Life Anew

"Mom, this cousin Frank. Just how closely related are we?" Jack asked.

"His dad and my mom were first cousins, I think. No, I'm pretty sure," Emily mused. "Why?"

"Mom, I'm looking at a picture of him and I could swear it's a picture of me," Jack said. "It's kind of weird!"

Huh," Emily said. "Oh, listen Sweetheart, I've got to go; I'm being paged. Love you."

There were some suits hanging in the closet, some very nice shirts and some beautiful ties. There were also some very elegant gowns, a few stunning little black dresses and a very soft, fluffy robe hanging on the other side of the closet.

The bathroom had an extensive collection of cosmetics neatly arranged. The large walk-in shower had some very pretty smelling shampoo, some very pretty smelling body wash, and a large tube of depilatory cream.

One dresser drawer had some plain white tee shirts and some plain boxers. The other five drawers held women's lingerie, women's panties, bras, some pantie hose still in their packages, unopened.

Jack ran his hands over the negligees in the top drawer and shivered at the feeling of the silky material.

He found a few pairs of panties still in their Babbage's bags, tags still attached. They were soft, silky against his fingertips. He saw that they were all thong style panties.

He opened the nightstand drawer, then slammed it shut again. In that brief moment, he'd seen a huge black dildo and a few other items. But he'd not looked long enough to see what those other items were.

On top of the chest of drawers was a jewelry box. Jack opened the box and saw quite a few bags.

"Oh!" Jack said, seeing the strand of lavender pearls.

There were also a long strand of white pearls, a shorter strand of white pearls and a set of quite large white pearls.

"I wonder if Frank was ever married?" Jack asked out loud.

There were clothing of a more casual style in the chest of drawers. Only one drawer had any men's clothes. Jack couldn't help but smile at this.

"Uh huh, typical woman," he quipped, glad that his mother and Bernice were not around to hear him say this. "Here, Honey, I'll clear out this one drawer for you, okay? What? You need more room? Oh well, too bad."

Emboldened, Jack again looked inside of the nightstand drawer. The huge black dildo was quite imposing indeed. There were a few other dildos and vibrators, as well as a large tube of lubricant. There were also two strands of anal beads.

"Hmm, well," Jack mused.

He used a bathroom towel to grab each item, dropping them onto another towel. Then, folding the four corners of the towel, he carried the towel to the garage. Without fanfare or ceremony, Jack dumped the sex toys into the garbage can.

In one of the bedrooms, Jack found some photo albums. He flipped through, but did not recognize anyone other than Frank and his mother in any of the photographs.

There was an entire album devoted to a beautiful woman that looked vaguely familiar. In most of the photographs, she was elegantly dressed, wearing pearls. In a few, she was more naughtily dressed, stockings, garter belts, negligees, a merry widow, a baby doll.

The closet in this room held Christmas ornaments.

The third bedroom had nothing of any interest in the nightstand, or dresser drawers, or in the closet. There were some winter coats in the closet by the front door, and a vicious looking shotgun, as well as a box of twelve gauge shells.

The armoire opened up, displaying a flat screen television. Jack sat on the plush couch and turned the television on.

'INPUT' flashed on the screen. Jack puzzled over this for a minute, then pressed 'ENTER' on the remote control.

"Sissy Sluts" appeared on the screen. Jack giggled.

"Uh huh, Cousin Frank," Jack smirked.

"Mm, oh, yeah, bitch, suck that dick, like sucking that dick huh?" a well-endowed man grunted as a gorgeous blonde stroked his cock, noisily slurping up and down the length of the cock.

The blonde was dressed in bra and panties and garter belt and stockings. The man, however, was totally nude, except for his black socks.

"Now, come on, Tiffany, remember, you promised me a piece of ass," the man said.

"Oh, all right," Tiffany said, getting to her feet.

The man and woman kissed, using plenty of tongue as they did so. Then Tiffany stepped back and unhooked her bra. Her large breasts bobbled free and the man started fondling them. They again kissed very passionately, the man roughly fondling the woman's breasts, the woman stroking the man's large cock.

"Come on, Baby, I need fuck you," the man finally ordered.

Tiffany smiled and eased her panties down and off her stocking covered legs.

Jack sat, face wrinkled in confusion. The blonde woman had a little tuft of brown, not blonde hair. And she had a fat cock and two heavy balls.

The two actors again kissed passionately. Then Tiffany turned and braced herself against a desk.

The man grabbed his cock, placed the head of his cock against the blonde's anus, and pushed it in.

The camera shifted from a close up of the cock entering the stretched rectum to a side view. The camera focused on Tiffany's grimacing face.

"Huh!" Jack said.

"Oh yeah, Baby, that's it, God you fill me up," the blonde hissed.

Within a minute of forcing his cock into the transsexual's ass, the man was pounding in and out of her at jackhammer speed.

"I'm uh, oh, I'm getting close, Honey," the man grunted.

The blonde pulled off, turned, and again started sucking and stroking the man's cock.

"After it, oh! Ugh! It was just in your, oh that's disgusting!" Jack cried out as the blonde sucked and stroked the cock with enthusiasm.

Jack watched as the man's cock erupted in a torrent of semen. The blonde opened her mouth wide, still stroking the cock as it coated her face with sticky gobs of semen.

Jack went to turn the television off. But he accidentally hit a number on the key pad and the screen went black and there was a whirr and a click. There was another whirr and another click.

"Gym Time" flashed on the screen. Jack watched as two muscle bound young men kissed passionately, then swung into a sixty nine and started sucking each other's cocks.

He nearly screamed when his telephone gave a ring. Quickly, he hit the 'MUTE' button on the remote control.

"Hello?" he croaked.

"Hi, this is John Farmer. George's Garage?" a pleasant sounding voice said. "Okay, looked over the car; the tires? Dry rotted, I'm afraid. So, going need a new set; you going want them whitewalls like that? Would need special order them. Of course that's entirely up to you.

"No, kind of thought they looked a little tacky," Jack said. "Regular tires would be fine."

"You sure? Can have them in tomorrow afternoon," John said.

"No, I'm, well, um oh go ahead, get them," Jack said.

They agreed on the price; Nicole had said with all the accounts, he had nearly ninety thousand dollars at his disposal.

With the television now showing the first two men thrusting in and out of the mouth and ass of a third man, Jack reached down and tried to adjust his throbbing cock into a more comfortable position. He grunted, then shuddered as his semen pulsed from his hard cock, filling his briefs.

At six thirty, Jack turned off the television and entered the kitchen. Taking a frying pan down, he very quickly whisked together a simple ham and cheese dish. He blanched some green beans in a second saucepan, then diced green pepper and onion for his ham dish.

"Well, cousin," Jack said to the silent house. "Looks like we got a few things in common."

After his dinner, Jack again called his mother and described the house. He described the small town, what he'd seen of it so far. He described the car.

"It was white?" Emily asked. "With real crazy tail fins on it?"

"Yes, I believe, I mean, I really didn't get a good look at it," Jack agreed.

"Oh my God, I'll bet that was Aunt Louise's car. Aunt Louise; that was Frank's mom; I'll bet that was her car. Thing was like a mile long," Emily laughed.

"Then that's it," Jack laughed.

They chatted for a few more minutes. Emily told Jack that Frank had been a chef in a few restaurants, but then had started working off-shore, as a cook on various oil rigs.

In restaurants, Frank was barely able to pay his bills and the hours were borderline insane. But, off-shore, he was making three, four times as much money, and had a week off after each two week shift.

Jack also talked with Brad for a few minutes. Again, he described what he could remember of the car, described the small town, described the house.

"I uh, listen, call us every now and then, okay, Son?" Brad finally said, voice a little sad. "Let us know how you doing, what's going on, okay?"

"Wait, what?" Jack asked.

"Jack, three times. Three times, you said 'my house.' Well, Buddy, sounds to me like you've made up your mind," Brad said.

"I uh, I guess I have, huh?" Jack said, a tear sliding down his cheek.

"Know I don't say this a whole lot, but I uh, I love you, Boy," Brad said.

"I love you too Dad," Jack sobbed out.

Jack could feel his underwear beginning to stick to his skin; he'd blown a few loads into them. He decided to change out of dress clothes and into his jeans, or even his pajamas.

"Oh, damn it!" Jack realized, his suitcase, his clothing was still at the DeGarde Inn.

Rapid Cab said they could have a cab to his house in about thirty minutes. The dispatcher gave him a guesstimate that round trip from driveway to DeGarde Inn to driveway would be roughly thirty, maybe thirty five dollars.

"Okay," Jack agreed, having five twenties in his wallet.

"Evening," the cab driver said.

At the motel, the desk clerk smiled and said that the bill had already been taken care of; they had an account with Coutre & Associates. Jack politely thanked her as he scurried to the front door.

"Hope you enjoyed your stay, ma'am," the clerk said.

"Damn it," Jack wanted to scream. "I'm a boy."

"Ready?" the driver said, already putting the car in drive.

Once home, Jack made sure that all doors were locked and the curtains firmly closed. He found an unoccupied wooden hanger and hung his suit jacket and trousers. His shirt and socks, and after a long moment, his now dried micro-briefs went into the laundry hamper.

Looking down at the little tuft of brown pubic hair, his small cock and small pouch, Jack thought of the pornography he'd watched earlier. His cock immediately swelled and stuck out.

"But it was faggot stuff," Jack argued with himself, even as his thumb and fore and middle fingers grasped his hard cock.

Quickly, he fished his briefs out of the hamper. In two more strokes, he was again filling his briefs with another sticky ejaculation.

A check of his suitcase revealed no clean briefs. His backpack held his phone charger and his dirty clothes, but no clean briefs.

"Hope we're the same size, Cousin," Jack thought and pulled open the drawer with Frank's boxers and tee shirts.

"God, that's just wrong, wearing someone else's drawers," Jack said aloud. "I didn't even know the guy."

He remembered the bags of panties. After a long moment, he pulled the drawer open and pulled out one of the bags.

"But they're, these are women's'," Jack thought, glancing inside the bag.

His slender fingers lightly rubbed the bright red ones. The silky material actually made him shiver.

"No, I can't," Jack thought and put the bag on top of the dresser.

Again, he pulled open the drawer with the tee shirts and boxers.

"Well, why not? They're clean. And they'll be covered by your pajamas," Jack thought and fished out the bright red panties.

He used his teeth to bite the plastic strand that fastened the tag to the small 'Care Instructions' tag. He then sat on the edge of the bed and slid the panties up his slender legs.

"Ugh!" Jack shivered, eyes open wide as the silk came in contact with his small ball sac, his painfully hard cock.

"Oh!" Jack gave a long shudder as he wiggled the thong strap between his buttocks.

Jack fished his pajamas out of his suitcase. He put them on the bed but hesitated in putting them on.

"They need to be washed," Jack said. "I wonder if Frank had any men's jammies?"

There were none. Jack decided to wear one of Frank's tee shirts. His hand slid open the drawer with the negligees instead. He found a bright red silk sleepshirt with Oriental style brocade.

"Ugh!" Jack shuddered and spurted a thick stream of semen into the crotch of his panties as he felt the cool, smooth silk caress his skin.

A hard hammering on the door woke Jack. Disoriented, he pulled on a fluffy robe and staggered down the hall toward the source of the hammering.

"What?" Jack snapped at the man standing on his small porch.

"Stockton. Here cut your grass," the man snapped. "Need you call Ms. Banks, let her know we're here, okay lady?"

"I'm ... Yes, fine," Jack snapped and slammed the door.

He'd almost told the man he was no lady, but he remembered what he was dressed in. He looked at Cousin Frank's ornate clock and saw that it was right at seven o'clock.

"Ms. Banks? This is Jack Matthews. Stockton is here now, cutting the grass," Jack left a message for the office.

"Need do laundry," Jack said. "Up now, might as well."

He dragged the hamper down to the garage. As he moved, the silk sleepshirt brushed his flesh, teased his flesh, caressed his flesh. Jack was in a constant state of arousal as he worked.

As the lawnmowers and weed whackers droned and hummed outside, Jack quickly made himself some coffee and decided on apple pancakes.

After breakfast, after cleaning up, Jack transferred clothes from washer to dryer.

In his bathroom, he slipped the sleepshirt up and off. Then he saw himself in the mirror. A sexy, flirtatious vixen wearing nothing but a red thong stared back. His cock, which had been semi-erect quickly expanded to almost painful erection.

"Clothes aren't dry yet," Jack justified to himself as he strutted, dressed in only red thong panties from bathroom to bedroom.

He dug through the Babbage's bag and pulled out a baby blue pair of panties. He then looked through the chest of drawers at Frank's jeans, his pullover shirts.

Then he slid open the drawer above and looked at the low-rider jeans. He didn't comprehend how to translate men and women sizes, but shrugged and pulled the low-rider jeans out.

"Oh, Bernice would be so jealous; their button fly," Jack thought as he pulled the jeans up.

"Maybe a half inch big," Jack thought, checking the waistband.

"What they make belts for," Jack said.

In the shower, Jack was about to turn the tap on. Then he read the directions on the large tube of depilatory cream.

"Do not get hear mucus membrane... Well, no kidding? Who would put this stuff near their eyes?" he asked out loud.

"EW, oh," Jack shuddered as he smelled the harsh chemicals.

"And..." Jack said and smeared the thick substance into his legs.

After a moment's hesitation, Jack massaged the cream into his small ball sac, around his cock, and in between his buttocks. He had no chest hair at all so did not smear any cream onto his chest. But he did liberally coat his underarms.

"Oh! Oh shit!" he gasped out loud as his anus began stinging. "THAT'S what they meant 'Don't get near mucus membrane.' Oh! Damn! Damn! Damn!"

Jack turned the shower tap on, jerked the hand held shower nozzle down, bent and pressed the nozzle directly against his anus. He grunted and moaned as the water went from ice cold to very warm, but did not alleviate the stinging in his rectal area.

"Maybe some soap," Jack gasped.

He used a fluffy face cloth to smear the floral body wash onto his raw, burning anus. Jack also noticed the same stinging in his crotch area. Granted, the stinging was not as pronounced, but it was still uncomfortable.

"Well, we won't do THAT again," Jack thought.

He used the pretty smelling shampoo to lather his long hair. As he worked, he did notice that the burning, stinging pain in his genitals had abated slightly. There was a tube of moisturizer on the vanity; Jack planned to apply that after completing his shower.

The lotion did soothe his chemically induced pain. Applying the perfumed lotion into his legs and his underarms, Jack marveled at how smooth his skin felt. He had not had much hair on his body to begin with, but now, his skin felt sleek, silky.

Sliding the panties up his sleek legs, Jack shivered in pleasure. The jeans were very soft as well, not stiff like his own jeans.

He selected a black V-neck short sleeved top. He had no idea if the top was designed for a man or a woman; he just knew it felt nice against his skin.

Again, there was a hard knocking at his door. Jack quickly wrapped his wet hair into a towel turban and padded to the door in his bare feet.

"Oops, ma'am, didn't mean get you out your shower. But, we're finished," the same man said. "Guess what happened is we went to Magnolia Lane or Magnolia Street instead of Magnolia Drive, huh?"

"How long have you lived here?" Jack asked.

"All my life," the man said with obvious pride.

"Then you should have known where Magnolia Drive is," Jack said and slammed the door.

"Bitch," the man said.

"Well, I have a right to be a bitch, don't I?" Jack thought as he made his way to the garage to check on his clothes.

Cousin Frank had a hair dryer in his bathroom. He also had hair gels and various mousses. Jack gathered up the man's hair brushes, combs, and toothbrush and threw those into the small wastebasket. Then he selected a gel, worked it into his long hair and used his own brush to style his hair.

Looking at himself in the mirror, Jack did think it would be easy to question his gender. Looking at the cosmetics of Cousin Frank's unknown girlfriend, Jack tried to remember how his mother, how Bernice applied their cosmetics.

"Cover stick, but I don't..." Jack mused, looking to see if anything needed a dab of concealing.

He applied a light touch of foundation. He then did a little eye liner and nodded. Just like Bernice, the eye liner did frame his eyes.

"Oh, now this is hard," Jack said, trying the mascara. "How do you do this without poking your eye out?"

He used a light brush of rouge and actually smiled at how it seemed to bring out his non-existent cheeks. Then he selected an unopened tube of lip gloss.

"Jesus! What now?" Jack fumed as there was another knock at his door.

"Hi, John Farmer, George's Garage," a handsome middle aged man said, smiling. "Got Mr. Matthews's car ready. He around?"

"I uh, no, uh, he stepped out for a minute," Jack stammered, wondering how to get out of this predicament.

"Oh, okay, well, ma'am, here's his keys; let me tell you, that car? That car is a dream to drive. Mr. Matthews ever wants sell it, tell him give me a call before he calls anyone else, okay?" John smiled. "I'll mail y'all our bill, okay?"

"Uh, thank you," Jack said and watched as John trotted to where another car sat, idling.

His cock was so hard it hurt. But before Jack could pull jeans and panties down, he shuddered and spurted a large load into his panties.

"Really? I wasn't this popular, ever," Jack thought as his cell phone rang.

"Hi, Mr. Matthews, this is Polly Chastaine, Nicole's PA?" a pleasant sounding voice greeted him. "So Stockton managed to finally come out, huh?"

"Uh, yes," Jack said. "And Ms. Chastaine? I do not want to ever use them again, okay? They were rude. And, get this. Tried to tell me they must have got the wrong street."

"Oh. Really," Polly said, her sarcasm evident.

"Uh, Ms. Chastaine? Does Ms. Banks have any time available today? I, there's something, I think I'm going need her help on something," Jack stammered.

"Two o'clock work for you?" Polly asked.

"Works beautiful," Jack agreed.