Mentor
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The Mentor Part 2 free porn video
The Mentor Part 2
By Cheryl Lynn
Based on comments, here is the final part of the story and not one for
the sweet sentimental reader. This is a work of fiction and all the
usual disclaimers apply. May be downloaded for personal use only, any
other use must have author's permission. Comments may be sent to
[email protected].
The Mentor Part 2
I watched as my mother took her bagged items, gave me a quick stare and
left the mini mart. I don't think I took a single breath the whole time
she was in the store. It wasn't until Sylvia put the packs of Salem and
More's on the counter that I was able to move. I looked up at her and
could only stutter, "Sh....she...di...didn't recognize....me."
"Well hun you've changed a might since she saw you last. When you
finish at John's come back here," she answered smiling.
Damn, I hated that smile. It gives me the creeps. To think when I
first met her I thought she was enchanting. I know better now. She's
the devil incarnate. She's destroying what I am or rather was. Now I'm
becoming a younger version of her. She's made me dress like she does.
She's keeping by hair styled and grey streaked like hers. Thanks to
her I have to wear prescription glasses just like hers. I even live at
her house and have to sleep with her.
There is nothing sexual about sleeping with an old woman, wearing a
sleep mask with green goop slathered on her face. There is nothing
about her that comes close to appealing to me now. Not even the fact
that we smoke the same More 120's. Chain smoking cigarettes for six
months and having to act and dress the way I do has pretty much killed
my smoking fetish. All I want now is out. I want to be Joseph Markus
Smith again not "hun" or "Sugar."
Yeah Sugar that's what John calls me. He's another sore point. Sylvia
makes me cook and clean for him every day. Since I graduated three
months ago, I spend every day from 7 a.m. until 5:30 p.m. with that old
geezer. With each passing day he gets more and more personal with me.
At first it was just giving him kisses on the cheek to prove that I kept
lipstick on but now I have to French him when I arrive to fix his
breakfast and when I leave each night. While he is sticking his foul
tasting tongue into my mouth his hands are fondling my back and ass.
That's just plain queer and it's disgusting but I have no choice. He is
much stronger than me and Sylvia seems to be enjoying my humiliation.
When I complain about his pawing and kissing all she says is that if I
smoke More's like a woman then I should be treated like one.
It's a relief of sorts when I leave his apartment to go back to
Sylvia's. I've gotten use to people staring at my exaggerated swishing
as I make my way puffing on my cig to John's or Sylvia's but I hate it.
I don't get much relief at her place either. When I get there I first
have to tidy up around the house then it's an evening watching stupid
women's shows on television sitting beside her on the couch. She was
right about one thing. I have developed a taste for beer. We usually
go through two six packs each night. I guess all that beer is
responsible for the jelly roll of fat that overhangs my girdle top.
I would run away but I don't have any money and no place to run to. A
few dozen times I thought about going to my mother and begging her
forgiveness. She's a strict Catholic and wouldn't abide living with a
gay son. She made that very clear those many months ago when she caught
me wearing lipstick and wanting my ears pierced. Hell, she didn't even
recognize me today. So that's out as she'd never forgive me showing up
dressed and looking like I do. There's nothing for it but to go back
to John's and finish my chores.
I mince out of the store and look up. Sure enough, there he is staring
out his third story open window watching me. A shudder runs up and down
my spine but I ignore it as I exhale a plume of grey smoke into the air.
There are a few people walking about but they are use to seeing me and
don't stare anymore. Even the two old reprobates hanging out at the
store drinking beer from paper bags don't bother to harass me anymore.
If it weren't for my clothing and heavy makeup strangers wouldn't give
me a second thought. I'm accepted as a girl by everyone except those
that knew me before. Thanks to Sylvia's intense training I even sit to
pee and wipe without thinking twice.
John's door is open and he's sitting at the table by the window smoking,
a beer off to the side and watching a ball game. He's wearing the same
old kaki slacks and dirty undershirt. His wardrobe consists of four
pairs of those kaki slacks and two worn long sleeved felt shirts. His
smile of yellow-brown teeth sends another shiver up my spine. I give
him his Salem's and in about an hour I have his place cleaned and head
back to the store. When I get there she takes me into the back office.
"Hun, I got something for you in the mail today. Take off your blouse
and bra. You're just going to love these," she said flashing me that
smile.
Unbuttoning those small pearl buttons on my blouse and unhooking my bra
came easily as I was use to them and my two inch long lacquered nails.
I was curious as to why she wanted me to undress but again by now I knew
better than to argue. My curiosity changed to apprehension as she glued
realistic C-cup breasts on my chest. They had half inch dark brown
button nipples, felt cool to the touch but the gel filling quickly
warmed. When I moved they moved with a life of their own and I could
feel their weight pulling at my chest.
"Fantastic, I've wanted to get rid of those pads you've been using for
ages. With that flat front and those babies no one should question that
you're a woman. How do they feel Sugar?" she said.
"Horrible and feel like they're going to rip my skin off," I replied.
"Get use to them hun they're all yours. That glue should keep them on
for about a month. As far as the pulling goes, that's why we girls wear
bras. Get back over to John's and make his supper. It's almost
quitting time and I want you back by then. I have another surprise I
want to give you this evening, so come meet me here," she answered
smiling.
It was that same smile that she used whenever she planned on doing
something humiliating to me. By the time we got back to her place, I
was the possessor of a belly ring. When we entered the tattoo parlor I
was afraid she was going to have me marked for life. I was almost
relived when all she had done to me was that belly piercing. A gold
ball sat just above my navel and covering my navel was a multi-colored
butterfly. Yes, I was embarrassed but at least it wasn't something
permanent.
The next morning I left the house wearing skin tight white Capri's
covered in a bright floral print, a bright red tube top and red three
inch wedge sandals. After my morning French kiss, John holding my
shoulders, stood back and admired my new jewelry.
"Oh Sugar that's marvelous and so pretty on you," he said pulling me
into a tight hug and another sloppy wet kiss.
He was all over me while I prepared breakfast. Yes, he discovered my
other new assets and couldn't keep his hands off them. He stood behind
me, his fat stomach pressed tightly against my back squeezing my tits
through my top and bra while I whisked the eggs into a froth. I
couldn't fight him so took my anger out on those poor eggs. As he was
having his fun I was happy that my tits were silicon otherwise I would
be in real pain.
Thankfully he let me be as I did my cleaning up after breakfast. I
didn't see him for a couple of hours while I washed and dried his
clothing in the laundromat downstairs. I spent the rest of the
afternoon ironing and general cleaning. Other than him giving my ass a
pinch or light slap as I passed by he left me alone. When we parted for
the night, his kiss seemed to linger a lot longer than usual. I stopped
long enough to fix my smeared lipstick before heading back to Sylvia's
to clean up and start our dinner.
She seemed to be in a good mood after working her twelve hour shift. We
watched a re-run of "Love Story," drank beer and smoked our More 120's
until bed time. By now I was use to having my hair in curlers, goop
smeared on my face and sleeping next to the snoring old woman. I closed
my eyes ready for sleep when all of a sudden I was fully awake. It was
the realization that I hadn't had an erotic thought in months and hadn't
masturbated once since moving in with Sylvia. I reached down to my
groin but there was little feeling coming from my dick. My dick was
shoved between my legs and my balls stuck up inside me covered by the
satin gusset of my girdle. The only time I wasn't in a girdle was in
the bath or sitting on the commode. I rubbed down there but gave up
after a few minutes, nothing. I vowed I would check out my equipment in
the morning. Sleep didn't come easy and wasn't refreshing.
In the morning as I sat on the toilet, I tried jerking off but I
couldn't picture anything in my mind to bring me to conclusion. I
thought of smoking More's, then Virginia Slims and other feminine brands
that use to get me hard but nothing. I then thought about one of the
pretty girls from school but picturing her in her lingerie did nothing
to help. Over the past months I had seen Sylvia naked more times than I
wanted. There is nothing sexy about a cellulite pock marked fat ass and
sagging wrinkled breasts. I had also been exposed to a lot of girls and
women in various stages of undress either in the lady's restroom or in
the changing rooms. I guessed that all that exposure had dulled my
erotic senses. I had a good woodie but that's about all I achieved.
"What a way to start a Saturday," I thought giving up.
I left John's around noon as was my custom to go see Sylvia. Saturday
afternoon and Sunday were her only times off work. She used Saturday
afternoon to take me somewhere. We'd hop on the bus and take in a
movie, always some chick flick, window shop or go somewhere that older
ladies frequent. You know places like tea rooms, art museums and such.
This Saturday was different. She took me back to the thrift store.
"I've invited John to come over for supper tomorrow night and I wanted
to get you something special to wear," she said leading me over to the
dress department.
"What? Why did you invite HIM over? I see enough of him every day," I
exclaimed in surprise.
"Well he is your boyfriend isn't he? I thought it would be a nice
jester if I invited him over. He doesn't get out much," she responded
calmly.
"He's not my boyfriend! I only go there because you make me!" I hissed
back.
"So what? The entire neighborhood thinks he's your beaux. Get use to
it. So stop your bitching," she angrily retorted.
When we left the store I had a black leather mini skirt, red satin
balloon sleeved blouse with a round neckline trimmed in three layers of
overlapping lace, black fishnet seamed hosiery and pair of four inch
stiletto heeled red patent leather open toed pumps. She also purchased
a satin push up bra with floral crystal bead work, matching waist chinch
and high cut nylon panties all in a fire engine red.
The skirt hugged my ass like a glove and short. How short was it you
ask, well if I wasn't real careful my panties would be on display. If I
was real careful my stocking tops didn't show. When I was fully dressed
and made up, I looked like a hooker. Thanks to my salt and pepper hair,
heavy makeup, old fashioned thick horn rimmed glasses and lavender
scented perfume I looked like an old hooker.
It took me awhile to manage the four inch pumps and adjust to the odd
sensation from wearing a skirt for the first time. The skirt wasn't the
only first for me. I wasn't wearing a girdle either. The panties held
my bits in a snug embrace but I didn't feel right down there. With the
short skirt I was actually afraid to be without my girdle. Another
problem that I didn't discover until later was my blouse. It was a full
cut and when I bent over to serve or pour something my top would open up
exposing my bra.
Sylvia was wearing a dress. I didn't even know she owned one. It was a
simple A-line in pink paisley print. As I stood gawking, she said, "You
like?"
"Yes, it's nice, I just never have seen you wearing a dress before," I
replied.
"Thanks and make sure you put on that organza apron before you finish
preparing dinner," she replied.
Yuk, I hated that apron. It was peach colored with tons of ruffles and
lace hemming tying in a big floppy bow. It was an apron some old woman
would wear at a tea party. I was busy finishing up when the door bell
rang. It was John holding a couple of bottles of wine. He slung his
arms around my waist, the bottles banging dangerously behind me as he
gave me a passionate French kiss. Fortunately Sylvia walked up before
he filled my mouth with his spit and the kiss kept short.
While they chatted I took the wine into the kitchen and checked on the
meal. I had prepared Cornish Game Hens and they were ready to serve.
John left me alone meaning he wasn't playing grab ass until after I had
cleaned up the supper dishes. Believe me I did my best not to join them
in the living room for as long as I could. My isolation ended when
Sylvia came to open the other bottle of wine and found me smoking.
She told me to put on a fresh thick coat of my vivid red lipstick and
bring in the wine. From her tone of voice and look I didn't have any
choice. I bent down to pour John a refill and noticed where he was
staring. With one hand holding the wine and the other my More 120, all
I could do was let him stare. I left with his glass only half filled to
where Sylvia was planning to sit in the chair next to hers. Instead
she directed me to go sit beside John over on the settee. I groaned
inwardly as I walked back to sit with him. I was sweeping my hands
across my bottom to sit when he pulled me into his broad lap. As I
settled into his lap my skirt road up to my crotch. My stocking tops,
garters and bare thigh were visible and Sylvia had a great beaver shot.
I grasped the hem and tried to pull it down without success. I was
sitting sideways on John's lap and his hand had already taken possession
of my bared thigh. I could hear Sylvia giggling as he pulled me into a
deep French kiss as his other hand slid around my waist. I was stuck,
pressed into his fat stomach with his hand rubbing my stocking and
flesh. As the kiss broke I could see out of the corner of my eye,
Sylvia getting up and leaving.
I spent a horrible and frightening two hours sitting on his lap. His
hands were rubbing all over me. He was kissing, actually sucking, on my
neck and ears. I cringed when he stuck his wet tongue into my ear then
gave me another deep kiss to the lips. Once the back of his hand
touched my groin and I froze. He mumbled something about not taking his
Viagra and brought his hand back up to my blouse covered breast.
Sylvia was only gone about thirty minutes. When she returned grinning
broadly, the fondling and kissing stopped but he kept me firmly sitting
in his lap. Later as I was taking off my makeup, I noticed a ring of
reddish-purple marks around my neck. That bastard had given me a bunch
of hickies. I bitched to Sylvia but all she did was laugh at my plight
and told me I wasn't the only woman to get a hickie or fight off octopus
hands. Monday morning she asked me if I wanted to wear my new skirt and
blouse again since my boyfriend seemed to like it so much.
"He's not my boyfriend," I screamed in frustration.
I opted for my silver stretch pants and a pink shell top. John was all
over me that morning as I made his breakfast and tried to clean up the
mess he made over the weekend. Not satisfied with his usual groping, he
slid his hands under my top to rub my back and bra covered false tits.
Twice he slid his hands into my pants to rub my girdle covered ass as he
kissed me. I was happy to get away after his lunch to pick up some more
cigarettes. With all the unwanted attention I was getting today, I had
smoked two packs and was out.
As I walked up to the store the two regulars standing out front drinking
beer gave me limp wristed waves. "Heard ya had a hot date with John,
you two love birds now?" one laughed out as I went past.
"Fuck you!" I replied giving him the finger which only elicited more
laughter.
"Did you have to tell every body?" I tried to sound harsh but it came
out more like a whine.
"Why only a few people, I thought from the way you two were making out
you'd be happy to tell the world of your romance," she giggled back.
"That's not funny! And I keep telling you, he's NOT my boyfriend," I
fumed. This time I thought I sounded more convincing.
"Well he is a boy, a man really but what's the difference and you are
his friend. So that makes him your boyfriend," she laughed.
The next two weeks continued along that same vein and I was miserable.
You wouldn't like it either if some grungy dirty old man kept groping
and kissing you. Sylvia took me to a beauty salon on Saturday to have
our hair styled. My hair was touching below the shoulders and the split
ends were obvious even to me. I didn't think much of it as Sylvia
talked quietly with my stylist but I should have then my style might
have come out different. I left the salon with my hair trimmed to just
above the shoulder which made it easier to manage. It was what she did
to my hair that upset me. She had dyed it darker, matching Sylvia's,
and added more grey highlights.
The following Saturday she took me back to the thrift store. This time
I walked out with a dream cycle colored strapless tea dress, strapless
claret, pink and raspberry satin and lace bustier, matching garter belt
with raspberry satin ribbon bows covering the metal tabs and raspberry
high cut nylon panties. She told me I could wear my fishnet hose and
pink patent leather four inch spiked heeled pumps we had purchased on
our first trip. You guessed it. She had invited John back over for
dinner Sunday night.
I put up a fuss Sunday afternoon but all that got me was a sound
thrashing from her hairbrush. The soft pastel pinkish-orange dress
wasn't all that bad I guess. The best thing I could say about it was
that it at least covered up more than that little leather skirt. It was
made of organza and chiffon just above the knee in length with attached
stiff net white petticoats. Sylvia said she had worn one like it over
thirty years ago for her prom. The bodice of the dress covered up my
chest pretty good but the base of my fake tits was visible. Sylvia used
some makeup to cover the seams and they looked way too real for my
comfort.
She had me paint my two inch nails in a frosted hot pink and use my
matching lipstick. She took me completely by surprise when she parted
my hair down the middle, brushed it out to form two high pig tails tied
off with pink satin ribbon bows. I looked like a damn fool and told her
so.
"That's for not cooperating earlier today, besides, I think your
boyfriend will like it," she said dismissively.
She ignored my, "He's not my boyfriend," response.
John went gaga when I met him at the door. He absolutely adored my
outfit and thought my pig tails "just the cutest." He used them to hold
my head close to his as we French kissed most of the night after dinner.
This time I kept my eyes on him when I sat down on the settee. I didn't
want to wind up sitting on his lap again. As soon as Sylvia left us
"love birds" alone, he went into over drive. It was all I could do to
maintain my modesty. This time she didn't return until it was almost
bed time. John used that time to not only to grope and kiss but pulled
out his surprisingly large dick. He used my pig tails to pull my head
toward it but I managed to avoid what he wanted me to do. I panicked as
my face neared and grabbed it with my hand. I began giving him a hand
job and he seemed satisfied with that. He clasped his big hand over
mine, released my pig tails and leaned back singing the praises of
Viagra. Later when I sat to remove my heavy and smeared makeup, I
noticed a ring of hickies running across my chest. I hate these so
called dinners and feel like a cheap piece of meat especially after what
I had done. I had to scrub my hand ten times before it felt clean.
Monday morning Sylvia made me wear my baby blue tube top with my black
bra straps visible along with my embarrassing hickies. I was also
wearing my tightest black Capri's and white three inch wedgies. At
least with these tight pants John wouldn't be able to dig his hands
inside them to squeeze my ass. As I entered his apartment I prayed that
would be all he would try to do. Alas, before the day was over I had to
give him another hand job. As distasteful as that was it was a hell of
a lot better than the other thing I knew he wanted.
Summer was coming to an end and I was still stuck living with Sylvia and
having to spend my days with John. By now everyone knew I was seriously
dating John even the hair stylist. I had been so controlled and changed
that I pretty much stopped fighting back. I was accepting the role
Sylvia determined a More 120's smoking woman should have. I dressed and
looked like a mature woman even though I turned nineteen going on twenty
a few months back. I was too worn out to avoid giving John his daily
hand job or letting him paw and slobber over me all he wanted. What was
the use?
One day I took his laundry down to the laundromat. A task I wasn't all
that comfortable with as no telling who else would be down there and see
me. I had had little contact with the neighbors spending most of my
time either with John or Sylvia. So I wasn't comfortable being around
them for any length of time. Old Mrs. Willsfort came in after I had
loaded the dryer. She gave me a smile and said hello as she put her
basket of clothing down. She was a customer of mine when I delivered
newspapers and I hoped she didn't recognize me. I stood with my rump
pressed against the folding table, smoking my More and watching her out
of the corner of my eye. I was hoping she would get the washer going
then leave.
Once she had loaded her washer, she took out some yarn and began
knitting. Without looking up from what she was doing said, "You're that
gay boy who use to deliver my newspaper, aren't you?"
I guess my mouth must have dropped open as she said, "Close your mouth
dear, you'll catch flies. Don't look so shocked, everyone in the
neighborhood knows about you."
"Th....they do?" I could only stammer.
"Of course dear but don't worry. Most folks have too much on their own
plates to worry about you. Besides, I think it is really sweet of you
to help out John. He's had no one to look out for him except his sister
Sylvia," she stated.
"Sylvia is his sister!" I blurted.
"Yes dear, you don't have to shout. I'm not deaf you know. Like I was
saying, it's nice of you to spend time with him. I have three children
and ten grandchildren but poor John really doesn't have anyone since his
boyfriend passed and left Sylvia the mini mart. No, it's good that you
are spending so much time with him," she said with a wink.
"OMG! She thinks we're having sex," flashed through my mind before
another more troubling thought. "Mr. Monroe was John's boyfriend!
Sylvia is his sister! Shit! Everyone knows about me! Crap! I'm so
fucked!"
My mind was in turmoil as I stood frozen staring at the seated woman.
Thoughts were whirling around in my head like crazy, my breathing and
heart rates jumping. The loud buzzing coming from the dryer as the load
was finished pulled me back to the here and now.
As I removed the clothes and put them into the hamper I realized what
Sylvia had done. We weren't having sex as such and she never forced me
into that role. She had made me John's baby sitter. I said goodbye to
Mrs. Willsfort and headed back to the apartment. I put the hamper down
and went to see Sylvia. She had fucked me over just so her brother
could have a baby sitter. I had to wait as she checked out two
customers before I could confront her.
When I did, she laughed, picked up her More, took a deep drag then blew
the smoke directly into my face. "Sugar, hun, don't get your panties in
a bunch."
"I'm not wearing panties!" I snapped back.
"Look Sugar, so what if I wanted John to have some company. You're the
one who wanted so desperately to smoke More 120's. All I did was make
you look and act like what a More smoker should. That's all and getting
you helping out my older brother was just a side benefit. If you don't
like it, you can always leave. It's not like you're chained to the wall
or anything," she replied.
"Wher....where could I go? I don't have any money and after what you did
to me, my mother won't have me back," I said in frustration.
"None of that is my concern hun. You put yourself right where you are
standing. I only helped you along. I was going to tell you this later
but I might as well do it now. I want you out of my house. I don't
care where you go or what you do from now on. I'm tired of giving you
free room and board as well as your clothing and other necessities," she
coldly said.
"Go," I gasped not believing my ears.
"Yes, pack your things and go. You might ask John if he will take you
but you will be out of my house by tomorrow morning. It's about lunch
time so you better get back over there before I lose my temper any more
than I already have," she angrily replied.
I walked back to John's in a daze. What I had dreamed of, what I had
longed for came true. She was releasing me, letting go and I would be
free. Yes I was free but free to do what? I couldn't go home. I
couldn't seek out any of my old friends. I didn't have any money or
male clothing. The only thing I had was John. Shit!
Kierra
- 13.04.2020
- 9
- 0
