicate set and ten minutes later I held the solution to the problem of access in my hand. Keys are funny things really. They are vital for security and an essential part of modern life, but if you don't know what locks they open they are quite useless. So people who find keys rarely keep them but generally hand them in to a nearby shop or the police, or leave them somewhere they can be easily seen. Folks understand the problems involved when keys are lost. With this in mind I hooked Alexander's onto a spike of the iron railings that fronted the building. I didn't know of course, which key fitted which door or for what the several others on the ring were for, but trial and error would establish this. I selected one of the two larger brass keys and pushed it into the lock and turned. Bingo, first time lucky. I climbed the stairs to the top floor and used the second key to open the apartment door. I stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind me. I stood with my back to the door and surveyed the room. A large, comfortable looking three piece suite dominated the living area. A wide screen television was positioned in front of the sofa with a littered coffee table to one side. Ceiling height bookshelves filled the wall opposite the window and beside the door an ornate roll-top desk with pigeon holes stuffed with papers and a telephone. I looked in the kitchen area. Exactly what one would expect. Sink, fridge, microwave, dishwasher and cooking hob. Dirty plates from last night's meal were stacked on the work-top beside the sink. I next checked-out Alex's father's room. It contained a large double bed, a dresser, a large wardrobe with at least two dozen suits hanging in it; a desk with another telephone, an ink blotter and a box with pens, envelopes and stationary items. An opened letter lay on the blotter addressed to Sir Rupert E Carpenter, KCMG. So, Alex's daddy was a Knight. Looking further I soon discovered that Sir Rupert was not a civil servant as I first thought but was in fact the Chairman and Chief Executive of the Royal Merchant Traders Bank. I opened the drawer of the desk and was intrigued to find a photograph of the late Camilla de Castro. On the back was written, 'To my darling Rupert Bear with love from your dear friend, Camilla.' Well, well. How interesting. Leaving Sir Rupert's room I walked through the lounge and down the short corridor to Alex's room. His door was locked and it took me several tries before I found the correct key. The first thing that I noticed was the flowery perfume that pervaded the room. The scent was intoxicating and I soon discovered its source. On his dressing table were many bottles and jars of perfumes and eau-de-toilettes. My telescopic observations had not prepared me for the overwhelming assault on my nostrils. I pretty much knew where everything was in this room having studied it thoroughly through my scope but I had no idea what his bathroom was like. It was quite a bit smaller than his father's one, (which was probably how the rooms were decided upon), but quite adequate. Again the air was redolent with perfume. There was a modern power shower in one corner and besides it the toilet bowl. The wash-hand basin was built into the dressing table with a large wall mounted mirror fixed above it. I scanned his toiletries scatted about the surface; a large variety of hair care products, shampoos, conditions and tints; an expensive looking blow drier, a couple of styling brushes, a comb and surprisingly a bag of plastic rollers. He also had a large range of skin care items, moisturizing creams, oils, skin rejuvenators, ex- foliates and talc's. I didn't find any shaving equipment but he had a small electric Lady-shave razor. On a shelf above the bowl were a stack of clean towels. Returning to the bedroom I booted-up his computer. I'd observed that he spent several hours each evening on it and I was curious to see what sites he visited. Like most users he hadn't deleted his surfing history, (if he even knew how) and by opening this I knew exactly where he'd been and what he'd done. Unsurprisingly most of it was college work but a couple of sites stuck out like a sore thumb. Fictionmania and Crystals Story Site, both of which cater to devotees of transvestite literature. He was also a frequent visitor to Crystal's chat room. With this knowledge I shut down the computer, checked that I hadn't disturbed anything to give my visit away, and left locking the doors behind me. Chapter Three Later that evening I logged-on to Crystal's chat room and waited. He had been working at his computer for an hour when I saw a new name enter the chat room. It could of course be anyone but I was almost certain it was he as he used the name Evelyn to log on. The customary 'Hi's' and 'How are you's' were exchanged as well as the usual inane banter, before I asked Evelyn if she would like to talk privately. Immediately a new window opened. We talked for half an hour about inconsequentials; where do you live, what do you do, age, sex, interests, etc. I subtly established his identity with innocence sounding questions before he announced he had to go. We agreed to chat again tomorrow at the same time. We met up each evening for the next two weeks and gradually as he became more confident and trusting, together with the anonymity of the internet, he opened up. I learned a lot about his early life; where he went to school; that he hated it because of the constant bullying; of his friendship with an older boy who looked after him, but expected payment with sexual favours. "What sort of sexual favours?" I asked. "I would have to suck his cock." "Did you mind doing that?" "At first I did but I got to like it after a while." he replied, "and anyway it was better than getting beaten up." I asked him to describe what it was like to suck cock, pretending to be shocked by such an act. (I, of course didn't let on that I was a past master at the art of fellatio). "Oh, Belle, (Belle is the log in name I use) it's so thrilling to hold a hard hot cock in your hands and slowly lower your eager mouth to the head, then to swallow as much of the length as you can. I loved to bring him off and drink all his lovely cum." "Wow" as my response. "I haven't done it again since then but I still think about it." "Would you like to do it again?" "I don't know; it would depend. Who it was, whether I like him, the circumstances, you know?" Shortly after this revelation we said goodbye and agreed to meet on- line again tomorrow. Now that I had access to the Carpenter's apartment I implemented the next stage of my plan. I paid a visit to a shop on the Edgware road that sold electronic surveillance equipment and purchased two tiny TV cameras hidden inside phoney smoke alarms. They were exactly the same model as the ones already installed so it was a simple matter to substitute one for the other. To operate them I used my mobile phone to call the sim-card incorporated in the devise which silently switched them on. This meant they were only used when I needed them and so conserved the batteries. The gadgets were wireless and transmitted pictures and sound over a range of a hundred meters, more than adequate to beam a signal across the street. I had to return to their flat a couple of times to adjust the field of vision but finally I had a clear view of Alex's bedroom and bathroom from high on the walls. Alongside my computer monitor I'd positioned a television and watched the CCTV image of Alexander as the shut down his laptop. He stretched his arms above his head and stood and as he turned and faced the camera I saw that his penis was erect and sticking out of his pants. The memories of his cock sucking school days had obviously excited him. He stripped naked and walked into his bathroom, his penis swaying before him. I switched cameras and watched him get under the shower and soap his body. His hands found his prick and he slowly masturbated using the soapy water as a lubricant. My own cock was also bursting for attention. I loosened the sash of my satin negligee, lowered my panties, grasped my hot shaft and matched my strokes to Alex's. We were in perfect harmony. As I heard his gasp of pleasure and saw his cum explode from his penis my own orgasm arrived with the same shattering result. That night I dreamt of the beautiful Alexander on his knees sucking my cock. Chapter Four On most Saturday's and occasionally during the week I pack a suitcase, take a taxi to The Tower Hotel by St Katherine Docks and book a room for a night. Once ensconced the average looking Peter is transformed into the beautiful Penelope. Over time I have become extremely proficient at assuming the female form and persona that now I am so completely convincing as a woman that I don't believe my own mother, were she still alive, would recognize me. Many hours of practice and many hundreds of pound have been spent perfecting my skill. I now possess an extensive wardrobe of dresses, skirts and tops, many pairs of shoes, I own half a dozen wigs of varying colours and styles, I have loads of accessories and jewellery and a comprehensive collection of make-up. For this evening I'd chosen a short haired auburn wig, a sleek iridescent blue cocktail dress made from shot silk, matching silk shoes with a 3" heel and tan nylon stockings. The skirt was a bit short for comfort but it displayed my legs nicely so I decided it was worth the potential embarrassment of flashing my panties. I'd bought a new bra and with my 34B forms it looked really nice. It too was a similar colour to my dress so I wasn't too concerned if the straps showed. I finished the ensemble with some jewellery; a heavy gold neck chain, a pair of diamond stud earrings, a ladies diamond wrist watch, some gold bracelets and several rings. When I was happy with my make-up and appearance I collected my topcoat and handbag, checked to see I had my credit cards, lipstick, spare pair of panties and a condom (you never know) and left my room. It was still early evening so I decided to get a drink at the bar before eating dinner in the hotels excellent dining room. I found a table by a window that looked out across the Thames and ordered a gin and tonic from the waiter. As I sipped my drink I amused myself by speculating on who the other patrons were and what they did. I got a lot of admiring looks from three young lads sitting at the bar who probably thought I was fair game and were trying to pluck up the courage to come over and speak to me. An elderly couple sitting close by glowered at me disapprovingly, probably thinking I was a hooker and should be thrown out. They'd be really shocked, I thought, if they knew I was a man. After I'd eaten a leisurely meal of lightly steamed Dover sole washed down with a half bottle of Chablis my little watch said it was past ten o'clock; time to go. I visited the ladies room, peed and touched up my lipstick. The hall porter helped me on with my coat and inquired if I needed a taxi. I declined as I enjoyed walking at night. Leaving the hotel I crossed the road and strolled up past the Tower of London, under the Fenchurch Street Station bridge into Minories before turning left into Crosswall Street the home of The Way-Out Club. It was starting to get lively when I arrived but I managed to find a seat at the bar and order a drink. The club was filling with the usual assortment of the gorgeous, the bizarre and the outrageous transvestites and cross dressers as well as their admirers. I waved to several girls I knew. As I waited for my drink to arrive a voice to my right asked, "Can I get you a drink, Miss?" "No thank you" I said, "I've just ordered one." Thinking it was a waiter. "Then please allow me to pay for it." I turned to see who my benefactor was and nearly fell off my seat. Standing at my side waving a fifty pound note was none other than Sir Rupert Carpenter. I was totally non-plussed. I almost gave myself away, staring opened mouthed as I recognized him. But he didn't seem to notice anything untoward. "Thank you," I stammered, "it's very kind of you." "My pleasure." He held out his hand and said "Name's Rupert." "Like the bear" I said, trying to be clever, then wished I hadn't when I saw that he was not amused. "I'm Penelope, pleased to meet you." I took his hand and was surprised when he lifted it to his lips and kissed the back of my fingers. "Likewise, I'm sure. Such a charming name for such a pretty girl." "Thank you, I'm flattered" I said, "but you do know what this place is all about, don't you?" "Of course, little bit of heaven on Earth. A place where the Beautiful people meet. And you are one of the most beautiful if I may say so. I see a table over there; would you care to join me?" Still holding my hand he led me to a table in a corner away from the stage and dance floor. He held my chair for me to sit. "I don't remember seeing you in here before." I said. "First visit. Haven't lived in London long. Moved here from the Midlands. Promotion, you know." He had an odd staccato manner of speaking, spitting sentences out in short bursts. "Does your wife know you are here?" I mischievously asked. "Divorced. Couldn't stand the woman. Live with my son." This explained why I'd never seen a woman at their apartment. He talked away; firing salvos of words at me while we drank then ordered another round. After it arrived he took a pull then said, "Care to dance?" He took my arm and marched me onto the dance floor before I had a chance to say yes or no. He danced extremely well, leading me around floor with a sureness that spoke of one who has complete control over what he does and expects others to follow his orders. I was quite giddy and puffed when the music finished. I was not used to dancing with such an energetic partner. I was glad when we resumed out seats. We watched the cabaret and sipped another drink. After it was over and the noise level had quietened down a little he lent towards me and whispered, "If I gave you a hundred pounds would you give me something?" "I'm not on the game." I snapped. "You've got the wrong girl if that's what you want." "No, no, no, don't get me wrong. What I'd like is an article of your clothing." I stared at him not understanding what he meant. "You know," he said winking his eye, "pop into the Ladies and slip them off." Then the penny dropped. "You want to buy my panties for one hundred pounds?" "That's right old girl." I reached for my bag that was on the floor by my side and said, "I have a spare pair in here you can have." "Oh, no! That won't do. Must be the ones you're wearing." I thought about his proposition for a moment and decided it would be the easiest hundred quid I'd ever make, and it would pay for my hotel. So I walked to the ladies loo, entered a stall and slid my panties off. I sat on the pan and peed then replaced them with the spare pair from my handbag. The panties were a new pair I'd worn for the first time today. They matched my bra, in blue satin with a pretty smoke grey lace trim from the Elle McPherson Intimates range. It was then I remembered they had cost me sixty pounds and with the bra the cost was well over a hundred. Ah well, too late now. I offered them to Sir Rupert whose hand trembled slightly as he took them. He glanced quickly round to see if anyone was watching them lifted them to his face and breathed in my smell. I blushed with embarrassment. "Thank you so much," he murmured passing two fifties to me. "I shall treasure them." I didn't know quite what to say, so I just nodded. Sir Rupert carefully folded the panties then put them into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "Can I see you again, Penelope?" he asked, "Would love to" "If you like, I come here most Saturdays." "Splendid. Enjoyed the evening. Look forward to seeing you again. My card." With a flourish he produced a business card from his top pocked and presented it to me. "Well must be off. Goodnight my dear." He placed his hands on my shoulders, pulled me towards him and kissed me on the lips. Then was gone. I gathered my coat and bag and left soon after Rupert as things were starting to wind down. The walk back to the hotel sobered me up somewhat which was a good thing as I had a lot to think about. Chapter Five Now that I had gained Alexander's confidence and he appeared to like our online chats, I decided to put the next step of my plan into operation. I used the internet to purchase from Agent Provocateur dot com three matching sets of their prettiest panties, camisole tops, suspender belts and bras. One set was of ivory silk with pink lace, another in pink satin with black ribbon bow details, and one all black silk with lots of lace trimming. They were gorgeous. I very carefully removed all the labels then folded the panties in tissue paper and slid them into an A5 padded envelope together with the following letter. Dear Alexandra, Thank you for taking the time to read this letter. As your profile ideally matches the parameters we require, you have been selected to take part in a test marketing trial. Enclosed are three items of underwear from our forth-coming range, which we would like you to wear every day for a period of seven days rotating them daily. At the end of the seven day period you will be contacted again and your views sort as to the comfort, durability, and attractiveness of the garments. If you do decide to take part in the trial further items will be sent for your approval over the next few weeks. This trial is completely voluntary and there is no requirement on you to take part. If you decide not to participate the items are yours to keep anyway. However, we hope that you will enjoy wearing these lovely things and that you will help us with our research. Yours sincerely, Lady B-Wear Lingerie. Gt. Marlborough St, London. I addressed the envelope to Ms. Alexandra Carpenter then walked across Portman Square to the post office on Baker Street and posted it. One of the keys I'd copied fitted the Carpenter's mail box in the lobby of their building and I checked it daily to see if the package had been delivered. It took three days to arrive. When Alex arrived home that evening I saw him retrieve the parcel and take it to his room. I watched my TV set as he opened the envelope and withdrew the letter and panties. He inspected each pair closely before reading the letter, and then he examined the panties again. He laid them side by side on his bed and stared at them as though trying to decide which pair he liked the most. He re-read the letter. That evening I logged on as normal and we chatted for a while; how was your day? - kind of thing. Then, "You'll never guess what I received in the post today?" he asked. "Three pair of women's panties" he continued before I could respond to his question. "Some lingerie company wants me to wear them to test them out. They must think I'm a girl. How weird is that?" "You won't believe this, but I got the same thing, three pair of panties. How weird is that!?" I lied. "Wow." I paused before I said, "Are you going to?" I held my breath as his response would be critical. Depending on how he answered would determine if my plan would succeed or not. "What? Am I going to wear them?" "Yes." "I don't know. Are you going to?" "I already am." I said. "They're lovely. Why don't you put yours on?" "I thought I might later when I shower." "Why not do it now?" "Ok then, I will. I must say they're very pretty." I relaxed. He'd walked into my trap. I knew that once he put them on he would be hooked. Once he felt the silk and lace softly encasing his tush and balls he would be on the slippery slope to transvestism. I watched as he removed his trainers and socks, and then stripped off his jeans and underpants. He selected the ivory pair, bent from the waist and put one foot into the leg opening, then the other and slowly and sensually shimmied them up his legs. I could see his growing erection as he settled the panty round his waist and adjusted his balls in their silky prison. He smoothed his hands over his bottom, gently squeezing his firm cheeks through the silk. Next he removed his tee shirt and walked across the room and stood before his cheval mirror. He posed like a model, one knee slightly bent, and one hand on his hip the other held to the side palm up. He swiveled his hips first to the right and then to the left. He turned around and looked over his shoulder at his rear. His penis was now fully erect and protruding above the waist band. Suddenly he grabbed his hard cock and masturbated vigorously for a few seconds before he shot a huge amount of cum onto the mirror. As his orgasm overtook him he staggered and almost fell as his knees turned to butter. After a while he cleaned up and wiped the mirror, then returned to his computer. "Still there?" "You were gone a long time" I said when he announced his return. "What took you so long?" "Sorry had to do something." Yes I know you did, I thought to myself, like have a quick wank. "Well what do you think? Are you going to wear them and take part in the trial?" "Yes, I think I will. The panties are very nice to wear and after all, no one will know I have them on, will they?" "Good decision. I'm going to wear mine too" I said. "And you're quite right; no one else will know your secret." Except me of course. We chatted for a while longer before he said he had to go. "Bye, Evelyn. I'm looking forward to hearing what you felt like wearing ladies panties all day. Let me know tomorrow." "OK. Bye Belle." For the next hour I enjoyed watching Alex swapping pairs of panties, mincing round his room and posing in front of his mirror. He put his cowboy boots on and sashayed to and fro watching his reflection in the mirror at all times. At one point there was a knock on his door; his daddy had come to say good night. Alex casually slipped a bathroom over his shoulders and held it together at the waist. He made no great effort to hide the fact that he was wearing lacy pink panties from his father. They chatted for a few minutes before they kissed and he left the room. When the door closed Alex threw off the robe and I could see he was fully erect again. The thrill of talking to his father clad as he was must have greatly excited him. The spectacle on my TV was greatly exciting me too. I had been slowly stroking my rigid cock the whole time I'd watched his exhibition and my explosion was imminent. I'd tucked the front if my panties down under my balls and pulled my nightie up to my chest. Now as he swayed before his mirror gripping his boner in the black satin panties I could withhold no longer, and came with such explosive force that my sperm hit the television screen covering his sensual image. I lay in my chair gasping for breath, my softening cock dripping goo onto my fingers. At the same time Alexander collapsed onto his back on his bed, cum spurting from his cock-head like a fountain to splatter back onto his chest, belly and thighs. I went to sleep that night, my mind planning the next stage of my plan to turn Alexander into a pretty girl. Chapter Six Over the next few days Alex kept to his word and wore the panties each day. Before bedtime he hand-washed the soiled pair and hung them to dry over his shower rail, then donned a fresh pair to sleep in. During our daily on-line chats we talked about how it felt to wear such intimate and shocking items of ladies underwear. At first he was a little nervous, he said, going to classes wearing such things, but he soon got over it and now, he sheepishly confessed he preferred them to his normal underpants. Meanwhile, I had prepared a second parcel. In it I placed the three camisoles and three suspender belts together with this letter. Dear Alexandra, We at Lady B-Wear are sure that you are enjoying the experience of wearing our new range of panties. As part of our on-going research we are sending you these other items from our Intimates range that we would like you to wear each day. As mentioned in our first letter you are under no obligation to take part in the trial but we're sure that after you see and feel the enclosed clothing you will be more than willing to participate. The garments are, of course, yours to keep whatever you decide. Yours sincerely, Lady B-Wear Lingerie, Gt. Marlborough St, London. I deliberately ignored any mention of questionnaires or of obtaining feedback regarding the wearers' views. I suspected that Alexander wouldn't notice anyway. He was becoming too fond of them to care about any research. Alex's father was first home the evening the packet arrived and so collected the mail from their box. I noticed he examined it carefully, particularly the logo for Lady B-Wear Lingerie that I'd produced on my computer. He squeezed it and weighted it in his hands and I suspected he had a fairly good idea what it was. "I've had another package arrive," he said as soon as we logged on that evening. "Have you?" "No, nothing came for me. What's in it? What are they like?" I wanted to know. "There are three suspender belts. And I'm not sure what you call the other things. They're like a short sleeveless top with thin shoulder straps and lots of lacy bits. They all match the panties, though." "They sound like camisoles." I said. "Girls wear them under blouses. Do you like them?" "Oh yes, they're lovely and definitely very feminine. I can't wait to try them on." "What are you waiting for?" I had activated the CCTV when I'd seen him arrive home because I didn't want to miss anything. I could clearly see him visually because with the light evenings he didn't bother to close his curtains. He had torn open the envelope the minute he'd entered his room and laid the three camis and the garter belts out on his bed. "Oh dear. There are no stockings and I don't have any so I won't be able to wear the suspenders." I could have kicked myself for being so stupid. How could I have overlooked the obvious need for stockings? I thought I had a solution though. "What a pity," I said. "I expect they thought you would have your own as they assume you are a woman. Why don't you pop out to the supermarket and buy a couple of pairs?" "Good idea there's a big Tesco's not far from me. But I couldn't just go in and buy nylons, what would the checkout girls think?" "Not a problem." I said. "Just take your basket collect what you want then go to the self-service checkout and pay by credit card. No one will take any notice of you, believe me." "What should I buy?" he wanted to know. "Get half a dozen pairs in various shades. Make sure they are fully fashioned stockings and not tights or panty hose. And while you are there go to the toiletries section and pick up a bottle of Nair. It's hair remover and you'll need it for your legs." "OK. I won't be long." He was back inside half an hour carrying his purchases in a plastic bag. As soon as he entered his room he quickly stripped off his outer clothes. He wore the ivory panties so he picked up the corresponding cami and held it to his front for a minute then put his arms into the straps and put it over his head. It floated down his torso and settled into place. He adjusted the straps over his shoulders and smoothed his hands down the sides. He posed in front of his mirror and I could see he was already hard. Next he sat on the bed and I watched as he figured out how to clip the suspender at the front then swivel it round so the clasp was at his back. He tore open a packet containing a pair of tan stockings and, for a novice cross dresser, rolled them up his legs with considerable ease. "Oh, Belle, the tops are beautiful, so soft and silky. I've never worn anything like it before. And the stockings feel heavenly on my legs." he said when he returned to his keyboard. "So I needn't ask if you like them? You should have treated your legs with the Nair before you put the stockings on though. They feel so much better with perfectly smooth skin. In fact treat your whole body when you do your legs. It'll be worth it." It didn't occur to him to wonder how I was so knowledgeable. "Ok I'll do it later." "Are you going to wear the new stuff under your day clothes?" I wanted to know. "Oh yes, most definitely. They feel so wonderful against my skin." "I'm looking forward to mine arriving." I said. "They sound gorgeous." We broke the contact soon after that because he said he had a lot of work to get done, but he promised to tell me how it felt to wear a camisole, suspender and stockings all day the next time we talked. And he did work. He sat at his consul in his panties and camisole, frequently crossing his legs so as to savour the delicious sensation of nylon on nylon. He was totally absorbed in his work. I kept half an eye on the TV throughout the evening with the volume turned up so I could still hear whenever I left the room. The only sound that came from the speakers for the next three hours was the tapping of keys and the rustling of papers. I was painting my toenails when my attention was brought back to the TV by the sound of a knock on his door. "Yeah, Dad." I heard him shout. Meaning 'come in'. Sir Rupert walked in and immediately stopped dead, his mouth falling open. Alex had been concentrating so much that he had forgotten what he was wearing and had made no attempt to cover himself before inviting his father in. Alex looked up from his notes, saw his father astonished expression and said, "What?" At the same moment remembering how he was dressed. "Oh my God! I can explain, Dad. It's not what you think." he stammered, overcome with confusion and embarrassment. "It's alright, son. Don't worry about it. It's up you what you wear and I don't mind at all. It was just a bit of a surprised to see you wearing women's underwear is all." "You don't mind then? Me wearing this stuff?" He then launched into a babbling explanation as to how the clothes had arrived through the post. That the sender had mistaken him for a girl as the letter was addressed to Ms. Alexandra Carpenter. He had just tried them on as an experiment and discovered that he much preferred wearing panties to boys shorts, so had decided to take part in the trial. And then today the other things had arrived. "Yes, I noticed the envelope was addressed to an Alexandra when I collected it. Must say, they are very pretty things. They suit you. You'd make an attractive young girl, you know." "Awh, Dad, stop teasing me." "No I'm serious. I've often thought you should have been born a girl. You're much too cute and delicate to be a boy." "Do you really think so?" "Oh yes I do." Then after a pause, "I wonder, would you mind modelling the other things for me so that I can see what you look like in them?" "Ok I'd love to. Just a minute." He gathered up the other camis and headed for the bathroom. A few minutes later he re-emerged wearing the black ensemble. He minced around the room stopping now and again to strike a glamorous pose before again entering the bathroom. The next time he appeared he wore the pink set. These panties were a tiny little gee string and the cami wasn't as long as the others leaving his midriff exposed. He seemed unaware that they failed to hide his erection. He danced round the room pirouetting on his toes, one hand on his hip, the other flapping loosely. The camisole swayed about his upper body doing delightful things to his nipples, which had hardened and now protruded through the thin material. Finally he stopped in front of his father, took the hem of the cami between his thumbs and index fingers and bobbed a little curtsey. Sir Rupert, who was now seated on Alex's bed, and was bending forward in an attempt to hide his own tumescence, clapped his hands together applauding his son's lascivious exhibition. "Bravo! Excellent!" "Well what do you think, Daddy? Do you like the outfits?" Alex asked, with a certain degree of innocence. "Oh yes, very much. And I can see that you like them too." nodding towards Alex's crutch. Alexander glance down and noticed for the first time his throbbing cock standing proud and rearing out of the waist band of his panties dripping pre-cum onto the delicate lace. Alex dropped his hands in a vain attempt to cover his erection. "Thank you for the wonderful floorshow, Alex, you really are very sexy and effeminate. I could watch you for hours but regretfully, I must say good night." Rupert rose from the bed and stood before the boy. Alex reached forward and placed his hands on the father's hips. Rupert rested his left hand on the boy's shoulder then lent forward and kissed him on the lips. At the same time his right hand instinctively reached forward and covered Alex's cock and cupped his balls. The youth groaned and ejaculated drenching his father's hand and fingers in cum. The kiss lasted longer than was normal before they separated. Sir Rupert tuned and walked from the room licking his son's sperm from his fingers as he left. Chapter Seven I didn't visit The Way- Out Club for three weeks but when I did I was surprised to find Sir Rupert waiting. He spotted me as I entered and made a bee-line to me. "Hello, Penelope. I'm so glad you came," he gushed, "I was afraid you wouldn't show up again." "Hi. I told you I usually come on Saturday's" "I know you did, but you haven't been for a few weeks and when you hadn't arrived by eleven o'clock I thought I'd missed you again." "I've been busy lately and tonight I've been dining with my dear friend Davina Collier." I turned to my companion and said, "Davina meet Rupert; Rupert this is Davina." They shook hands. "Pleased to meet you, Rupert." Davina said in his rich baritone voice, which he made no attempt to disguise just because he was in drag. "I'll catch you later, Penny." He turned and headed off towards the bar in a swirl of taffeta and sequins. I'd known Davina or David from college days where we had discovered our mutual love of cross dressing and had stayed in contact, meeting up periodically for a girl's night out. We found a table and ordered drinks. I began to feel a little uncomfortable as Sir Rupert kept staring at me. "Is there something wrong with me?" I asked. "Oh dear, no," he said, "on the contrary, you look wonderful. Even more beautiful than the last time we met." "Why, thank you. You know how to flatter a girl." I had made a special effort with my make-up and clothes this evening, partly because I was meeting Davina, but also because I was hoping to meet Rupert again. I had gone for a sophisticated look this evening, choosing to wear a conservative burgundy knee-length crepe shift with a white silk blouse under it, black court shoes, and bronze hose and with a modest amount of jewellery. I wore a blond wig which I'd styled to look as much like Alex's hair as I could manage, and I think it worked because Rupert kept looking at it as if trying to recall where he'd seen it before. "I have a present for you." he said, extracting a small box from his jacket pocket. "Hope you don't mind." I opened it and found a small gold heart-shaped locket on a gold chain nestled in black velvet. It was engraved on the back 'To Penelope, from Rupert, with love and affection.' "It's lovely." I said. "Thank you so much. Will you help me put it on?" I turned in my seat presenting my back to him and lifted the hair from my neck. His hands were warm and trembling slightly as he gently joined the two ends of the chain. His hands stroked the sides of my neck and then I felt his lips touch the sensitive skin at the top of my spine. I shivered. We danced together several times, watched the cabaret, had more drinks and watched the revellers. "Can I ask you something personal, Penelope?" He said after he'd taken a large swig of his drink. "You can ask," I replied, "but I might not answer." "I know of course that beneath your lovely clothes and make-up you're a man, but you are so beautiful that I have to keep reminding myself of the fact. You're so expert at the art of female mimicry; your mannerisms and deportment are so feminine that it is very difficult to tell you are not a true woman. It's quite obvious that you've had an awful lot of practice to have become so accomplished." I bowed my head in acknowledgement of his compliments. "Well the thing is, would you be willing to give me some advice on how you do it?" "You want my advice on how to cross dress?" "Yes, but how to do it properly. So as to be convincing, not like some of the patrons in here." He nodded towards a person grotesquely made up like a pantomime dame, gyrating obscenely on the dance floor. "Let me get this straight." I said. "You want my guidance and instruction on how to cross dress?" "Yes, but it's not me who wants to cross-dress, it's someone else." "Who is this person?" "My son." "What!?" "Yes, he's begun dressing in feminine lingerie. He says he prefers them to his boys' clothes and wishes he could dress as a girl all the time. He is very effeminate looking and to be honest I think he would be happier if he were a girl. Or at least a boy who looks like a girl." I was flabbergasted at his suggestion. I had not suspected that he wanted to encourage Alex with his cross-dressing. I had of course witnessed how they had behaved with each other when Alex had modelled the lingerie, and how they had both become excited by it. "Is your son willing to go along with this?" "Yes, I think so. He's already expressed his desire to wear feminine underwear so I'm sure he would want to go further." I pretended to turn the proposition over in my mind before saying, "It will be very expensive." "I'll pay you whatever you want." "No, it's not for me. You'll have to buy him clothes, shoes, underwear a whole wardrobe of things. Not to mention make-up, hairdressing, manicures, beauty salon visits etc. It's not cheap being a woman." "I pay whatever it costs. I'm not without means." "OK then, I'll give you my advice for whatever it's worth. I don't suppose I could meet him?" "I'd prefer it if you didn't for the time being. He's still unsure of himself. Let's see how things progress first, and then if he's really serious about it I could arrange for you to meet him." "Do you at least have any photographs of the boy so that I can get an idea of what will suit him?" He produced his wallet from an inside pocket and took out two pictures and handed them to me. They didn't do justice to Alex's beauty but I examined them carefully, as if seeing him for the first time. "Mmm," I said, studying the photos. "He's a very pretty boy. I shall need his measurements; height, weight, chest, waist, hips etc. I'll give you my e-mail address and you can send them to me." He promised to get the information I required and also some newer photographs. Shortly after we said our goodbyes and left the club. My head was buzzing with exciting possibilities at my unexpected and unforeseen good fortune. Chapter Eight When I arrived back at my apartment on Monday morning an e-mail from Sir Rupert was waiting detailing all the information I'd asked for, together with several photographs. I replied immediately with a list of items he was to buy and outlets where he might purchase them, as I suspected he wouldn't know where to go. Sir Rupert returned to their apartment much earlier than usual and before Alexander loaded down with bags and packages. He must have spent the day shopping and bought everything on my list. Earlier I had sent an e-mail explaining in detail how he should proceed. I didn't want him to suddenly produce a whole wardrobe of women's clothing, but I wanted him to gradually introduce different items so that Alex could get accustoming to them. When Alex arrived home he went to his room as usual and stripped off his outer garments. He wore the black ensemble with black stockings and looked ravishing. I could feel my cock hardening as I watched him moving casually about the room. There was a knock on his door and he grabbed his dressing gown and draped it over his shoulders not bothering to put his arms into the sleeves. Clutching it together at the waist he opened the door and admitted his father. "Hello Alexandra, how are you?" I noticed he used the feminine form of his name. "Fine, thank you Daddy." "That's good. I've bought you a present." He handed the boy a box done up with a pink ribbon. As Alex reached for it the front of his robe opened exposing his sexy underwear to Sir Rupert's eager gaze. He quickly tore the wrapping from the box, opened it and took from it a pair of pink leather sling-back sandals with three inch stiletto heels. "Oh Daddy, they're wonderful." He squealed. "Thank you so much. How did you know I always wanted a pair of high heels?" He threw his arms around his father's neck and kissed him on the lips. The robed slipped from his shoulders and fell disregarded to the floor. "Well you have such lovely legs I thought a nice pair of shoes would show them off better. Try them on; I think I got the right size." Alexander sat on his chair and slipped his dainty feet into them, then lent forward to fasten the tiny buckle at the side of the ankle. "Daddy can you help me please?" He simpered. He raised his foot into the air and Sir Rupert went to his knees and took the boys foot in his hands. After he'd buckled them he lent forward and kissed the instep and then the toes of each foot before placing them on the ground. "Help me up please Daddy." Alex teased holding up a limp-wristed hand for Sir Rupert to take. As the boy came to his feet his erection was clearly visible tenting the front of his panties and he made no attempt to hide it. Holding onto his father arm they walked round the room and stopped in front of Alex's cheval mirror. Sir Rupert stood behind his son and gazed at the lovely reflection. His eyes roved down the boy's body taking in the gauzy black camisole with the shadows of his nipples clearly visible; his lacy suspender belt holding up taught black stockings and the pink high heels before fixing on the shear black panties unsuccessfully trying to contain his rigid penis whose leaking head protruded above the elasticated waist band. "Oh Alex," choked Sir Rupert, "You are so beautiful." His arms encircled his waist and he kissed him in the hollow of his neck. Alex threw back his head and gasped as though he'd been scalded. Sir Rupert hands slid forward and slipped down the front of the boy's panties. One hand cupped his balls and the other gripped the throbbing shaft. Kissing his neck and shoulders he slowly squeezed and stoked his sons cock and balls. Sir Rupert pushed his hips forward pressing himself against Alex's buttocks and lodging his erection in to valley of the boy's firm mounds. In only a few minutes Alex cried out, "Oh, Daddy, that feels so good. I'm going to cum. I'm going to cum for you Daddy. Oh Daddy please make me cum." A powerful spurt of semen erupted from the eye of Alexander's penis and hit the mirror at the height of his reflected head, followed by a second and third. Alex collapsed back against his father who had to support him with an arm around his waist. His other hand still held his sons shrinking prick which continued to ooze spunk over his fingers. At the same moment Sir Rupert also ejaculated soaking his insides of his boxer shorts and trousers. He shuddered with relief as his throbbing penis poured forth a huge quantity of sperm. Alex opened his eyes and gazed at his father's reflection with love and adoration. He straightened his legs, and turned to face his father. Sir Rupert was forced to release the boys cock but held his dripping hand in the air away from his body. "Oh, Daddy, that was so wonderful." he breathed. "Thank you so much for doing it to me." He kissed his father on the lips thrusting his tongue in his mouth. Sir Rupert met his tongue with his own and they duelled for several minutes, each savouring the joy of deep and passionate kisses. When they separated Alex asked, "Are we very naughty to do this?" "Yes I'm afraid we are. What we've done is called incest and we have just broken the law and could go to prison if anyone finds out." He paused noticing his son's obvious concern. "It's a very serious offence - but I won't tell if you don't." "Okay, Daddy I won't, I promise." He heaved a sigh of relief knowing that if his father was prepared to accept the sin they had just committed then it was fine with him too. "But can we do it again soon?" "Oh, Alex, you're such a little tease. You're the sexiest little girly boy in the world so how can I refuse you anything. You're a little vixen and I love you dearly. Now let's go and get something to eat." Sir Rupert let his son go and turned to leave. A huge wet stain covered the front of his pants. As he walked from the room he licked the cum that covered the fingers of his right hand, and thought 'now this is what I call tasty food' Watching this performance I had ejaculated three times and I was still hard. Chapter Nine "Daddy gave me a pair of high heeled shoes." Alex said without preamble when he logged on to our chat room later that evening. "Wow" I said. "That's very nice of him." "He likes me to wear ladies clothes. He's bought a floral silk blouse and a pair of girls' hipster jeans." We discussed for a while whether he should wear them to college or not. He was disinclined at first but with my encouragement he agreed. He recalled that several of his friends wore unisex clothing and often items that were clearly girls' things. And anyway, he concluded, as it was a college of fashion and design you were almost expected to wear outrageous clothes. I suggested he wear a top coat when he travelled to and fro as he could be subjected to verbal abuse from less enlightened members of the public. Although, on reflection, I don't suppose anyone would give a damn. Next morning I watched him dress in the blouse and jeans over his ivory lingerie set. He stuffed the legs of his jeans into his cowboy boots and strapped a broad leather belt around his waist. Being hipsters the blouse wasn't long enough to tuck in and the waist band of his panties were visible whenever he bent forward together with several inches of his midriff. Following my advice he donned a large hoodie and zipped it up. Alex had becomes friendly with another student named Sam Gardener. Samantha, as he liked to be known, was also experimenting with cross- dressing and over the weeks they talked a lot about clothes and make-up and discussed aspects of feminization. One afternoon Alex invited Sam to his apartment to show him his wardrobe. By this time Sir Rupert had been buying Alex all sorts of clothes. Lots of girly tops, blouses and sweaters. He'd purchased many pairs of women's slacks and trousers, as well as shoes, accessories and underwear, but had not yet bought him a dress. In fact by now Alex owned more women's clothing that boy stuff. He only ever wore male garb when absolutely necessary, and never in the apartment, preferring to wear the most feminine things he could reasonably get away with or at the very least unisex clothes. I switched on the CCTV as the two entered Alex's room. They immediately discarded their top coats and relaxed with soft drinks. Alex showed Sam his wardrobe and they discussed the various outfits. Soon they were stripped down to their underwear and were trying on different garments. I was not surprised to see that Sam was also wearing lingerie under his day clothes. He wore matching red panties and suspender belt holding up bronze coloured stockings but I was surprised to see he also wore a lacy red bra. "Hey, I love your bra Samantha." Alex said. "But why do you need one?" "My breasts are developing and I need the bra for support" "Wow. Can I see?" Sam reached behind his back and unclipped his bra then sucked if off his shoulders to reveal two perfect womanly breasts topped with prominent pink nipples. "Oh, they're beautiful." Alex gasped his eyes wide with wonder. "I do so envy you. I'd love to have breasts of my own. How did you get them?" "I've been using a breast enlarging hormone cream for about six months now and they've just grown. I love them too, they make me feel so feminine." he said slowly kneading them. "Can I feel them?" "Of course." Alex gently squeezed Sam's breasts one in each hand and softly pinched his nipples with his thumb and forefingers. "Mmm, that feels so nice." Sam sighed. "It makes me feel tingly all over." "I wish I had tits too." he said. "If you like I'll get you some of the cream I use. Just follow the instructions and before you know it you'll have your own pair of beauties." " "Oh, yes please, Sam. That would be wonderful." True to his word Sam provided Alex with three months' supply of breast enlargement cream which Alex began to apply immediately. Twice daily he massaged the cream into the soft tissue of his mammary glands which were fairly well defined before he started. After four weeks it was possible to see a definite enlargement and after two months his breasts were well enough developed to need support. One evening Sir Rupert paid his usual visit to Alex's room. He was dressed in the silk smoking jacket that he'd begun to wear for their evening trysts. Alex was in his underwear and a beautiful pink satin and lace negligee which his father had bought to replace his old bathrobe. "Hello. How is the beautiful Alexandra this evening?" He asked. "Hello, Daddy." Alex raised his arms and put them around his father's neck and Sir Rupert's arms encircled Alex's waist. They kissed passionately, mashing their lips together and sucking each other's tongues. The sash on Sir Rupert's robe, which had only been loosely tied, had come undone, and the robe had fallen open to reveal his naked body and his rearing cock. Alex pressed his hips against his father's stiff member and gyrated his own hardness on to it. "Ah, Daddy, I do love it when you kiss me like that," Alex breathlessly said when their mouths parted. Sir Rupert's hands had found their way into Alex's panties. His left hand kneaded Alex's taught buttocks and his right began to stroke his hardness. Alexander's hands found his father's cock and his fingers, which could only just encircled the thick weapon, began to masturbate him, one small hand above the other along the impressive length. Again their lips met and they hungrily kissed as they slowly brought pleasure to each other, by wanking their respective cocks. "Daddy would you mind if I did something for you?" "Of course not, what do you want to do?" "This" Alex slid to his knees still holding Sir Rupert's impressive cock and kissed the head. Then opening his perfect mouth he sucked the head in. Sir Rupert groaned in pleasure and held his son's head between his hands. Gradually he began to move his hips forward and back as the tension began to rise. Alex struggled to keep the huge weapon in his mouth and masturbate it at the same time. His previous schoolboy experience of fellatio had not prepared him for such an enormous penis but he persevered and was finally rewarded when his father let out a loud roar and filled his mouth with spunk. Alex swallowed frantically, determined to lose not a drop of his daddy's precious liquid. Later, as they lay together on Alex's bed basking in post coital euphoria, Alex asked, "Daddy, will you buy me a bra?" "Of course I will, but why do you need one?" For answer Alex opened his negligee and lifted his camisole up to expose his budding tits. "Oh my God! They're beautiful." Sir Rupert marvelled, gazing in wonder at his son's breasts. He lent forward and kissed one of the boy's prominent nipples, before turning his attention to the other, sucking and nibbling each of them as if they were delicat