Mother's Birthday Present free porn video

Mother's Birthday Present By Bobbi Gold My name is Robert Gold. My mother calls me Bobby. In my mind, I like to think of it as Bobbi. I am 17 years old. I have been reading stories on Fictionmania since I was 12. I know the name of the site has the word FICTION in it, but it sounds like a lot of the stories on here are true, or at least partly true. Obviously the ones about magic and spells are not true, but some of the other ones, especially about girlfriends or wives or mothers doing feminine things to their boyfriends or husbands or sons, do sound true. At least, I would like to think they are. I especially like the stories about mothers making their sons feminine, or at least, letting them be feminine. I also like the stories where the mother teases and even flirts a little with the son. I mean, not to actually do anything, but just to play with the possibility that something inappropriate could happen. Or, she does something that is making him really aroused, but acts like she is oblivious. Like helping him to get really clean in the bath tub, or putting lotion on his legs. My favorites are where those three things - mother feminizing son, teasing / embarrassing him and flirting with him, are all combined. I really believe that a lot of boys would love to experience girlish things, if only they could do so without the fear of people making fun of them for being sissies. I think lots of boys try to act all tough and grown up around their mothers, because that is how they think they are supposed to act. But inside, there is still a little boy (or maybe a little girl) that wants Mommie to take care of them. It's like, when a mom crosses the street with her young child, she always holds his or her hand. When does that stop? When the boy pulls his hand away and says, "Mom, I'm not a baby." And the mom probably hates that, right? Because she wants to protect her little ones. But I think a lot of the time, the boy wants Mommie to hold his hand too. But he is afraid he will look like a sissy if he keeps letting her do it. Anyway, a lot of the stories on here have things happening that I really wish had happened to me. I love the stories where the mom and the son have a close relationship, and where it's almost like they have a secret, unspoken agreement where they can share girlish things. Like where the son is hanging around the mom when she puts her makeup on, and like, that is their time together. And then, sooner or later, the mom starts telling the son about what she is doing, explaining it as if this is information he might somehow be able to use. Like, the mom might finish putting on her makeup and say, "Honey, how do I look?" And the boy gets shy and says, "You look beautiful Mom." And then the mom says, "Did you notice how my lipstick goes with my eye shadow?" And the boy gets even more shy, but he is listening attentively to every word she says. The mom knows he is captivated. She might even know, somewhere deep down, that he is in love with her. I mean, we all know that all little boys are in love with their mothers. Some boys outgrow it, and some don't. But that is part of what makes these stories so exciting. It's not JUST about a mom telling her son about makeup. It's about him being in love with her, about him wanting to be LIKE her BECAUSE he is in love with her. It's what makes people feel nervous, but it's also what makes the stories exciting. And then, eventually, she asks him if he might like to try just a little bit. She does it in a way that makes him feel ok about it. Like she will say, "Come on Honey, it will be fun. And no one will know, it will be our little secret." I love that, especially the secret part. It's like she is telling him, "I know you want to do this, but you feel like you can't ask. So I will ask you instead. And I know you are worried that someone might find out, so I am telling you no one will. I will protect you." Just like she might have held his hand crossing the street. And then they have their own private secret, and I love that too. Sandy Brown is my favorite writer. She has lots of stories like that. Sometimes a scene like that is just the beginning, and things start going much further, one little step at a time; before you know it, the boy starts wearing panties and makeup and even a bra! I wish! I just read her most recent story, Mother and I Have A Super Bowl Party, where at the end, the mother actually has the son trying on a tampon! OMG!! And all that starting from losing a bet where she would paint his nails. I loved that story, because even though the ending with the tampon was a little outrageous, most of it was totally believable. Sometimes she has the mom embarrass the boy in public, like she will try to get him to try on a lipstick at the cosmetics counter, and he is mortified. But for some reason I can't really explain, I love that too. I mean, I totally identify with the boy, and you would think I would feel bad for him being embarrassed, but I don't. Because I get the feeling that even though he is embarrassed, he likes it at the same time. That is something I really can't explain. Why would someone LIKE to be embarrassed like that? And yet, if you said to me, "Would you say yes or no if I told you your mom could take you to a fancy depart store, and try to get you to try on some lipstick, right there at the cosmetics counter?" I know it would be totally embarrassing, but I would say yes! My favorite story of all time is Mother's Moon Drops, by Sandy. I think I like it best because Sandy said it was a true story, and well, I could have seen something like that happening to me. Even the embarrassing part, where the mom makes him tell the girl working at the drug store that he had to buy a new lipstick for his mom because he took hers and tried it on without asking her, was very exciting. Actually, and here's the part I don't really get, in some ways, that was the MOST exciting part. Some of the people who wrote reviews said that things like that DID happen to them, and other people said they had WISHED they had a mom like Sandy's mom. And I guess that is more the category I am in. Because up until very recently, nothing really happened to me at all. And the thing that happened to me, the thing I am about to tell you about, was really NOT a big deal, even compared to Mother's Moon Drops, which itself has a lot less happening than lots of the other stories. So, the reader should know, the story I am telling was not something exciting, like Mother taking me shopping for a bra, or taking me to a salon, or even signing me up for ballet lessons with all the girls. But what I am about to tell you about really DID happen, and to ME, it was a HUGE deal. Actually, it JUST happened, and I have not been able to stop thinking about it since it happened, and that is why I am writing this. Maybe once I write this I will stop obsessing over it! So, here is what happened. I can tell you in one sentence. Ready? I bought my mother a lipstick. That's it. That's the whole story. No big deal, right? Well, I can tell you that in MY life, where I never had my mother explain how she put her makeup on, and never offered to put just a little mascara on me because it would make my eyes pop, never had my mom put me in clothes like capris and knit tops that were clearly girlish but still could have technically been worn by a boy, never had my mom put nail polish on my toes, let alone my fingers, never had my mom pierce my ears, or tweeze my eyebrows, or get my hair done in a pixie style at a salon, never had my mom do anything REMOTELY feminine to me, or even share feminine things with me, like looking at fashion magazines together, or asking me what I thought about her outfits, well, buying my mother a lipstick, out of the blue, WAS a big deal. A huge deal. Just like Sandy in Moon Drops (and maybe like a lot of readers) I had started trying Mom's things on when I was a very little boy, maybe four or five. I cannot explain why I did it, but it was a very strong compulsion. Of course they were comically big for me, but as soon as I put her things on, I had this wonderful feeling of both calm and excitement. Even at that very young age, I somehow knew that what I was doing was both wrong (not permitted) but 'right'. I did this secretly for a few years, until I was six or seven. I assume that at that age, I was leaving traces of my dressing, but Mother never said a word. Did she know? To this day, I do not know. All I can think is that if she knew, maybe she was hoping it was a phase that would pass, and if she did not know, it was because she did not want to know, and so was ignoring the clues. Anyway, as I said, the phase did pass. It wasn't like I made a conscious decision, I just stopped doing it. And for a few years I was just like any normal boy. Well, mostly. I mean, I did notice what my mother wore, and her makeup, and when I looked at the girls in my class, there were certain girls I had crushes on and stuff, but I also noticed what they wore and how they did their hair. But I didn't consciously think, "Oh, Mary Ellen has the cutest dress. I wish I had a dress like that." Still, I always noticed more than what I thought was normal for a boy. But then, when I turned twelve, and started reaching puberty, things changed again. Once again, I found myself sneaking into my mother's things. When no one was home, I would try on her bra and panties, and put on a house dress. And then I would sit at her vanity and try her makeup on. I imagined that I was her. The difference between then and when I was four was, now I was sexually turned on by what I was doing. In fact, I was sexually turned on all the time. I know that is true for most boys going through puberty, but the difference was WHAT was turning me on. I mean, we would all be out to dinner, and Mother would sit there at the table after the meal, re-applying her lipstick, and I would be so turned on that I would excuse myself and to the restroom, and right there in the restaurant, I would relieve myself. And yes, when I saw her putting her lipstick on, I imagined that she knew I was getting turned on, that it turned HER on to be turning me on, and that as soon as we were alone, she would be putting her lipstick on ME. I walked around in a semi-permanent state of erection; when I went to sleep at night, I would imagine just the kind of things that Sandy Brown writes about, Mother gradually turning me into her sweet little sissy, all the while telling me excuses as to why it was ok, that rock musicians wore makeup, and football players wore earrings. That my lips looked chapped and we had no chap stick but that her lipstick had these wonderful emollients that make my lips feel good, and that it was just the two of us at home, I should let her help me put some on. And every night, and every morning would end the same way, with that moment that Mother applied her lipstick to me happening at exactly the time I had a crashing orgasm. I really worried that I would get caught. And unlike the stories on FM, I was not confident AT ALL that Mother would be ok with it. No, I had no reason to think that she would be anything other than freaked out. And Mother being freaked out that her son was wearing her things was definitely NOT the kind of embarrassment I was fantasizing about. What saved me was the internet. Once I learned how to surf the web, and once I had the courage to type in a few key search words, I discovered a whole world, including, most importantly, Fictionmania. (I remember reading a story by Sandy called A Tale of Two Sissies, about an older sissy who was with a younger sissy, telling her what it was like before the days of the internet. How alone she felt, like maybe she was the only one in the world out there like that. OMG, that must have been a really horrible, lonely feeling.) Anyway, once I started reading Fictionmania, I had a new outlet for my fantasies. It was a lot easier to read stories online than it was to be secretly dressing in my mother's clothes. No, it was not as exciting, but it was a lot safer, and if the fantasy ended in an orgasm, it really didn't matter that much. And that is what I have been doing for the past few years. Living a normal life on the outside, but having a secret fantasy life on the inside. One of Sandy's stories introduced me to Andrej Pejic. Once I discovered that there was this male model out there, not much older than me, who was as beautiful as any woman, who modeled bridal gowns on the runway and even appeared in ads for bras, he became the focus of my fantasy life. If Andrej could do it, then it was possible for me, too. Like Andrej, I didn't have to become a girl to be beautiful and wear dresses and makeup. In fact, part of what made Andrej so attractive was that he was NOT becoming a girl. Not only did he have his boy part, but he was always showing his completely flat chest. I think it was seeing that totally male chest juxtaposed with that gorgeous, gorgeously made up face, that was so exciting. Of course, for a boy who was afraid to even have a conversation with his mother about HER makeup, let alone ME wearing any, it really was just a wild fantasy. And I think that was how the seed was planted. I was getting tired of living two lives, one in my head and one in real life. On the other hand, I was afraid to take anything but the smallest step. And somehow, the idea came into my head that that first, small step of bringing these two worlds together, my real life and the one going on inside my head, would be to buy my mother a lipstick for her birthday. It was a small, innocent step, but a little outrageous at the same time. Because when I thought about it, I did not know one boy, EVER, who bought his mother a lipstick. Once I started thinking about it, I couldn't stop. Before I decided to actually go ahead with my birthday gift idea, I spent a lot of time thinking about whether I should actually do it. The bottom line was, I wanted to do it so much that I was worried that my desire, and my fantasy of how that would all go, was clouding my judgment about what would actually happen. As I said, my mother and I had never really shared things like this before. Would she think it was totally bizarre that her 17 year old son would go out and buy her lipstick? For some reason, lipstick was completely different than buying your other, say, perfume. The thing about lipstick is, it is both completely feminine, and INTIMATE. The color, the feel, the scent, even the look of the tube, is highly personal. When a woman takes out her lipstick, and twists it so that the lipstick rises out of the tube, looking like we-all-know-what, and then slowly, sensually applies it to her lips, well, we can all make believe that it is not, but we all know that it is a moment suffused with eroticism. A son buying something like that for his mother? Well, there is a reason why that is not on the list of typical gifts. While I was deciding whether I had the nerve to actually do it, I spent a lot of time researching the subject. You know, when you think about buying a certain type of car, and you never even noticed it before but all of a sudden you see it everywhere, well the same thing happened to me with lipstick. I started seeing lipstick everywhere - on TV commercials, in the newspaper, on women walking down the street. I was becoming obsessed. And I realized at some point that the idea of buying lipstick as a present for my mother had also become a way for me to indulge my growing obsession. I mean, did I really need to know everything there was to know about lipstick just to buy my mother a gift? I chose not to think about it. I found myself spending lots of time online, but instead of my usual fare of reading Fictionmania, I was reading makeup ads and blogs devoted specifically to lipstick. I was amazed to see that there were lots and lots of women out there who seemed to be as obsessed with lipstick as I was becoming. Although most of the blogs seemed to be written by women for women, I did wonder how many of the readers were boys like me. My next stop was a walk from my house down the block into town to our local Rite Aid store, a large drug store with a big, well-lit cosmetics section. Each brand section had large photos of young, gorgeous, heavily but perfectly made up models. I glanced around a bit to see if there was anyone I knew around, and then slowly walked down the aisle. Even this small act felt somehow subversive. I mean, there was nothing in this aisle but makeup, and there was no reason why a boy would be there. What if someone saw me and asked what I was doing there? "I am buying a lipstick for my Mommie," sounds only slightly less sissyish than "I am buying a lipstick for myself." Anyway, I was not there to buy a lipstick. I thought the rows and rows of lipsticks, especially the Revlon, looked yummy, but my plan was to buy my mother a very high end lipstick at a fancy department store. This trip was really just for reconnaissance. One thing that caught my eye was the section for teens. Although the nicer lipsticks they had were not nice enough for Mother, I found myself very attracted to this even less expensive section. I loved the idea of young teen girls getting to buy and wear makeup for the very first time, not really knowing what they were doing, experimenting, learning as they went. Everything in this section was more colorful, glossy and full of glitter. I loved the Wet and Wild lip glosses. If had ever been tempted to buy something for myself, it was right then and there. But I did not have the courage, and I moved on. I moved on to the magazine aisle, and found myself looking at some of the fashion magazines. For some reason, like the teen makeup, the less upscale mags were more interesting. I mean, I'm sure the fashions in Vogue were to die for, but I was more entranced by the Glamour which advertised "Best Makeup Looks for Spring! Fabulous Lips!" I took a gulp and picked up a Glamour and Cosmo off the rack and walked to the register. If I did not have the guts to buy a magazine, how would I ever buy a lipstick? I thought about buying some other items to make my choice of magazines less obvious, but at that point, my heart was beating so fast, I just wanted to get out of there. See, this is what I meant by my story being so much less than a lot of what is written here. No, I was not going to school in a dress. No, my mother was not taking me bra shopping. All I was doing was buying a couple of magazines, but to me, it was SO exciting. There was a pretty teenaged girl at checkout. She looked to be about my age. Fortunately I did not know her. As she scanned the magazines with her scanner, she looked up at me and smiled. I mumbled, "For my girlfriend" and her face brightened. She said, "Wow, what a good boyfriend! Most boys your age would be too embarrassed to be buying these magazines. You know, if you want to REALLY be a good boyfriend, you should read them! There is lots of helpful info in there that will help you understand us ladies!" I smiled back and said, "Ok, I will! Anyway, I wanted to know about this Spring's new makeup looks!" That was pretty daring of me, but I found this whole conversation to be so exciting. She looked at me and said, "Pastels are in." She paused and then said, "You know, if you really wanted to score points, you could buy her a lipstick. I could take you back there and help you if you wanted." Omg, I couldn't believe this. Even though I wanted to get my Mother an expensive lipstick, I was tempted to take the girl up on her offer. I could keep this lipstick for myself. I paused for a moment and said, "That's really nice of you. I will think about it. Maybe I will come back and take you up on your offer." She smiled again and said, "You know, you are very cute, and clearly a good bf. If things don't work out with your girlfriend, give me a call!" I blushed. I was not used to having a girl flirt with me like this. I thanked her and said I definitely would. I started walking out and she called after me "You forgot your magazines!" I was flustered, and walked back sheepishly and picked them up. She was really smiling; she clearly enjoyed the fact that she could embarrass me like that. I walked home with my stash of magazines, feeling all flushed from my encounter with the girl in the drugstore. I went to my bedroom, shut the door, got undressed, got under my cover, and opened the Glamour. The first lipstick ad was only a few pages in. That was as far as I got before I closed my eyes, imagined me and Mother, and made a mess in my bed. I had recently turned 17, and so had graduated from Learner's Permit to full license. My plan was to drive to a larger town about 15 minutes away which had an upscale, enclosed mall with both a Saks and Nordstrom's. Mother's birthday was only a week away, and I was getting ready for my purchase. I knew that the large cosmetics areas in both stores were divided by brand, each with their own separate counters. So, I knew that before I went, I should probably pick the brand first. I knew Mother used a lot of Estee Lauder. They are beautiful, classic lipsticks. But after a lot of research, I decided on Chanel. Of all the brands, it just seemed the most classic, luxurious and upscale. I knew that Mother had a Chanel purse that a group of her friends had chipped in and gotten her for an earlier birthday. I know it was incredibly expensive, and one of her most prized possessions. Mother did not use Chanel lipstick because it was so expensive. I thought she would be thrilled to have a Chanel lipstick that she could take out of her Chanel bag and put on. I was excited! I drove to the mall and parked. I walked inside, and decided to try Saks first. The whole first floor was basically devoted to ladies' purses and cosmetics; it was really overwhelming. This was definitely not Rite Aid! I spotted the Chanel counter. It was more than a counter; it was really a whole separate area, almost like a little store within a store. There were a variety of people working there, including a young, feminine looking man and a very well made up middle aged woman. I really did not want to be helped by the guy; I hoped the woman would help me. I tried to make eye contact with her, and she came over and smiled and said, "Hello young man. May I help you?" I could not believe how nervous I was! This was the moment I had been thinking about for weeks! Finally, in a very soft voice, I said, "Yes, thank you. I would like to buy a lipstick. For my mother. For her birthday." The woman smiled again and said, "Well aren't you the sweetest thing! I think you are the first boy I have ever had coming in to buy his mother a lipstick! I have had husbands buying for wives, but never a boy buying for his mommie!" She continued, "Do you have any idea what your mom likes? There are lots of choices!" I said, "I am not too sure about the color, but I was thinking about maybe also getting her a lip liner and some lip gloss as well." The woman raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Oh, my, it sounds like someone has been doing their homework! Good for you! This will be fun! We will pick out something your mother is going to love! Now, what is your mother's skin tone like? Is it similar to yours?" I was blushing furiously. I said, "Yes, we have similar skin tone." The woman said, "Well, that's convenient, that will make our job a lot easier. We will just find a color that looks good on you, and then it will be good for her!" There was a part of my that had the uneasy feeling that maybe she thought I was lying, that it was really for me and I was making up the whole story about my mother. Just as I was thinking that, she leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner and whispered, "It IS for your mother, right? I mean, Honey, you know, if it's for you, that's perfectly ok! I am still happy to help you!" I croaked, "No, no, it really is for my mom." She replied, "OK Sweetie, whatever you say!" I was not sure she believed me, but I guess it really didn't matter. She was super nice, and was just the way I hoped my mom would be if she thought I wanted to get a lipstick for myself. The woman asked me whether my mom usually wore a rich color or a paler color; whether she wore something that was more matte or glossy; whether she wore lots of makeup or just a little; she asked me questions about my mom's hair color and eye color. She explained that lots of women wear a different shade for spring and summer than for fall and winter. After all of these questions she said, "OK, Let's try the Rouge Coco line. I love the colors, and it feels marvelous going on. And it's pretty long-lasting." Then she said, "Lipstick always looks different in the tube than on your skin. So, let's try a little on the back of your hand ok? That will give us a better idea of what it looks like." OMG, she was going to put the lipstick on my hand! She gently placed my hand on the counter, and took out one lipstick at a time and painted a little mark on my hand. The colors she chose ranged from a bright pink ("Magnolia") to mauve ("Mademoiselle") to almost a brown ("Superstition"). The whole process seemed so erotic to me. As I sat there, I couldn't help thinking of the stories I read where the boy has his mother put the lipstick on him at the counter. I knew this wasn't the same thing, but it was as close as I had ever come, and, given that the lady had just asked whether it was really for me, it did not seem that far away! Did I want her to ask me if I wanted to try it? OMG, no! Yes! No! Oh, I was so full of emotion, and so confused! Finally, we chose the shade in the middle, Mademoiselle. The woman said, "OK, I think this is a great choice. It's subtle and will go with almost anything. Now, let's pick a lip liner. Or as they say at Chanel, Le Crayon Levres Precision Lip Definer. It sounds like you already know this, but we should pick a shade that is very close to the lipstick color, but is just the tiniest bit darker. That's easy because Chanel makes the lip liner shades with their lipstick colors in mind. See, let's try this." And then she took out a color called Bois de Rose, and drew a little line next to the lipstick color. It looked like it went perfectly. Finally, she picked out a lip gloss that looked very pink in the tube, but she explained that when it went on, there was much less color. The line was called Glossimer, and the shade was Scintillance. I loved these names! And then, what I had been thinking about, happened. She very quietly said to me, "Would you like to try a little? Just so you can see there is very little color?" I swallowed. I became aware of how hard my boy part was. I did not say anything for a few seconds. I was not sure what to say. Finally I looked at her kind face and said, "It is really, really nice of you to offer. It means a lot to me." I just let the words hang there for a few seconds. And I said, "I don't think so. At least, not today." The woman smiled and said, "OK, Sweetie, you comeback any time, ok? I would be happy to help you." This lady was so nice I thought I was going to cry. It was not a fantasy, it was real life, but she was just how I imagined she would be. She took my lipstick, and my lip liner, and my lip gloss, and made a pretty package for me, all wrapped up with a pretty ribbon. She said, "Your mother is just going to love this. She is lucky to have a special son like you." Then she said, "Would you like me to clean your hand off, or would you like to leave it on for a while?" I smiled and said, "I am going home and would not want my mom to suspect what I have been up to, so I'd better take it off." She gave me a wipe, and then rang me up. I have to say, I knew Chanel was expensive, but I was still shocked at the bill! It was over $100 for all three items. I walked out of the store in a daze. I felt like I was suffering from sensory overload. I really could not believe what had just happened. I had come very close to actually trying on a lip gloss at the Chanel counter! Even though all I really did was buy my mother a birthday gift, I felt like I had crossed some huge line. My fantasies were no longer just online, or in my head. I had actually gone to a store and had a long conversation about lipsticks with the sales lady. And it was totally clear to her that I knew way more about the subject than a normal boy. And she was fine with it! I couldn't help thinking about whether I would go back, and not for Mother.... I got ran up to my bedroom, got on to my bed, and once again, found release. Tuesday morning was Mother's birthday. I woke up, got ready for school, and came downstairs for breakfast. I was very nervous about giving her the gift. I had spent a lot of money, and I really hoped she liked it. But more than that, I was nervous that she would think it was a strange gift for a son to give his mother. But I kept asking myself, if that was what I was worried about, why did I do it? Why didn't I just get her a scarf or something? Why did I get her something that I thought might give her doubts? Was it because I WANTED her to have doubts? Did I want her to think that maybe there was more to the present than met the eye? Maybe. Mother opened the present. When it was unwrapped, she definitely looked surprised. But I could tell that she also loved it. She said, "Oh my God, Chanel! Bobby, this must have cost a fortune! And, how did you ever do this? The shade looks perfect! How did you know?" I said, "Well, the lady at the counter asked me about your skin tone, and I said it was very similar to mine. And then she tried a bunch of shades on my hand!" I was embarrassed to tell her that, but also dying to! She looked at me in surprise and said, "Oh, my, you did it just like a lady would! That must have taken guts! Good for you!" But I could tell she was processing all of this information. Mother continued unwrapping her gift. She said, "And lip liner and lip gloss too! Wow, you really went for it! I know you have school, but I am going to try it on right now! Well, at least the lipstick. Can you wait a minute?" Mother took out the lipstick, walked over to a mirror and applied it. Just like at the store, I felt like I was living my fantasy. But this was even more intense. She looked at herself in the mirror and said, "Oh, this is perfect! You did a great job! And you know what the best part is? I would never buy Chanel for myself, it's too expensive. So this really is a special gift! Thank you, Honey!" And then she came over and gave me a hug and a kiss. As I walked out the door, Mother said, "My girlfriends are taking me out to lunch today. I can't wait to show them my birthday present! And wait til I tell them that YOU bought it for me! They are going to be so impressed! My son, buying me Chanel lipstick! I'll bet I am the only one who will be able to say that!" I said, "Oh, Mom, I hope you don't embarrass me. I uh, wouldn't want anyone thinking, um, you know, that I was like a sissy or something." Mother looked at me and said, "Oh, don't be silly. I think it was the sweetest thing. Anyway, I don't think that buying lipstick for your mother makes you a sissy. It just makes you special!" I walked out the door, my heart beating a mile a minute. All I wanted to do was go back up to my room and relieve myself. I thought it would be the only way I could calm down. But I knew that I couldn't. I headed off to school, and wondered whether this was the end of my adventure, or just the beginning.