Awkward Moments
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My Awkward Moment free porn video
"You know, James," Mother started her conversation, "that wearing girl's
panties does not make a person a girl."
"I know, Mother!"
"So, why do you do it? I mean, did I do something wrong? Are you deviant
because you didn't have a male role model around? There must have been
something that I did to make you turn out this way."
"I'm not any way, Mother. It's just me! I'm comfortable wearing these
clothes. It doesn't hurt anybody. Nobody is at fault. It just makes me
feel 'right.'"
"Deuteronomy 22:5 A woman must not wear men's clothing, nor a man wear
women's clothing for the Lord your God detests anyone who does this."
"I don't need a sermon, or a preacher, or some male role model, Mother.
Can't you just let it go? I'm sorry that you found my things. I didn't
want that to happen. It's really no big deal. I'm sure God and I can
come up with some kind of compromise."
I went to my room, finding that Mother had dumped my hidden panties and
bras on my bed. I don't understand why she thinks this is deviant. And I
certainly don't need her preaching to me about God's laws. She's
divorced, for heaven's sake. I was angry that she invaded my privacy. I
closed and locked my door, stripped down to my panties and sat on my
bed, crying lightly. I was hoping to never have this conversation with
Mother. Now, I'm caught. There's no telling what she's going to do with
this information. You'd think that after 14 years, keeping this secret
hidden from her for so long, I'd be able to continue my false macho male
fa?ade for another few years then move to my own apartment and enjoy the
lifestyle of womanhood without fear of being caught.
I heard a light tapping on the door. "James," she said. "May I come in?"
"I'd rather be alone for a while, please."
I could hear her walking away from my door.
Mother serves dinner precisely at 6:00 p.m. every evening. She expects
me to be cleaned up a bit and not wearing sweaty clothes. I didn't
disappoint her because I did put on a nice pair of slacks and a tee-
shirt. We sat at the dinner table in silence. I don't know what I could
have said to comfort her, and I'm sure she felt the same. What do you
talk about when you find out your only son is a cross-dresser?
It's not like I'm some flaming homosexual or anything like that. The
panties I purchased aren't the g-string neon pink things. I wouldn't be
caught dead wearing anything like that. I actually prefer the low-cut
high waist cotton briefs. It doesn't hurt if they have a touch of lace
or maybe a pretty floral print. I wouldn't turn down a lacy waist band
but have to be careful that my shirt is tucked in as to not flash a bit
of feminine lingerie.
"I'll clean the kitchen, Mother," I told her after we sat in silence for
so long.
"Why? James. Because it's considered a woman's job? I don't want you
cleaning because you think it's a woman's job."
I looked at her like she was crazy. I've cleaned the kitchen and helped
her around the house for years and now she thinks I'm doing it because
it's a 'woman's job.' I chose not to respond to her remark. I picked up
the plates and carried them to the sink. I opened the refrigerator and
found a bottle of wine that Mother enjoys and poured her a glass. "Go
sit down and relax, Mother." I demanded. "I'll be with you in a few
minutes and we can talk about this."
Mother left the dining room with her glass of wine and went to the
living room to watch the news. She does this every night.
While I was cleaning the kitchen, Mother went to her room and changed
into a floral skirt and solid blouse, stockings, and a nice pair of
shoes. When I came from the kitchen to join her, I asked if she was
going out.
"Do you like this skirt?"
I told her I always thought she looked extremely fashionable in that
skirt.
"That is not what I meant, James, I mean, do you 'like' this skirt?
Would you wear it?"
"Mother, that is like totally inappropriate. Why are you asking me
questions like that? Yes, I'd wear it. I like the colors and the
pattern, and the length. If I were a girl, I'd definitely wear that
skirt."
"I've always liked this skirt myself. It makes me feel good inside.
Younger, and prettier. So you see, James, I do understand what you meant
when you told me about wearing women's underthings. I wear a half-slip
with this skirt that I think is just adorable." She lifted the skirt to
show me the slip she wore beneath the skirt. It was a faded vanilla,
cr?me colored with a lace trim and a feminine petticoat tulle material
under it, puffing out the skirt just a little.
I sat on the couch watching her as she spun around the living room a
little, making the skirt fly up a little. She looked down at her shoes.
"If I were going out, I'd wear a shoe with a heel. A little higher than
this. Your father and I used to go dancing, and I'd wear this skirt for
him. He loved to see me in the outfit. Boy, could he dance."
Mother hadn't talked of Father in a long time. I usually discouraged her
from talking about him because we were both left high and dry when he
walked away from the marriage. Mother always blamed herself, and I
always blamed me. He left when I was really young so it's silly to blame
myself, but that's just what kids do, I guess.
"I was hoping for a daughter next, and I would have given her this
skirt. I would have loved to see her in it, dancing with her father.
Bummer."
I don't know what made Mother reminisce like this but I didn't want to
stop her. She waltzed into the kitchen and refilled her wine glass. She
surprised me by handing me a glass of wine as well.
"I suppose I would like to see someone other than myself in this skirt.
Would you mind?" she asked as she handed me the glass of wine. I blushed
almost as red as the wine in my glass and shook my head in agreement.
She waltzed into her bedroom and came out a few moments later in a
pajama bottoms and matching top, with the half-slip and skirt in her
arms. "Do you have a top, or would you like to borrow one of mine.
I was embarrassed to tell her I had a leotard that would go well with
the skirt and slip and took the garments from her, walking hesitantly
into my bedroom.
I spent a few minutes changing out of my slacks and shirt, digging
through my bottom drawer for a black ? sleeve leotard I keep hidden
there. I left the bra and panties I was wearing on and stepped into my
leo. I looked at myself in my full length mirror, wondering how Mother
felt that I had a leotard hidden in my room as well. I guess since the
cat is out of the bag, I might as well confess and walk her through
this.
I stepped into the skirt and pulled it up. Fortunately, I don't have
hairy legs and I thought that looked pretty sexy. I then grabbed the
slip and pulled that up under the skirt. I don't know what it is about
tulle and lace that makes a girl feel feminine, as they itch like the
dickens, but I enjoy that feeling of fluffiness as I pulled the slip
high enough to just leave a peek of feminine lingerie just a bit lower
than the length of the skirt. I stuffed a couple of nylon panties in
each of the cups of my bra. That gives a pretty round bust line,
somewhat similar to girls my age. I hope I don't freak Mother out.
I opened the door and walked boldly into the living room, keeping my
chest high and head up. I wasn't about to walk out of that room with my
head down, as if I were embarrassed or something. No, I was happy with
the way I looked.
Mother just smiled at me. "How cute!"
"Let me do something with your hair, and with a touch of makeup, and
some shoes, we could go out. Maybe for some ice cream or something. Oh,
can we? Please!"
I asked Mother what she had in mind, but she just pulled me toward her
bedroom. She has a vanity full of makeup and perfumes, and I've even
seen a wig in her closet, though I don't go in there too often.
She sat me at her vanity and handed me a bottle of nail polish. A pretty
mild cherry red. I started shaking the bottle.
"How'd you know to do that?" she asked.
I'd seen her do it a thousand times before. It just seemed only natural.
I started painting my nails. Mother came out of her walk-in closet with
a wig I'd seen but never on her. She opened one of her dresser drawers
and pulled out a wig cap, explaining to me that I'd need to wear this
covering my own hair and it makes the wig look more natural. I let her
do whatever she was going to do while I worked on my fingernails.
Sometimes I'd have to look up while she was working on my eye shadow or
lips, but I honestly didn't care. And I told her so.
"Mother, I hate to say so, but this feels so right, like I should have
been sitting here a long time ago. I hope you're not angry."
"I love the smell of nail polish," was Mother's response.
I think she liked having a little makeup doll, talking to me like I was
her daughter. We'd talked about the house, or school stuff, but never
about women's fashions, or nail polish colors. She complemented me on
the breasts I created with my panties. "I like the low-cut back of your
leotard, James. You look kind of sexy like that."
She asked me about my sexual preference, about whether I was trying to
get the attention of some boys or something. I just said no. I am just
happy about dressing right this evening. It's weird to tell your Mother
that you feel correct now and that all the other time was just wrong. I
mean, I wasn't unhappy or anything like that. Just wrong. Men wear
pants, and women wear panties. I said that to her and she just smiled
and nodded her head at me.
"I know what you mean," she told me. "I know I've wanted a man here and
about taking charge and taking care of all the problems of my little
world, and allow me do the cleaning and cooking and laundry. I've never
minded doing those things myself. Maybe I'm a bit old fashioned," Mother
explained.
"I don't think so, Mother. I understand exactly what you mean. And you
haven't done anything wrong in raising me. I am who I am, and so what if
I like the more feminine kind of lifestyle. Let's go out and get some
ice cream. Maybe do a little window shopping. I could use something a
little more appropriate to sleep in if you don't mind."
We laughed as Mother finished up the makeup on my face. I blew on the
nail polish so it would dry a little quicker. Mother grabbed her purse
and I found a pair of her shoes that matched with the leotard. Mother
handed me a colorful scarf which I tied around my neck. Funny that I've
never done that before, but have admired that look on girls in my
classes. This was going to be fun!
Nadine
- 10.02.2021
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