Making Mom an Offer
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Flicka free porn video
Flicka
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters
My father had left when I was not yet a teenager. I had only good
memories of him, but our mother prohibited any contact between him and
me or my younger brother. No explanation was ever given. Because any
mention of him sent our mother off in tears or a rage (usually both) we
simply never mentioned him.
The funny thing is that we knew she spoke with him every now and again.
I overheard sometimes. Clearly, he was asking her about us. She would
give him a report, but the calls always ended with her in tears. I
guessed that he was in a new relationship and she just could not accept
that. She had never really had anybody after he left.
So, it was a total surprise when I got accepted for a mechatronics
degree at a college out of state, but without residence on campus, that
our mother announced that our father was living in that town. "Maybe he
can put you up," she said. She gave me an email address and suggested
that I ask him.
I guessed that the email address belonged to his new partner -
felicity78@gmail. But when I wrote I got a message back almost straight
away. "Please stay with me as long as you like. Just a fraction of the
time I owe you. Dad."
It sparked me to ask a bit more about him, but mother would have none of
it. "He must explain," she said. She was happy that I could follow my
dream and that I would be staying "with family" but she still seemed
upset with my arrangements to stay with my father, even though it was
her idea. Right up until I left we did not mention my living
arrangements.
As the time got a little closer, some of the messages from my father
became a little odd to. Things like "I have changed a lot since we were
last together. Be prepared."
Well I was not prepared. I rang the bell and a lady answered the door.
I was just about to say: "You must be Felicity" and then I realised.
This lady was my father. I just stood there open mouthed.
"Have you got a hug for your old dad," sang a surprisingly feminine
voice. The arms were open, so I just stepped into them. There was a
floral perfume in the air. I could feel large soft breasts pressing
against me. It was the weirdest feeling I have ever had in my life.
"Does Mom know? She didn't say anything to me..." I stammered.
"She knows. She disapproves. I understand completely. Your mother is
a good woman. It is my fault that she didn't understand that I was a
woman too."
He, or should I say she, ushered me in. I put my bags down.
"You look a bit shocked," she said. "I quite understand if you think
twice about staying, but if you do I will show you your room and rest of
the house."
If I was a little shaken by the situation, it did not take long for me
to realise that I would be crazy to turn down boarding here. The house
was really close to the Engineering School. My designated room was huge
and light and airy, and equipped with a desk and a double bed. And
there was a big workshop in the back of the garage.
"What do I call you?" I asked.
"People still call me Flick, or Flicka now." It was a name he had
picked up as a firefighter many years before. That was when my father
was the manliest of men. Now there was almost nothing of that left.
This person was still fairly tall (but not as tall as me) but much
slimmer. This person had shoulder length honey blond hair and a pretty
face. It was only the sparkling blue eyes and the strong line of the
chin that allowed me to recognise him, in her.
Flicka moved with a grace that was nothing like I remembered either. He
got me a beer from the fridge and the ingredients for a sandwich,
closing the door with a swing of his hips. I could see that her hands
were feminine, and the nails were shaped rather than long, and covered
with clear polish.
"I need to tell you something else," she said. "I have married again."
"Oh, OK. I look forward to meeting her."
"Not her, silly - him. I have married a man. His name is Mike. He
gets back from work any minute, so I thought I had better warn you."
She presented my sandwich to me with a smile that really threw me. My
father was now a woman and an attractive one. Why shouldn't she attract
a man. The creepy thing is that I found her attractive ... even
arousing. I knew then that he was now she.
"So, Dad, I figure you may have had some surgery on ... you know...."
"Oh yes," she said breezily. "I had my gender confirmation surgery
years ago, even before I met Mike. And please call me Felicity, or
Flicka, or even Mom if you feel that you can, but not Dad." She smiled
at me as I ate and added: "it's so good to have you here Jason. I
really have missed you. You and your brother. I do hope that you will
stay."
"Sure. I'd love to stay. If it's OK with your ... husband." I ate my
sandwich and had only just finished when he himself stepped in the door.
He was a big guy. Tall and strong and quite good looking I guess. He
thrust out his hand and shook mine warmly and firmly: "You must be
Jason, Flicka's son. And our new boarder." He left me in no doubt that
I was welcome. And with those greetings over he went over to my father
and took her into his arms and kissed her deeply.
She giggled and pushed him off: "Get off. I'm getting dinner ready.
Why don't you show Jason your man cave?"
"Sure," he said. "Come on Jason."
He ushered me to the workshop behind the garage and then down a flight
of stairs. The garden sloped away behind the structure and it had been
dug out to form a room with sliding glass to a paved terrace. It was a
true man cave. A bar with a fridge, a pool table, a locked gun cabinet,
a barbeque on the terrace outside. He grabbed me another beer and
started asking me about my studies. He made me feel right at home.
All I really wanted to ask him about was his relationship with my
father, but I was careful not to push it too hard. I learned that they
had been married for 5 years, that he had met her a year before that,
and that she had told him about her past on their 3rd date.
Responding to my question, he explained: "It was a shock and I walked
out. But I found that I just had to see her again. And when I did I
knew that the past was not important. For me she is and always has
been, a woman. We can't have kids together and that is a shame. But
she has two kids, you included, and I have three from my first marriage.
We both love having them over. It will be great having you here. No
pressure on you to stay, but you are welcome here, as a stepson, and you
can stay as long as you like."
I never doubted it from then on.
That night over dinner I could see how much Mike and Flicka meant to
each other. I have to say that I felt a little envious, of their
relationship I suppose. Or maybe of the fact that he had such a woman
all to himself. She was shapely, pretty and full of life. She was so
feminine, but she could talk to him about sport with some depth of
knowledge. My father had been an accomplished sportsman in his youth,
and obviously a keen sports follower since.
That night they had sex. I knew it because I thought I overhead
something and I sneaked into the hallway to listen at the door. I had a
clear image in my mind of Mike fucking my father in his man-made vagina
while she wrapped her legs around him. I could hear the grunts and
moans and it was clear that this was good sex. Maybe better than any of
my efforts over the past year or so.
I enrolled at the college and attended my classes, but in downtimes I
kept thinking about my father, about Flicka. She had become in my mind
a kind of sex goddess. I know that this sounds really weird, maybe even
taboo as some kind of incest fantasy. But for me, I had only just met
this woman and I found her fascinating beyond all understanding.
Perhaps it was the fact that there was a man in there somewhere that
caused the fascination, but I really could not see my father. All I saw
was the woman.
At home I would jerk off thinking about her. I would imagine her pussy
where the penis had once been. The fact that it was the penis that had
fathered me was not preying on me. But it was still not a healthy
fantasy. That does not mean that I could make them stop.
I had a look at some tranny porn, but that did not satisfy me. I could
not get out of my head the vision of my father with tits and a pussy.
It became an obsession. I could talk happily to Flicka and we could sit
down over dinner and talk about the day, but I kept looking at her
crossed legs or her glorious bottom, and wondering about what lay
nestled between her thighs. I just had to see it.
One Sunday I was drinking beer and playing pool with Mike in his man
cave when the subject of sex came up. It was not about Flicka but he
added: "I suppose that it must be weird for you that I am having sex
with ... you know, your dad."
"Is it weird for you?" I asked. "I mean, I know that you love her, but
is it strange knowing that she was once a man?"
"I just can't see it," he said. "I have only ever known her as a
woman."
I wanted to ask him what it was like to stick his penis into that vagina
made from an inverted penis. It was as if I really needed to know that
kind of detail. Why?
"I need to go away for a couple of months," he said. "I have an
installation in South America and I need to be on the job until turnkey
handover. I am asking you to look after Flicka while I am away. To see
that she gets everything she needs."
"Sure," I replied. "I'm family after all."
But I did not feel like it. My father had been family. Flicka was
something else. I knew that she loved me as a parent loves a son, but I
could not love her as a son loves a parent. But I adored her. That is
the word. Like a moth adores a flame.
...
(Just the first part)
© Maryanne Peters 2019
Avriella
- 03.06.2021
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