Jenny Wren Ch. 01

"Too much hair," I told him. "Pretty girls don't have all this:" I pinched some of his fine chest hair in my fingers and yanked. We'll have to get rid of it, but that's for another day. First, go back to your mother's drawer and see if there's a suspender belt matching these:" I held up the underwear.

"Yes, there is, Gaygan."

I looked at him with a knowing grin. "Checked it out already have you? OK, you'll need another pair of nylons, too." I was just about to deliver a third slap when he turned back, kissed me and pinched my bum. He was learning.

I was back sitting on the bed by the time he returned. I told him to start and he picked up the panties.

"No Clive. Suspenders first." He dropped the pants then struggled a little to get the belt fastened around his waist. "Now the pants." From the look on his face I knew he was enjoying the sensual pleasure of pulling on his mother's undies. Looking down I noticed his erection getting close to full.

"I see Periscope Percy is getting in on the act again. He's insatiable. Down boy!" I told it, delivering a hard rap across the head with the flat of my nails.

"Ouch!" he flinched then watched as the tumescence died away. "But thanks, I think. Maybe it's Periscope Petey, not Percy, saying 'Hello'?" He suggested tentatively.

"What a lovely thought, Clive. Yes, that's it!" I bent over, kissed the tip of his dick – savouring the shiny wetness – and said, "I dub thee Periscope Petey. Now don't you dare!" I pointed a stern finger at PP as it twitched at my kiss.

"You're a witch," he said, "That was magic how you did that. Hurt a bit but it was almost nice in a way."

"You're beginning to see already, Clive, how pain in the right context can bring pleasure. Let me show you. Come, get that little footstool and sit here in front of me." I spread my thighs open. He sat up close as he was told and I could sense his nervousness. "Will you trust me, lover mine? Kiss me." I looked him in the eyes, not to dominate just to show him my love.

He closed his mouth over mine and his kiss sent tingles down my spine. He kissed like ... no I won't say it again. This was getting weird.

I started to caress his chest, squeezing the muscle as if it were a breast and letting my nails dig in a little. Not too much, I didn't want to scare him off, just enough to 'bite'. I scraped my nails over his erect nipples, slowly dragging them down as they caught under the nails. I took a firm grip on both his nipples then squeezed as hard as I could, pulling them out to give him small cone-shaped tits. His tongue inside my mouth just stopped in its tracks for a couple of seconds until I released my grip then it was suddenly trying to probe half way down my throat.

I felt down below and sure enough, Periscope Petey was rampant again and I knew I had him. Parting our kiss and pulling on PP I said, "We're never going to get you looking pretty again with this. What do you want me to do with it?" Somehow I knew the old flick wouldn't work with this erection.

"Will you suck it again please, my love?"

It thrilled me to hear him say 'my love'. "I love having my face fucked. Would you like to fuck my face, lover?"

"Oh, yeah!" His eyes lit up and he helped me scrunch around until my head was hanging over the edge of the bed.

"Please, darling, take it slowly at first and don't forget I have to breathe. Now fuck me."

He was slow and gentle putting it in, allowing me time to accommodate him and stifle the reflex. I put my hands round his buttocks to guide him and when he was all the way in, ignoring the twinges in my shoulder, I reached back and began stroking his bum in rhythm with him stroking his prick in and out of my throat. My lover's instinct was amazing, got his timing perfect first time. I kept stroking his bum, now and then straying over his anus. He flinched slightly the first couple of times then relaxed as I began to stray more often until I had one finger circling around his tight little hole. I sensed he was close to coming so I started drumming my fingertips right on his anus and his full load squirted deep in my throat to spread tingling right through my body.

I eased him back out, then twisted my head so I could clean his tool properly: I wanted to taste some of it.

"How do you know what to do, Gaygan?" he asked when we had got me sitting up again and he was on the stool in front of me, idly playing with my breast with post-coital content. "If you'd told me you would be playing with my arse I'd have said, 'No way, Jose'. I'm not gay just because I like to dress in ladies' things. But Gaygan, that felt like ... I don't know, I've never felt like that before. How do you know what to do to me?"

"That works both ways, darling. That was as good a face fucking as I've had – and I've had more than a few. Clive, you are so much like my husband, I just KNOW how you'll react. I do to you what I would do to Petey if he were here." I shrugged. "Crazy isn't it. I'm just going with the flow so far."

"You keep talking of Petey. Would you like to tell me about him?"

I sighed as a lifetime of memories flitted across my mind. "Yes, I'll tell you about Petey. But first let's get you prettied up. Kiss me ... now where were we? Oh yes, you need to straighten your suspenders. You threw your knickers over there."

He had no problems with Periscope Petey this time as I showed him how to thread the straps through his pants. He was purring as I showed him how to roll the stockings up his legs and fasten them to the suspenders. He'd got the hooks of his bra in the wrong place so I fixed him then padded his boobs out with stockings, pinching his nipples 'en passant'. I showed him to open the buttons and step into his dress rather than struggling over his head.

"Next step, my dear, is to do your face. I don't keep many cosmetics these days," I indicated my wrinkled old face and shrugged. "Never mind, your mother probably has all we need. Help me up." I kissed him when he had me on my feet. Then he wrapped his arm round me, hand on tit I was happy to notice, and helped me walk to the master bedroom.

He got me a chair and placed it next to the dressing table chair. I looked through the cosmetic drawers and selected what I needed which wasn't a lot. Nothing overdone on this face, I thought and proceeded to apply a very light foundation with an invisible brush of colour to his cheeks, just a hint of colour around the eyes to complement his lovely deep brown. A flick of mascara enhanced the lashes and he was done. I fluffed out his hair as well as I could, fished out a pair of light clip-on ear rings then turned him to look in the mirror. He gasped at the reflection of a very pretty young girl.

"Tomorrow we'll do it properly," I told him. "This is just temporary but you'll do for today. Let's get back to my room and get comfortable."

Chapter 3: Petey's story.

I don't know who was helping whom the most as we made our way back He had his arm around me again but he was still unsteady on those heels. Soon we were both on my bed, sitting with our backs against the head rest.

"We knew each other all our lives, me and Petey," I began. "He lived in the next street, we went to school together, we dated, we explored each others' bodies, he took my cherry and I was his first lover. We just did everything together. We were only 17 when we got married but we both knew that's all we wanted. Life wasn't always easy and we had our rows – honestly, Clive, if anybody tells you they don't argue with their spouse, I'll show you a lifeless marriage. Lesson, Clive: The loveliest thing about an argument is the making up.

Petey and I both loved sex and were open-minded about everything. We were lovers even before we were married – and in those days that was a 'naughty-naughty' but we were careful and there was no child in my belly when I walked down the aisle.

"We struck up a friendship with one of Petey's work colleagues and one day when we'd had a lot to drink we swapped partners, Mark screwed me as Petey screwed Sonia on the floor right next to us. Sonia and I kissed each other while the men had their way with us. That was really the start of it. We swapped with other couples, then it was three couples and so on. God we had some wild parties where anything goes.

"One such was a fancy dress party and we decided to go as a whore and her pimp. At my suggestion and just for fun, he dressed as the whore. I had him practising in 4" pumps for a week before the party. But he was an instant success and very much in demand from the men. He didn't hesitate; he took them on, sucking them and even enjoyed getting his arse fucked. He screwed me into the mattress when we finally got home even though I'd had my fair share of the men and women at the party. Would you think that made him gay, enjoying having his are reamed out? No, it was just his, our, way of enjoying a wild libido.

"If either of us had a fantasy, we would act it out: anything from him exposing my body to strangers to making love in the open where we might (and sometimes did) get caught. He even arranged for my rape fantasy to come true. We were caught, or so I thought, by seven big men. Two of them held a struggling Petey back threatening to beat him half to death if I didn't fuck them. Even though I was terrified while they made me strip and lined up to gangbang me one after the other. I noticed out the corner of my eye Petey joking with his 'captors', my screams in the ordeal were of pleasure but it wasn't until Petey himself got between my thighs that I was fully convinced about what had happened. He had arranged for these members of the local rugby team to waylay us. OK, had that happened for real, it would have been devastating but Petey's love made it right for me, for us.

"What I'm trying to paint, Clive, is a picture of two very sexually active young people enjoying themselves without limit. I'm not saying we were out partying and fucking strangers every night, but those special times were always so exciting and we had each other for the rest of the time.

"That is what sex between two devoted lovers can be. It doesn't have to be exclusive although many couples are faithful to each other all their lives. And that's fine if that's what suits them. Whatever you do, as you grow up, Clive, do it with a heart full of love."

"Your Petey sounds like quite a man," he said thoughtfully. "Do you want me to be like him?"

"You're already very much like him: just be yourself. But Petey took a lifetime to discover himself fully – we never really stop learning. But you, my sweet, are just starting your journey of discovery. When did you start dressing in your mother's clothes?"

"I've been borrowing her knickers for a couple of years – I love the feel of the material round my dick as I wank. You don't mind me saying those kinds of words?"

"I've never understood why this stupid language of ours says it's OK to call something by a long Latin word when our Anglo-Saxon heritage gives us a rich variety of shorter or better but forbidden words which mean the same thing. I've got a cunt, pussy, fanny, love tunnel, honey pot ... I could give you so many names for what I've got between my legs, all of them sound more exciting than the sterile 'vagina'. Likewise I have an arse, I've got tits, I piss, I shit, I fart and yes, I also wank. Well, I used to. Say what you mean: there's too much repression in this old world. But go on, you like to wank into the material, and I bet your mother knows: my son never managed to hide his traces on my knickers. When did you first put them on and when did you start on the bra?"

"I've been putting the panties and bra on, oh, months now. Today I was going to wear a dress. I thought I had the house to myself, forgetting all about you."

"What's your girlfriend's name, Clive?" I asked, changing the conversation to a different track.

"Sandy," he replied.

"I'd like to meet her. Do you think she would come if I invited her for dinner tomorrow? Phone her now and ask her. Does she like you wearing women's underwear?"

"No she doesn't."

"Does she know?"

"Of course not."

"Have you ever discussed it with her, even on a theoretical basis?"

"No way. She'd say it was gross."

"You seem so sure for a man who never asked the question. Lots of women are actually turned on by it. Like my sister-in-law, for example: she had an orgasm on the spot when Petey and I took my brother away and brought him back as a woman. Oh yes, Clive, I've had my brother many times, and my father, too." I smiled reminiscently. "He was very strict, my father, and often punished me when I 'led him astray'. Being a school teacher, he was a magician with the cane – back in those days teachers were allowed, encouraged even, to maintain strict discipline and a lick of the of the cane across the seat of a boy's trousers made him think twice before being naughty again. Once I couldn't sit down for a week but I just couldn't stop coming as he beat me silly. And then I had to kneel and suck his prick when he'd finished." I pulled Clive's hand down to my pussy: "You can see how wet I am just thinking about that.

"Don't get me wrong, Clive: I'm not a pain slut who needs pain to get off and that wicked beating only ever happened once but it was the right time and the right place and we both wanted it. That's an important lesson: willing participation in whatever you do.

"But back to Sandy. Don't put words into her mouth to match your own prejudices. You really don't know, lover boy. Grab that phone and invite her to dinner with us tomorrow."

He called her and after chatting for a couple of minutes he asked me what time she should come and if I had a dress code. I asked for the phone and said, "Hello, Sandy. This is Gaygan, Clive's great grandmother. You've made an old lady so happy, it will be lovely to have you here. Clive has been telling me about you. No, my dear, he's given you a good report. If you can get here for five o'clock then we can have a good long cocktail hour and girl talk before dinner. No dress code, just be comfortable." I chuckled, "Or turn up starkers and give him a heart attack. Really nice to talk to you too: look forward to seeing you tomorrow at five. I'll turn a blind eye if you want to stay with Clive for the night. Bye 'til tomorrow, darling. Huggers.

"That's settled then." I said to Clive. I rolled over to put the phone back on the bedside table and felt a very tentative smack on my bottom. I turned my head and smiled.

"Do you really like that, Gaygan?"

"Yes, it makes me horny as hell." He smacked again. "But when you do it, it it needs to be done properly: I need to feel it. Can we leave it for now, unless you really want to? I promise you will spank my bum, but later, OK?" Satisfied with that promise, he gave my bum a final firm slap then allowed his hand to linger over my buttocks in a gentle caress.

Chapter 4: Stormy afternoon.

I enjoyed his soothing stroking for several minutes then turned to look at him. He really did 'look the part' in his mother's clothes. With a sigh I told him that we should eat to keep up our strength. It was almost lunch time and we hadn't had any breakfast. He left to brew a pot of tea and make up a plate of sandwiches while I got dressed. I'd suggested we eat on the patio in the sunshine: the whole property was shielded from public eyes.

I was thankful we were enjoying a heat wave so I could ignore the thermal underwear lying at the bottom of the drawer. I picked out a pair of demure black cotton panties trimmed with lace and the matching bra, I knew, would give my breasts all the help possible to make the best of my cleavage. I pulled a floral cotton print dress round me, deliberately leaving buttons open top and bottom and fastened the matching belt. Slipping into light sandals, I made my way to the bathroom for a couple of painkillers to ease my twinges then slowly downstairs.

Clive passed carrying a plate of sandwiches from the kitchen to the patio wearing his mother's apron round his waist. He paused to give me a buzz on the lips then left me trailing in his wake. The table was set with two chairs comfortably close, facing into the sun. Bless him: my shades were lying next to my plate setting. I sat down and gratefully shut out the sun's glare then reached out and poured the tea for us both. We sat back munching on the sandwiches and sipping at our tea in quiet companionship.

When the plate was bare and the pot drained of its last drops, Clive cleared the dishes away and returned minus the apron. He asked if I'd like to relax in the shade and helped me to the lounger in the shade of an old apple tree near the bottom of the garden, a lazy breeze stirring the heavy air just enough to give welcome cooling caresses. Clive went back to the house and returned with a cooler bag holding chilled mineral water. I watched him walking down the lawn looking every inch a pretty girl. He blushed a little when I complimented him. I noticed he had discarded those heels and was wearing more sensible sandals – a little heavy for a lady but passable. He set up another chair next to me and we sat there holding hands, chatting amiably.

The conversation ranged far and wide but I slowly teased out of him some of his fantasies. Inevitably we talked about incest, both of us realising he was my direct descendant even though we were three generations apart. I told him how I felt about the taboo: he knew I had slept with my father and brother. I explained that so long as there was no offspring from the relationship, it was the same as sex between any two adults, with just that added piquancy of the taboo. The law was just slow in catching up. I had always been very careful with my contraception and no family sperm ever got near fertilizing my eggs.

As we had talked, the sky had been slowly filling with clouds behind us. The air was now still and humid, frosting the cool water glasses each of us held. The insects buzzing and humming about us were the only sound except distant rumblings in the sky then the sunlight suddenly disappeared. A sudden gust of wind swirled around us: the sky overhead was quickly turning black. Big fat splats of water were peppering the leaves above us and they rapidly built up to a tropical downpour.

Clive helped me out of my chair and was trying to hurry me back to the house but within a few steps we were both soaked to the skin. There came two brilliant flashes almost simultaneously followed closely by two massive cracks of thunder. My heart was beating with excitement: I stopped Clive, kissed him passionately and asked him to lay me on the wet grass and make wild love to me in the rain.

For a brief second we held each other at arm's length. The rain had moulded his dress to the contours of his underwear; the light cotton almost transparent in the sluicing water. I felt my dress clinging to me and knew I was just as exposed. I saw the hungry desire in his eyes as he put me gently on my back and started opening my dress, struggling with the buttons until I told him to rip it off. He grabbed the deep collar just above my breasts and tore the buttons open. He dragged my pants off and I felt the rain drumming a tattoo on my skin and my pussy as I spread my legs ready to receive him. He was hitching the resisting dress over his waist and pulling his knickers down to reveal his throbbing erection. The rain and the flashes and the thunder had excited him too: he fell to his knees between mine and we both feverishly guided his flesh into my love tube. He drove into me filling me, his pubic bone jammed against mine then he started humping with long forceful strokes. I pulled my boobs out of my bra and he knelt up, intuitively sensing that I wanted to feel the rain on them, but he maintained his thrusting by pulling my hips over his thighs.