My Lover, My Mother. Her Satin My Sin free porn video

My Mother, my Lover. Her Satin, my Sin by: Georgina The house was quiet and still. I was on my own and the evening shadows were lengthening as the sun sank in the west. We, mother and I, lived alone since father had left us two years before, to find himself, as he intimated to me, but as far as I was concerned that brutish, oafish and generally awful man could stay lost for ever. We were very happy in our solitude and had drawn close together after the awful times we went through till he went away. But tonight, and for the next three nights, I was on my own. At eighteen, though looking younger, I was allowed to stay at home without constant supervision. Mother's father was seriously ill in hospital and as this was the mid fifties, and he was far away in Scotland, mother had a long way to go. I wasn't, at least during the day, alone as we did have Julie, our maid coming in the morning and she did leave food for me during the day. But, from the late afternoon till the next morning, I was on my own in our town house in Knightsbridge, London, and I truly intended to have fun! My mother was quite well off but because she was uncertain of how life would turn out she had a job that was quite unusual. She was a foundation consultant for a corset company and she went to peoples private houses and measured them, and sold, bespoke corsetry. If I had been anyone else then I would not have bothered about this, or even mentioned it, but, I was very interested in the feminine side of life, right up to the fact that I had a veritable fetish for ladies clothes. of course at that age, and in that time, those were not the thoughts, and words, that came to me. Then it was something rather shameful, secret, almost dirty and not to be mentioned. But the fact of the matter was that I was not just interested in these things, I positively worshipped and desired them. I was a confirmed transvestite from a very early age. Having seen mother in her lingerie, especially her corsets and slips, I became addicted to the wonderful fabrics that encased her slim, svelte and extremely beautiful body. As you can imagine, I was enthralled by her beauty and nameless desires, that I did not yet understand, washed through my adolescent body and invaded my young, very impressionable mind. I tried to get close to the very things that excited me, especially the garments and, only a year previously, I had tried on some of her samples. Her own were one size too large for my own slender frame, but several exquisite pieces in her sample bag fitted me perfectly. I swooned, fainted, the first time I felt the cool constriction of satin foundations as they encased my hot and aroused body and my painfully hard, trapped underneath the glossy satin, body spurted without even the benefit of any caress. That was the seal on my desires and needs. Tonight was to be my first night alone, and I was going to make the most of it. Already I had luxuriated in a long, hot bath and now, dressed only in one of mother's negligees, a lovely sky blue diaphanous confection in delicate silk, I slid into her bedroom, and stopped. It seemed different, it was different. Instead of the usual candlewick bedspread there was a spread of dark, gleaming fur. I knew what it was. When father was still around, God rot him, he had once brought back this spread for mother as a present. It was real mink fur, in a deep chocolate colour, but this was the first time I had ever seen it on the bed. I went across to the window and closed the drapes. I tuned around to the wardrobes where she kept her samples and other things associated with her job. I got a second shock, there was a new, brand new bag there. New samples, I thought as I pulled it out and carried it over to the bed. Laying it on the luxurious counterpane, I opened the bag. it was full of white tissue wrapped garments but what stopped me for a moment was an envelope that rested on the top of the pile. I recognised mother's handwriting, but what stopped me was the fact that it was addressed to me, but in my feminine name of Georgina. With trembling hands I opened the cream envelope. Inside was a plain cream card and on it were written a few simple words, words that both shocked me and yet heartened me. They said, simply; Mother knows, my darling child. Don't worry, just enjoy. When I get back, we will talk All my love Mother For long, long minutes, I sat there, staring, almost blindly at the stiff piece of pasteboard in my hand. She knew, everything. I started to shake with fear, and then, puzzlement. The message was unequivocal. "Don't worry, just enjoy?" Did she really mean that? Shaking my head I started to take all the tissue wrapped garments out of the bag, and there were many. I laid them out on the bed and started to unwrap them. After a few minutes a veritable treasure trove was displayed on the bed. The most gorgeous thing was that they were all of them in my favourite fabric, satin, and favourite colour, black! It was a feast of fetishistic delight that met my eyes. Firstly there was a gorgeous, high waisted girdle with six suspenders, in heavy, lustrous black satin and with it a matching strapless, long line brassiere. Several smaller packages followed, containing slips, knickers, nylon stockings and night-gowns. At the end, all nicely wrapped up was a small parcel that contained a long pair of satin evening gloves and a small foil wrapped packet with contraceptives. Finally a little card, like the first, that simply stated that the rest of my presents were in the wardrobe in the spare bedroom. With trembling hands I picked up the foundation garments and slid them onto my smooth, slim, excited and trembling body. They were a perfect fit, even the cups of the bra fitted the small titties I had been blesses with since puberty. I suffered, and still do, from a condition called Gynaecomastia, a condition where the male breasts grow into female breasts. Although the doctors wanted to sort this out I had successfully fought them off. Mother, thank God, concurred. So I was untouched by the surgeons scalpel, and so pleased. I had, early on, found that my nipples were extremely sensitive, so much so that when I was very aroused, I could bring myself to a screaming orgasm by nipple stimulation alone. But this digresses from this tale of a young boys full initiation into the total art of feminisation. The smooth, cool, sensuous satin encased my trembling body in its luxuriously decadent embrace. My body, hard, trembling, rigid with arousement, rested against my belly, held there by the delicate pressure of the corset. My titties, aching, tender, nestled in the boned, satin cups of the strapless brassiere. my nipples, tiny, but hard, were visible as tiny points, punching out the glossy fabric, aching for the touch of soft, knowingly delicate, softly insistent, scrapingly intense, long, carmined fingernails to tease and torture them into a blinding maelstrom of utter desire. So I raised my hands to them and cupped those small, budding breasts and the sensations shot through my body down to my groin. If I wasn't careful, I thought to myself, I could come, but, I wanted this to be a long g and drawn out seduction of my new, female body. This, I wanted to last. So, I sat down again on that wonderful bed, Mother's bed, the one I was conceived in, and started to complete the initial dressing up. First I took out the foil packet. I knew by now what these latex sheathes were for, but for me it was an easy way to keep my new found garments dry and clean. Gently, so as not to precipitate an accident, I pulled my throbbing body out from under the corset and rolled the latex sheath on, then slid my tumescence back underneath the corset. Then, with trembling hands, I picked up one of the packets of nylon stockings and opened it. It was the very first time I had ever tried to put on a pair of these wonderful creations, and it was just that. Carefully, delicately, I rolled them in my hands, just like mother did, and slid them onto my legs. Smoothing them up my trembling limbs was a delirious experience in itself as they caressed my sensitive skin. When I had done both, pulling them up my thighs, I stood up and gently pulled them tight, then attached them to the suspenders of the corset. I still hadn't looked at myself in the mirror, it was not yet time. I reached down to the floor, where I had placed a pair of her court shoes, and taking them I slid my feet into them. They were a pair of mother's best, stiletto heeled, black leather, evening shoes, and my feet fitted them perfectly. Then, on tottering feet, I tried to walk in them. It was difficult at first, but then, very quickly, I got the hang of it. Soon I was walking about the bedroom, swishing around, the whispering of nylon on nylon as my thighs brushed, one against the other, loud in the quietness of the room. At last I stood in front of the long mirror that was at one end of the boudoir. I gasped as, for the first time, I beheld my image. I was a pretty little thing, even to my own biased sight. I started to pose, turning my left leg in to strike a coquettish pose, one hand resting across my corseted tummy, the other gently caressing the hard little nubbin of my right breast. I was a pretty little thing, slim, elfin, with what was for that day and age, quite long hair. My features were actually quite pretty and, looking down onto the dressing table, I could see the distinct similarities between my own beautiful mother and I. I was a much younger, slightly boyish, version of her. My body, encased in those gorgeous garments, was taut as a strung bow and I was on the verge of a mind blowing orgasm. But, I told myself, not yet. Reluctantly, I moved away from the mirror. I wanted to dress fully and, remembering what mother's second note told me, I glided, fully aware of my attire, relishing, glorying in the feelings, to the guest room and the treasures that were promised within. On reaching the wardrobe I slowly opened the door. It had always been empty, but tonight there was a whole rack of gorgeous fripperies for me. Gowns and dresses, all in luxurious fabrics, were there, and all new. Not one had I seen before. I took one out and looked at it. I knew my mother's size and these were a size or two, smaller. They were truly for me! The dress, well gown really, that had caught my eye, was a lovely strapless gown in rustling, shirring, scintillating silk taffeta. Its colour was a deep, midnight, blue and, as I held up to my body I knew that this would be a fitting first gown to wear. It came with a matching stole and a pair of long, matching, blue opera gloves. Taking this confection back to the boudoir I reverently laid it on the bed and then turned back to the rest of the packages. There was something I had noticed. Along with the lingerie there was a wig, this, ash blonde, like my mother and I, was in the pageboy style, just like mother's hair. I picked it up and slid it on to my head. When I turned to the mirror and saw myself, I gasped in total astonishment. I was, without any shadow of a doubt, the very image of her as a teenager. Reluctantly I turned away from the mirror and picked up a lovely satin half-slip and slid it onto my body. It was calf length, just like the gown I had picked and it felt wonderful on me. Then I slid my body down onto the pouffe that was in front of mother's dressing table. I had to make myself up. Again, I had watched my beautiful mother many times as she put on all those lotions and potions that were a woman's prerogative, and I started now. Soon, having put on foundation, blusher, mascara and eye shadow, I was ready to try my hand at lipstick. This, I found, was the most difficult of all and It took me a long time to get it right. The evening shadows were deep by the time I had finished my make up and I was ready to slide into that shirring, sexy, silk taffeta evening dress. It was the very epitome of fifties fashion as I said before and, when I had put it on, and the gloves and stole as well, I felt like a true princess going to the ball. The dress fitted to perfection, bodice hugging my body, skirts whispering naughty things to my receptive ears. There were a few last things to do and I would be ready to face whatever the night would bring. I reached into mother's jewellery case and took out a gorgeous diamond necklace and bracelet. These I put on, the bracelet fitting over the satin taffeta glove, the necklace dipping into my d?colletage, which was, due to the superb support of the strapless satin brassiere, quite pronounced. At last I was ready to face the mirror in my full glory. For the first time in my life I had dressed, and made up, completely as a woman. My whole body tingled with desire. I was in a new world of sheer fun. I felt truly complete, well almost. I still needed someone to share in my new adventures, and it was my beautiful mother whom I wanted just then. She had given me the opportunity, now, when I was fully dressed, I wanted only her to appreciate. There was no conscious desire in me then to have any kind of sexual relationship with her. That was something still unknown in me at the time. All I was aware of was this wild feeling of sweet tension that seemed to exhilarate me and send me into some sort of ecstatic, explosive heaven. Slowly I approached the mirror. The darkness of the night was fast approaching so I moved across to the windows of her room and drew the heavy, damask curtains. Then I switched on the subdued lights that mother preferred. All was set, well almost. I suddenly realised that I had not partaken of the final feminine delight. Perfume. I reached down and picked up a bottle of perfume. Mother only had the best, and in those days the best was Guerlaine's "Ode". It took just a second for me to open the bottle and slip a finger over the top. I then transferred my wet finger to my neck, smearing tiny touches of the scintillating, spicy scent over my hot skin. The exquisite fragrance filled my nostrils and seemed to permeate the entire room, a true fragrance, not like today's insipid offerings that seem to hang for a second, then disappear into a general, nondescript scent. This was real, this was powerful and this was priceless in its effect on me. I was a woman, dancing on heels that drew my calves tight, throwing my body into a posture that made me want to dance forever. I never wanted this to end, and it seemed that I had always had these desires, these needs in my body. And so it was that I approached the long, cheval mirror and presented my image for inspection once more. It was truly amazing. I was stunned as with almost disbelieving eyes, I watched a beautiful, sensuously gowned, exquisitely made up and thoroughly excited girl present herself to my disbelieving eyes. Disbelieving, oh yes, because that was me! My hands, softly gloved in shirring, sensuous, silk taffeta slid up my silk taffeta bodice, the sound hissingly thrilling in that quiet, dimly lit room. I swayed slowly to an imaginary rhythm that only I could hear. My trapped body seemed to pulsate beneath the layers of sensuous fabric. It was then That I first had the thought that this was far more deep than I had ever suspected. I seemed to have changed into my mother, and she was staring back at me. I wanted her, needed her, desired her, lusted, yes, lusted after her. The true instincts of my body knew where that hardness that nestled within the confines of my corset was really destined to go. I knew then That I wanted to lie, to sleep with my own mother! It was then, when my senses finally went into detonation mode, as we would have it today. My legs weakened and I felt as if I would collapse onto the floor, but I didn't. On suddenly weak limbs I staggered up to the mirror and lay my hotly pulsating body against the image that was me. I could feel my entire being wracked by spasm and it all seemed to centre in my belly. my trapped harness seemed to grow more rigid and I knew that my climax was about to blow me apart. Yet I had never touched it at all apart from when I adjusted it under the sensuous satin of the corset. I hadn't even touched my nipples. And I blew up. Words cannot describe the intense feelings that blasted through me, the most intense being in my hard body as it spurted its white seed into the latex condom that I had slid onto it so long ago. I found myself on the floor, still trembling, still feeling the wild flashes of ecstasy, my hand now wildly rubbing the hard tube of flesh as it seemed to go on forever. Till blackness overtook me and I knew no more. I seemed to come up from s deep, dark pit to find myself lying in a crumpled heap on the floor in front of the mirror. The skirts of my wonderful garments mussed up around me. Weakly I got to my feet and looked at my image in the mirror. I, surprisingly, didn't look as much of a mess as I feared. The edge was now taken off my urgent desires, though I felt my body was still quite hard, and I knew that soon I would do even more justice to the clothes, and feelings I was experiencing. I went across to her bathroom and started to clean myself up down below. It didn't take long and soon, my body once more protected by a latex sheath, or should I say, my clothes, I was ready to continue with my "Games". The time was late now, night had come and I was quite hungry. Julie, our maid, had left a small salad in the fridge for me, I was never a great eater, but I was really ready for it. The house was quite dark as I went downstairs. The street lighting was the only illumination as I descended and it was utterly quiet. Swishing down the stairs was a wonderful experience. The taffeta skirts rustled and whispered little words of sensual desire. The pull of the suspenders seemed to massage my legs. Nylon hissed on nylon with a sibilant swish. My bodice held me close and the cups of the brassiere caressed the sensitive skin of my hot, budding titties. The nipples, hard, excited, brushed electrically over the soft, yet tingling, net that lined the inside. My trapped body glided rhythmically with my movements, pressing insistently against the satin panel of the high waisted corset. My hands, gloved in those magnificent taffeta gloves, tingled. My heels made me walk tall and proud, yet they added a softly undulating gait to my walk. I knew now why women put up with them. I reached the bottom of the stairs, I was, after my orgasm, much calmer now and I seemed to move almost in a dream as I entered the drawing room and, before switching on the lights, drew the velvet drapes to the window. I then drew all the drapes in the rest of the downstairs rooms. I took out the meal from the fridge and ate it in the dining room. I so enjoyed doing that and it seemed as if a new, more delicate, more gentle person had taken me over. Finishing all my food, feeling replete, I washed up everything and put it away, something I would not have done as a boy, yet, as a girl, it seemed totally natural to clean up behind me. After that I went into the drawing room and lay down on the chaise longue and picked up a copy of the latest Vogue magazine. It was a lazy hour I spent, leafing through the magazine, identifying with the glamorous models that graced the glossy pages. Models like Barbara Goalen, resplendent in heavy, gleaming, strapless, silk satin gowns. Her curvaceous body, with its tiny waist was far more of a turn on than the pornographic magazines of today. Still is as a matter of fact. I lay back on that gorgeous chaise longue and idly caressed my trembling, taffeta sheathed body with taffeta gloved hands, exploring the soft curve of tender breast and hard, throbbing nipple. Then my hands slid down, whispering over the bodice of the gown to slide, gently, insistently, over the hard tube of flesh that pulsated, throbbed, beneath the satin prison that was my elegant, utterly sensual, corset. I was so hot again, but this was a different kind of heat. It was a slow, powerful flame that burned its way to the very core of my feminised body. It was then that I wanted someone else to share it with me. Someone who understood my desires, and would help me to achieve them. In my mind there was only one person who could fulfil my wishes. The one person who had given me the wherewithal and opportunity, my one and only, beautiful and softly gentle, mother. Yes, many would say that it was a perverted desire. Maybe so, but how many of us harbour strange or deviant desires. The evil person is the one who brutally imposes those desires on people who do not wish to be involved. Mutual consent, between people, as long as they are not physically, or psychologically, hurt by these actions. But I digress. At that time all I knew is that I wanted my mother to help in my sensual and sexual desires. Whether she would I did not then know. Now, as I lay back on the couch, her image floated into my consciousness. A coolly beautiful, elegant, slim and vivacious blonde, with a heartbreakingly lovely and serene face, which broke out into frequent laughter, sometimes at the oddest times, she had suffered, as I had, at the hands of my father. Now, although we were extremely well off, courtesy, may I add, of her family, not his, she still felt that she had to do something, even though the money she got was not necessary for our existence. That, in fact, it was done for a different reason I was yet to find out. She was, in my dreams, always elegantly and beautifully gowned, either in sensuous dishabille, night-gowns and lingerie, or in a lovely evening gown or slim and gorgeous cocktail dress. Her hair was never long and she wore it in a very simple page boy style that gave a perfect frame to her lovely eyes, high cheekbones and full, sensuous lips. Her body, slim and elegant as I have previously mentioned, was saved from total boyishness by gentle curves and a lovely pair of pear shaped breasts that did not, and I did see them several times, need any support at all. She was always free and easy around the house and, when we were alone, she always liked to lounge around the house in an elegant night-gown and negligee, of which she had a multitude. She was, without the shadow of a doubt, one of the most beautiful women that ever was in London at that time, and mine was not the only like opinion. She loved clothes, and had a very extended wardrobe. In fact up to three years before, she had done quite a lot of modelling for some of the major fashion houses at the time. A favourite picture of her I still have, dressed in a fantastic, printed, silk- satin, full skirted, cocktail dress was a dream indeed. As my hands slowly and delicately traced paths of sensuous pleasure over my softly writhing body my eyes closed and softly ethereal forms floated through my dreamy thoughts. I seemed to be in a subtly lighted room, laid with couches, similar to what I lay on, and I lay there in the company of many of the top models of the day. They, like me, were dressed in elegant evening gowns, all of satin, taffeta and velvet, all by the top designers of the day. Dior, Balenciaga, Worth, Hardy Amies. I seemed to be the centre of attraction and slowly the elegant beauties rose from those couches and, with the soft rustling of taffeta, the sibilant hissing of satin, they approached me and settled their sumptuously gowned and gloved bodies around me. Gorgeously made-up and neatly coiffured they were, heartbreakingly beautiful, and sensuously inclined. My dream felt so real. Maybe it was only my hands that caressed my body, drawing out the sensations that threatened to rip my body apart, but it felt so real. My mother was there, in my dream, and she was the most beautiful of all. The dream seemed to shimmer, coalescing into an entity, till it was only mother's hands, and sweetly smiling face that was there with me. And her hands, knowing, insistent drew me ever higher in my passions that were the most powerful I had ever experienced. I was crying, moaning, writhing in my deep desire. My hands were wildly pressing over the engorged flesh of my trapped body. But, it wasn't my hands, it was mother's hands that drew me on, it was mothers sweetly smiling face that made me so hot. it was mother's softly whispered words that echoed in my ears. "Come, my sweet baby," she uttered, and her glossy, lipsticked lips drew closer to my face. "Come, my sweet little child. Give mother what she wants, give mother your hot white seed. Let mother feel it on her hot, gloved hands!" My hands, no, mother's hands, feverishly drew up the taffeta skirts of my gown and then pulled out the pulsating centre of my wild passions from underneath the satin corset, exposing it to the cool, evening air. It wasn't really my hands but mother's hands that ripped the thin latex sheath off the trembling length of engorged flesh and it was mother's, not my, hands that moved so gently over the sensitive glans to send me into a wild, utterly encompassing orgasm that ripped my whole body and spirit apart as the orgasm took over my entire self. The jets of white, sticky spend were so violent and strong that they burst through the clutching, caressing, taffeta gloved hands, spraying wildly over my nyloned limbs. The roaring in my ears was still quiet enough for mother's whispered words to penetrate. "Yesss, sweet baby, come for mother, sweet little girl, come for mother!!!" And, once more, I fainted. After that second, cataclysmic, orgasm, I was totally finished. Slowly getting to my feet I tottered on unsteady limbs upstairs to mother's bedroom. I looked at the clock and saw that it was quite late, the time stood at eleven fifteen. Julie, our maid, because it was Saturday the next day, would not be in till midday and would only be there for two hours, so I decided it would be safe to sleep in mother's bed tonight. Wearily, I divested myself of all those wonderful feminine garments and tottered into mother's en-suite bathroom to have a long, hot shower. After the shower I felt extremely refreshed, though still exhausted and I turned towards the bed. I firstly put away all the clothes apart from three new tissue wrapped parcels that I was going to wear in bed, and the nylon stockings I had worn before. Unwrapping the tissue paper I laid out on the bed three new, scrumptious, articles of glamorous clothing. The first was a lovely satin garter belt, in lustrous, black satin of course. The second was a fantastic pair of lace trimmed, wide legged, satin knickers. I later learned that these were called "French Knickers'. Thirdly, and the prize of the whole bundle, was a gorgeously opulent, thoroughly sexy, long, lace trimmed, black satin night-gown, with an opera topped bodice and delicate, cross back, ribbon straps. I sat down on that mink counterpane and, for a few moments, lay down, naked, on the rich, glossy, softly sensuous, fur, writhing, rolling over the surface, enjoying the sensuous feel of that fur on my naked skin. It was enough to give me twinges in my body that caused it to start to erect. I was amazed at my own powers of recuperation, but such is the power of youth. But, I was still tired and so, wanting to get into bed, I started to dress in my chosen sleep wear. I put back on those lovely nylon stockings, thrilling, as always to the insistent thrill that they gave my body. Then, standing up I put the lovely garter belt around my waist. This was another sexy piece of frippery, six inches in depth, with six suspenders, it was really a waist cincher and it gripped my waist, reducing it by at least an inch. It felt wonderful when I attached the welts of the stockings to the suspenders and felt, once more, the tug of the nylons as I took a few paces around the room. Delighting in that caused my tumescence to rise again, but not with the same urgency as before. It was time now to complete my dressing for the night. The soft knickers were a joy to put on and they tenderly swathed my hardness in their satin embrace. Finally, I slid that sumptuous, sensuous night gown over my head and let its soft fabric drape my body. Mother must have really known what she was about when she bought that garment. It was truly made for me. my titties, swollen with excitement, filled the cups perfectly, and my aroused nipples were highly visible in their hard, excited, state. For a few minutes I stood in front of the cheval mirror, admiring my image. Without the make up on I still looked, in these sexy garments, like a very pretty girl and I was very pleased with how I looked. Vanity, it seems, is inherent in all of "us'. It was even quite a turn on to see my harness tenting out the softly flowing skirt of the gown, certainly the dichotomy was not lost on me. my hands slid up to my tender breasts and, for a few seconds, teased my nipples. My eyes closed for a few more seconds, but I was tired, so I stopped, turned to the bed, and pulled back the counterpane, to stand amazed at what I saw. The sheets were different, and a wonder to behold. Heavy, smooth, glossy, luscious, deep crimson satin, and laying on the top, another small note from mother! Sleep well, my sweet daughter! Pleasant dreams. I will see you soon. Many hot kisses! Mother. I placed the small card on the pillow and slid between those wonderful sheets. My satin and nylon sheathed body slid sexily into the cool cocoon of those fantastic sheets and I lay down with a sigh of utter disbelief. What more, I wondered, would this adventure bring. My eyes fell shut and, though I was still excited, sleep took over and I dreamed of a swathe of heavenly scenes that whirled through my mind all night. I awoke, utterly refreshed, in the morning, at the time of eight. I knew that Julie was coming at twelve, so I got up and, with regret, put all the garments, including my night wear, away and tidied up everything. For the next few hours, until she left at two, I would have to suffer my male persona. It would, I knew, be a drag, pun intended. Mother was due back on Sunday evening and the Summer Holidays began this weekend, six glorious weeks away from the public school at which I was a day pupil. What we were going to do was still a secret, so mother had told me. I had a half hope that it might include more dressing up. That remained in the near future, now, specifically today and tomorrow was in my mind. The time dragged, Julie came, made me my lunch and left me supper and tomorrow's lunch in the fridge. She had a day off on Sundays, but also, due to the school holidays she was having those off as well, she had two children of her own, a boy and a girl who were one and three years younger than me, so this was the last time I would see her for a while. Julie was a pretty thing, she had married young and her son had been born just after the wedding, about three months later. Her husband had beaten her up and was now an absent husband. Still only twenty eight, she looked twenty at the oldest and she and mother seemed to be more than just mistress and maid, although I didn't know then just how different. That was to come later. At last, Julie left and I had the whole afternoon, evening, night and morning to myself and my new found games. As it was the afternoon I could not dress in my evening clothes till later. In the fifties, afternoon dress was de-riguer. In the wardrobe I had noticed a very pretty afternoon frock in what looked like real silk. I showered and after that I wandered back into mother's boudoir. There I took out "my" bag and found the lingerie I would wear this afternoon. Down in the bottom of the bag were tissue wrapped parcels I had glanced at but not taken out as they had not suited the mood of last night, but were perfect for the day. They consisted of a lovely white satin short brassiere, a matching white satin girdle, this one quite high cut that it exposed my body, a pair of lovely beige nylons and gorgeous, slinky, white satin, opera topped slip with matching French knickers. Dressed in the exquisite lingerie I sat down at the dressing table and started to make myself up. having observed mother many times I started to do it in a more subdued fashion than I did last night. Paler foundations, more pastel eye shadow and a deep coral, rather than the vivid red, lipstick. After I finished my make-up I put back onto my head the lovely blonde wig of the night before. Once more I fancied the image in the mirror. Standing up I went across to the shoe cabinet and took out a pair of mother's shoes. As it was the afternoon I took out a lovely pair of mid heeled court shoes. I did find that they were far more comfortable to wear but they didn't feel as sexy, so I changed them back to the lovely shoes I had worn last night. I was finally ready to dress in that lovely day dress. It was a treasure and as I took it out it rustled whisperingly in my ears. It was a pastel print, cross over bodiced dress with very tiny sleeves and a full skirt that was held out by a sewn in bouffant petticoat made of several layers of net. I slid it on and felt the masses of net drift over my face and down my body, to settle sensuously in a frilly cloud. All that remained was to draw up the zip at the side and affix the small broach under the left breast. It was, in its way as heavenly as the gown of last night, just as rustly, sensually exciting and thoroughly feminine. Because the corset was high cut at the bottom, I found that my erect body, swathed so slinkily in the satin knickers, brushed extremely softly over the taffeta inner lining of the skirt, setting up a very hot feeling of desire as I rustled and swished about the room. It was almost impossible to stay cool as I decided to descend the stairs, I had to stop every few seconds to calm down. I didn't want to orgasm just yet. That afternoon I spent the day in a haze of denied pleasure. Firstly I spent it trying my hand at preparing a proper evening meal, cooking for myself. It was amazing how I gravitated to this and it was a pleasure to actually try to concoct a proper cooked meal. But, as I moved about the kitchen the sensations that my dress and emotions played on me drove my excitement even higher so that I felt the sheer pleasure taking over and guiding my actions. It was weird to suddenly, in the middle of stirring a hot saucepan, to feel the sudden urge to run upstairs and lay down on the bed before the threatened orgasm destroyed my domestic actions. I, luckily, turned the stove off before I ran up to mother's boudoir. After that little episode I went back downstairs again, having managed to stop myself from totally staining my new clothes by catching my seed in my bare hands. Funnily, I had this weird urge to taste it and I raised the palm of my hand to my mouth and licked at the glutinous effusion. Amazingly, it tasted salty, slightly pungent and not at all unpleasant. The rest of the afternoon and early evening passed in a haze of pleasure, and fun. By the time that evening started to draw close it was time to dress for evening, but I was too tired and instead elected to do what mother did frequently. I went for a long bath and then dressed in my night gown and matching negligee. I still kept on my nylons and suspender belt, that was lovely, and my high, stiletto heels, of course. Once more I was relaxing downstairs. I had, this late afternoon for it was nearly five o clock, decided to have a sweet sherry and I was sipping this whilst Leafing through some of my favourite literature, this time a copy of Tatler magazine. This one issue was my favourite as it featured mother in one of its social spreads and there were two good pictures of her dressed in one of her, and my, favourite gowns, a lovely pale blue, duchesse satin ball gown with a full skirt and strapless bodice. This was matched with a pair of black satin evening gloves and a black taffeta stole. She looked absolutely scrumptious and I never tired of gazing at that picture. At that moment I wasn't really that hot, just pleasantly excited, my body hard, but not insistently so and I was idly caressing my left nipple with my hand, teasing it gently, when the rattle of a key in the front door, then the sound of the door opening, froze me totally rigid. With open mouth I turned my head to the door of the drawing room and waited, like a rabbit trapped in the headlights of a car. A figure entered and paused, I gasped as did the woman, as that is who it was. "Georgie?" she whispered. I just nodded, speechless. "Georgie, is it really you?" She moved into the room, elegant and beautiful, as usual and placed the overnight case she was carrying on the floor.I found my voice, well, sort off. "Yes," I whispered. "It's me, Mother," then burst into tears. "I'm sorry mother, I'm so. so sorry!" My eyes were blurred with tears as I gazed at mother. She slowly came towards me having dropped her case by the door. I was like a frightened rabbit, and couldn't move. "What happened mother?" I tremulously asked. "Is grandpa all right?" She nodded. "Oh yes, it was just a false alarm, so I came back early." She smiled, secretly, knowingly, then sank onto her knees beside me as I still reclined, fully clothed in those magnificent garments, yet with all thoughts of sexual excitement forgotten. "I hoped I would find you dressed in your new silkies," she whispered and I turned to her with astonishment. She laughed at my expression. Then reached down with her hand and touched me on my satin covered thigh. My arousal was instant and complete, so much so that both mother and I were totally astonished at the sight of my body rearing to full hardness in what seemed to be a bare second. I was silent, blushing, I was sure, from the heat that suffused my cheeks. "Ohhhhhhhh Lord!!!" Mother whispered as her hot gaze lashed my body with fire. "How beautiful, my hot little girl is very excited." I didn't move, just watched as mother's hand slowly slid along my thigh, her carmined nails gently scraping over the sensuous satin peignoir. It felt amazing, so unlike my own caress, and infinitely more exciting. The slithering slide of satin on my nylon sheathed thigh was a wondrous experience of its own, but when mother did it then it was heavenly beyond belief. I threw my head back at the salacious touch, the fact that it was my own mother's touch that was exciting me was not a small thing. The rights and wrongs of what was happening at that very moment did not then, or ever, may I add, concern me. All I knew was that the very centre of my adolescent fantasies and dreams was at that very moment there beside me and her lovely, knowing, insistent hand was slowly caressing my trembling, wanting, satin covered body. Her hand paused at the welt of my stocking and felt the button of the suspender, toying teasingly with the small object. The tugging of her touching fingers tautened the tension on the stocking and the feeling was hot beyond my imagination. Everything seemed to be extra sensitive at this time and I could feel myself reaching to an ecstatic height I had not yet envisaged. My eyes, which had closed, opened and I was aware that mother was leaning towards me and our faces were barely a foot apart. I drank in her wondrous beauty. Her heart shaped face was softly lit by the glow of the subdued lights, her make up, impeccable as always, was lovely study of understated sensuality and her full, lushly carmined lips were parted slightly and wetly inviting as they trembled in an emotion I was yet to know. We gazed at each other for what were minutes and I saw my emotions mirrored in her eyes, a deep love, a soft desire and a long awaited need. We were of one mind, mother and I, wanting to go as far as it was ever possible to go, and fearful of what we would find when we got there. Clich?s are truly a mirror of life, as eyes are the mirrors of the soul. My fear left me and only a slow and passionate heat remained. Mother sensed my change, and smiled. She leaned closer and softly pursed her delectable lips. I knew she didn't want to kiss my cheek, instinctively, I knew that this was to be the first of many, forbidden kisses. Kisses that society frowns on, yet are the sweetest of all. The ardent, sensuous, lip to lip, carnal kiss of a mother to her child. And so it was that our lips touched, gently, softly, a caressing brush that stuck clingingly as our lipsticks, mine carmine, hers a slightly softer blush red, met and mixed. But the immediate effect was a soft panting groan from me as my lips exploded with forbidden delight. Mother sighed into my parted lips and her warm breath was a further aphrodisiac. I moaned and her lips parted to mine so that our kiss, at first so slight and soft, turned into a wetly sucking, deeply passionate, statement of our mutual desire. Her left hand, resting on my thigh, slid slowly, delicately, up towards my panting, heaving, satin sheathed breasts. They ached to feel her touch. My hardness, trembling, rigid with desire, seemed to grow even more and it ached for it knew not what. Her hand cupped my breast, fingers gently exploring, touching, circling over my suddenly engorged nipple. When she felt it her hand stopped and a small gasp of amazement left her lips. She pulled a way, breaking our hot, wet, tongueing kiss. "Oh darling!" she exclaimed. "You have real breasts!!!!" I nodded, ashamed again for some unknown reason. My eyes pulled away from mother's face and I lowered them to her bodice, and paused. I had, until this moment been unaware, but now I noticed that mother had, whilst we had been kissing, opened her suit jacket and slid it off her slim body leaving her clad above the waist in a lovely, white satin, long line brassiere. Her hand continued to rest on my aching tittie as she raised her other hand and delicately cupped her own firm, beautiful breast. "Why, Mother?" I whispered. "Why what my sweet baby?" mother whispered back. "Why do you like me as a girl?" "I love girls," Mother whispered back, "I love girls more than boys. When I found that you liked my silkies then I knew all my dreams had come true. I love you my sweet little girl." With that mother leaned down once more and this time she hotly kissed me with a full, open mouthed, deeply sucking and wickedly incestuous kiss that destroyed me completely as, at the same time, her long nailed fingers nipped my highly aroused nipple, sending me into spasms of orgasmic delight. My hardness was now so rigid that it felt like a bar of steel and I knew that very soon I would explode into a massive, all encompassing orgasm. But it was not to be. At the last moment, just before I exploded, mother stopped and pulled away from me to sit back on her heels. She too was panting wildly with emotion and she shook slightly with her own passions. "No, my sweet child," she whispered hoarsely. "Not yet, not just yet. Wait a while and will get even better." She cupped her satin covered breasts with her hands, sliding her long fingernails over her own hard, prominent nipples, teasing them as she had teased mine. I gazed hotly at her wondrous body, my emotions slowly coming under control. I had to be very careful though as I knew that any movement of my body, any slip-sliding of satin over my sensitive flesh would bring on my threatened orgasm so I lay very, very still. Mother slowly stood up when she saw that I was mastering my emotions and smiled down at me. her eyes seemed to caress my feminised body and I gazed back at her with equal desire. At last, she spoke. "When you have settled down, darling, give me ten minutes to freshen up, come upstairs to my room and we will talk." She left the room and slowly I started to calm down, even though the temptation to finish myself off was almost too strong to bear. At last, I was able to move, though my hardness never really went down and it continued to pulsate slowly under the satin fabric that swathed it in its delicate, gentle touch. I sipped a bit more of my sherry and then, after about twenty minutes I heard mother calling from her room. I stood up and walked across the room and up the stairs. As always, the satin had a detrimental effect on my sanity so I had to stop for a while to relax. mother had told me to wait, so I would do so. At last I came up to the landing and slowly entered into mother's boudoir. She had set only the softly sensual wall lighting and it was a delicious sight that met my young, still untutored and very lustful eyes. Mother, gowned in a very opulent, extremely luxurious and thoroughly sensuous crimson satin night gown was lying back on her satin sheeted bed. For a long moment I stopped in the doorway and admired her exquisite beauty. She was a symphony of satin and sensuous elegance, with her marvellous features perfectly made-up and the delicate fragrance of Guerlaine's Ode filling the air with spicy tones. I could see that she was as excited as I. Even in the subdued lighting, her nipples, impudently hard, were very urgent in their statement of want, hard as pebbles was the simile that came to mind. For long, long seconds I stood, leaning against the door jamb, drinking in that heavenly scene. mother merely gazed back at me, but the heat of her lustful gaze lashed my body like a whip, making me tremble once more. Mother had drawn back the mink counterpane and the black satin sheets gleamed in the subdued lighting of the room. her crimson satin sheathed body reclined on the bed like a pre-Raphaelite odalisque, sinuous, sensuous and lusciously sexy. She may have been my mother, but at that moment, she was a vision of such sensual beauty as to be godlike in her effect on me. "You are so beautiful mother!" I gasped in awe. "The most beautiful person I have ever seen. "But," I continued, "why, why me, why this, why the..........." I stopped and slowly moved to the bed as she raised her hand and, with a gentle smile on her face, beckoned me closer. As I came up to the bed she patted the sheet beside her and, with a thumping heart, I slid onto those smooth satin sheets. It was so wonderful laying down beside the warm, vibrant, exciting woman who was my beautiful mother. I was on my back, my head on the pillows and mother was beside me and raised up on one elbow. She turned to me and looked down at my body with a serious, yet tranquil expression on her gorgeous features. I gazed up at her and my mind buzzed with many questions. Several times I had seen mother with some of her friends, all of them beautiful women and once or twice spied on them, so I was not unaware that mother and her friends enjoyed some, shall we say, unusual pastimes. These actually formed some of my most erotic fantasies as frequently I wanted to be in their places and doing the things they did. You see, mother had strikingly strong lesbian tendencies, but then I was unaware of what that was but, as a boy I was intensely discrete. Somehow I always knew that I had to be totally secretive with my knowledge, so I have always kept the secret, till this day. After a few minutes of mutual adoration, mother reached down and, laying herself down on the bed, she drew me into her and held me close to her. I snuggled into her comforting arms and rested my cheek against her full, firm, satin cupped breast and felt her hard nipple grazing my cheek. delicately I rubbed the hard nubbin with soft caresses of my face and felt her breathe out softly as she welcomed the touching, gliding caress. But now was not the time for sexual activity, or lovemaking, as I much prefer to call it. A word so out of fashion today, yet so descriptive of the joining of two, or more, people totally, body and spirit. Mother started to talk, explain and describe both her feelings and desires, gently, softly and with total candour so that, as the evening turned into night, I understood not only her feelings and needs, but also my own. it was a total revelation to me and by the time that the old day slid into the new, I knew that a totally new and exciting phase was opening in my life. mother's new daughter-lover was born in the early hours of that morning. I fell asleep, unrequited, that early morning, still wrapped in my mother's loving arms, but tranquil and at peace, all questions answered and all fears quelled. Georgina, or Gina, as she became that day, was born, into a totally hostile and rabidly anti me, world. Chapter 2 I awoke the next morning in mothers bed, snuggled under the mink counterpane and encased, deliciously, in the slinky, erotic and highly exciting, satin sheets. The presence of my mother beside me was a magnificent bonus. I awoke within the embrace of her arms, my face nestled into her magnificent bosom with my lips touching the soft, satin sheathed, nipple of her left tittie. I was totally aware of my body, hot, excited as it writhed, softly, insistently against her slim body, my urgently aroused hardness, swathed in the slinky satin, pushing against the maternal belly. I felt mothers hands cradle my head and her fingers ruffle through my fine, blonde hair. I knew she was awake and that was confirmed as she drew my face even closer to her lovely breast. I opened my lips slightly and encased the thrusting nipple in a caressing kiss that no boy-girl child should ever have given "her" mother. She gasped as I slowly sucked in her tender, yet rapidly hardening nipple and I felt her tremble in my arms as they slid around her body to pull her even closer to my urgently aroused "clitty" as I now called my she-male body. I know that these are words of today, but how else can I describe it. Cock, prick, words that are coarse, crude, common and base as far as I am concerned and not truly descriptive of what I felt at all. For long, long minutes we cuddled and caressed in a mutual, incestuous frenzy. My hands, sure and urgent, slid down to her taut, trim buttocks and pulled them in towards the aching, wanting centre of my own passion. As mother felt my throbbing body pressing into the very centre of her passion she moaned deep into my mouth and slowly melted totally against me. I moaned back with need and want. I slowly pushed her back onto the satin sheets, slowly placing myself above her so that soon I was couched between her parted thighs and, still madly kissing, I started to thrust my body against the very centre of her body. My still satin covered body was actually parting the weeping folds of her body, I could feel the slick wetness soaking through both her night-gown and mine and I could feel the bunching of the fabric as it forced itself in-between the sensual maternal lips of her sex. It was then That mother stiffened in my arms and as I felt the incredible heat of her, she shuddered, spasmed, then screamed as she climaxed in my hot, incestuous embrace. I too felt the incredible surge of orgasmic ecstasy wash through my body and, though I was only a fraction of an inch into mother's body, I could feel the incredible heat and the fluttering spasm of her orgasming muscles. It was, too much and I joined her in a massive, exploding orgasm and, because I had neglected to put on a latex sheath, my hot, sticky seed spurted out to soak my satin gown and hers as well. It was an incredible orgasm. I seemed to be moving from peak to peak, ever higher in my wild pleasures and trails of fire raced through my trembling body as my lips, still meshed to mother's rapacious lips drank of her essence in that wild, passionate and thoroughly wicked, incestuous kiss. I seemed to spurt and spurt till, at last, I slowed and stopped. Beneath me mother seemed to flow from shuddering climax to shuddering climax and her lower limbs, wrapped about my body, squeezed me with wild abandon as she panted and moaned in her atavistic passion. I loved her then, as much as anyone can because she gave me not only my life, but also my ecstasy. So, was it perverted. Who knows what goes on behind closed doors that never reaches the light of day. All I know is that I loved it, revered it and would never break its secret because then It would be taken from me and I would be alone with only my dreams to keep me company. At last the spasms stopped and, exhausted, I fell down on top of my beautiful mother. She enfolded me in her soft arms and cuddled me to her. We were still kissing, softly, wetly, but this time without the intense urgency, the wild passion of just a few moments before. These were kisses of wet lipped satiation and gratitude as both of us, mother and child, thanked each other for the intense experience that each had given to the other. I dozed once more, falling asleep as she slid me off her body and wrapped her luscious limbs around my still trembling entity. I awoke when the sun was much higher in the sky, to the sounds of someone moving around the room. I opened my eyes to see Julie, mother's maid walking towards me with a tray in her hands. But this was a different Julie to normal, and very much more attractively dressed. her pert and pretty face was totally changed by the skilful application of make-up so that she was positively beautiful. Her dark brown hair was pulled up into a lovely chignon and her lips, deeply carmined, shone wetly in the soft light that crept into the room through the half drawn windows. Her dress, instead of her usual black maid's dress was a lovely day dress in wafting, fine, almost sheer silk, dove grey in colour and very feminine. She looked eminently desirable and very, very sexy. She smiled at me and, as I realised that she could see my feminine guise, I tried to slide deep under the covers, but, at my antics, she laughed. "Silly," she chuckled, "I have known about your little games, as did your mother, for over two years now, and we don't mind. My little Tony likes to play at being Antonia as well." I gulped at that. Tony, Julie's young son was my age, just eighteen, also petite and elfin like. Also the fruits of a loveless marriage, he was an elfin child. Incredibly, he was even slimmer, more delicate than I. Later I was to learn that mother's coterie of friends spread over a multitude of ladies, and their offspring, some sons, some daughters and some, in-between, shall we say. Still, that was in the future. As it was Julie sat down on the side of the bed and, unconcernedly, laid out a full breakfast tray. I sat up in that wonderful satin sheeted bed and enjoyed, by now totally as unselfconscious as with mother, a lovely breakfast, listening while Julie prattled on about how wonderful everything would be now that I was to be the new "daughter of the House." Afterwards I got up and went in for a long, hot shower. As I stepped out of the hot water I felt the waft of cool air as the door opened. Startled I turned around and saw that mother and Julia were there, carrying some wonderful apparel in their hands. Quickly, I finished drying myself off and, unconcernedly naked, walked across to them. In passing, I glanced at my body in the full length mirrored wall. I was, I freely admitted, very pretty. I was not worried, or concerned, any more about my gynaecomastia, my pert little breasts were now, since I had felt the immense pleasure of arousement, very precious to me. My nipples, prominent and hard, enhanced the delicate, girlish curves, two perfect little mounds that were gorgeously sensitive. My body though, was a different matter. It seemed to be almost permanently aroused, hard, throbbing, resting vertically against my trim belly, its modest, barely four inches, though thick in diameter, length always trembling in anticipation. I felt both mother's and Julia's eyes roam over my unselfconscious body, hot, arousing and I knew that to-day was going to be a very special day. Julia was still in her day dress of dove grey silk but mother was elegantly resplendent in a gorgeous grey satin night-gown that was a symphony of shimmering, slinky beauty and I drank in her loveliness, my body responding by visibly trembling with wanton desire. She was incredibly beautiful and I ached for what I knew not, but desired, lusted for, intensely. They both looked at each other and smiled. I reached them and they both put down the clothes and opened their arms to me. I slid into their arms and it seamed as if they surrounded me, mother at my front and Julia pressing her delicate body against my back. Hot nibbling lips caressed my shoulder as Julia ignited further fires in my body, but mother was more, infinitely more, arousing as her body, naked, I realised, under the heavy, lustrous satin of her night-gown, moulded itself to my tender nakedness. My hot nipples slid over the scrumptiously smooth satin of her bodice and my erection thrust between her satin sheathed thighs, hunting unerringly for the hot centre of her maternal body. She was, I realised, as hot as I as I felt the sweet dampness of her arousal on my throbbing erection. I knew then that mother and I would consummate our desires very, very soon. Her hot, full, carmined lips touched mine in a soft, sensual and wonderful kiss, sending shivers of wild fire through my trembling body. I moaned as her lips opened and her hot tongue slid into my panting, wanting ready mouth to touch, caress my own tongue in the deepest, most passionate, incestuous kiss I could ever imagine. Reluctantly, mother pulled back, just as I was reaching the peak of my incestual passion, fuelled as it was by the sensuous garments and fabrics that surrounded me, She was panting softly and her eyes, hot, dewy, filled with desire, gazed deep into my own eyes, searching deep into my soul. She slowly smiled as she recognised that I was not only ready, but also willing to fall into her own wild and deeply perverted, incestuous games. Julia too stood back and I was aware of the coolness of the air wafting over my overheated flesh. They went back to the clothes and lifting them up, beckoned to me to go into mother's dressing room. There they sat me down in front of mother's dressing table and, while Julia started to make up my face and style my hair, mother went off into her dressing room to dress herself. I lost myself in daydreams and the time flew by till Julia woke me up from my musings and I looked at myself in the mirror. I could see myself down to the waist and a very attractive, so attractive that she excited me, girl gazed back at me in the mirror. She had done a wonderful job. My hair, far longer than was fashionable was now styled in a lovely little bob and my face, expertly made up with blushers, creams, foundations and lipsticked looked at least eighteen years of age. After Julia had finished I got up and walked across to the pile of garments on the chair. I looked at them with a thrill coursing through my slim body. it was a brand new ensemble, everything from lingerie to dress, and what a dress. it was a lovely, powder blue afternoon dress in heavy, lustrous silk. I picked it up and placed it against my naked body and, turning to the long mirror, I admired its lovely design. It was scrumptious, with a lovely scoop neckline and a full, flowing, exquisite skirt that reached a full three inches below my knee. Hurriedly I put it down and picked up the first garment I was going to wear. it was a lovely, slinky corselette in beautiful, sensuously slinky, white satin. Boned, strapless, it slid onto my body like the glove it was designed to be. My tender titties, just A cup, fitted perfectly and I knew mother had bought it especially for me. My unruly body I encased in a latex sheath and slid under the satin panel of the restrictive garment. Then I sat down and sensuously slid on the fine, seamed, fully fashioned nylons that Julia handed to me, shivering as the sleek, gossamer like, hose caressed my limbs. After that it only took a few minutes to slide on a lovely, frothy, net and lace half slip and then draw on the gorgeous dress. Julia went behind me and slid up the back zip and then, getting down on her knees, slid my feet into a pair of black, patent leather, three inch heeled, court shoes. I was almost ready, all I had left to do was put on a scrunchy pair of silk French knickers. I was, I mused, ready for mother, or anyone for that matter. I felt truly wonderful, sexy, hot and very, very feminine. That afternoon was a sensual experience I will always treasure for the rest of my, by now, short life. Julia and I went out of the boudoir and down the hallway to where mother waited for us in the drawing room. She was still in her lingerie and lay back on the chaise - longue, elegant and sumptuous in her nightgown and negligee. Almost imperiously, she raised her hand; index finger extended and gave a little circular motion, commanding me to do a twirl. I spun around on my heels, my silk skirts and flouncy, taffeta and lace, petticoats swirling around my nyloned limbs. "Pretty," she said, smiling softly. "Very delectable, don't you think so, Julia?" "Excessively so, my lady." I heard her whisper back from just behind me. "Will give my little Antonia a very definite run for her money." They laughed gaily at that and I felt Julia slide her hands onto my waist and her body mould itself against my back, pressing her firm, delectable breasts against me. "Go then, my lovelies," Mother then commanded, again imperiously. "As we are having an evening en quatre, take Georgina to Harrods and let her pick an evening gown for herself. She is a standard size 10, from what I can see." I was thunderstruck. "Dressed like this?" I managed to barely croak in my panicked state of mind. Mother smiled. "Who will know?" she asked. "From where I am you are a perfect young lady. Unless you do anything foolish, such as show your yourself in flagrante delicto, shall we say, then no one will be any the wiser." I looked across at the cheval mirror that adorned the left side of the room. I suddenly realised that they were right. Without any shadow of a doubt I was an extremely fanciable young lady, in fact I could, and certainly did, fancy myself in an extremely narcissitic way. Although still slightly apprehensive, I knew I could pull it off. I pulled away from Julia's soft embrace and came across to mother and, kneeling down, leaned forward and kissed her on her scarlet lipsticked lips. This was no peck, but a soft and sensuous kiss of love, gratitude, excitement and a tinge of pure, unadulterated, illicit, incestuously so, lust. Mother responded by giving a long and panting, almost inaudible moan, Her hand slid up and gently, like thistledown, she captured my tittie, caressing softly the silk sheathed mound, palm sliding over a suddenly turgid nipple. My own body, hard under the satin of corset and French knickers, throbbed and I was glad that I had slid it into a condom, so as not to make a mess. I suddenly sensed that Julia was beside me and, as I broke the kiss, she took my place and kissed mother on the lips as well, in a deeply sensuous, lesbian kiss. I found the sight incredibly exciting. It was the first time that I had seen two gorgeous women embracing so, and it was intensely erotic. You know, gentle readers all, as an aside, I wonder if a film of this little tale would ever be made. We can all acquire films of rutting she males and various partners of all genders and dysphorias, but would any one produce a feature film of such a delicate, yet graphic eroticism such as we like. Probably never. The production and costume costs would be too high, and the audience probably too narrow to make money, though I fancy that little Dani from Brazil could play an excellent me. She loves girls too. Still, this does not tell the tale, much as I would like to see it on screen. Come on, producers; see what you can do in an artistic sense, for a change. We at last broke our kisses and caresses, and rose to firstly, repair our make up and then go out, for myself, it was a first adventure out in the open. For a moment I quailed, trembling slightly, but Julia smiled, whispering that it would be alright, that no one would ever suspect anything. It was a balmy, warm afternoon and Harrods was within walking distance. Being midweek, and tourism was not the fashionable thing it is today, the streets were quiet. We knew nothing of gridlocks or traffic calming measures in those heady days of the early fifties, Rover cars, Jaguars, Austin sevens, Rolls Royce's and Bentleys swished sedately down K