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Josephine

By: Ironrose



Her flesh was so white that it seemed like a freshly fallen snow. Dipping over hills and valleys and splotched with the merest swirl of red where Alexei had thrown a velvet drape over her hips. She reclined on her side, with her hand beneath her head, propped up on an elbow. Her breasts were large, but not overly so. She was not buxom, not like the maids at the local brothel… but she had flesh on her bones. The effect was altogether stunning, her skin so white, and the candlelight shining in the auburn tresses of hair that fell through her fingers and across her shoulder. On her lips there was the barest hint of a smile, quirking with mischievous abandon and making her look altogether devilish. Her eyes were covered by an elaborate mask, her face shielded from his view by midnight blue velvet, faux gems, and ostrich feathers. 

She was the talk of London, this mystery woman, she was a body that everyone recognized… she was that mask. She was the epitome of their desire and avarice; she was the root of their lust. It was rumored that she was a noblewoman who found her kicks in this particular way. It was also rumored that she was just some street slut with a beautiful body. There were rumors that beneath the mask she was hideously scarred; there were rumors that she was so beautiful her looks must be hidden lest the church condemn her for each of the seven deadly sins. She was a much-talked-about mystery… and he, Aeryk deMonteford, had felt a compelling need to see her for himself. 

Her breath hitched slightly as she sighed, moving her hand ever so slightly in order to stifle a yawn before settling back into the exact same position that she'd held a moment before. The light scratching of brushstrokes on canvas caught his attention and he turned his head. Alexei worked with a thick brush, deftly creating each fold and shadow in the only piece of fabric covering the woman's body. He transferred that snowy flesh to canvas with a sure hand and a keen eye and once again Aeryk had to thank the fates that had made Alexei his friend. He turned chocolate colored eyes on the woman again and found that her blue eyes had come to rest on his form. She was so intent upon her inspection that for a moment she didn't seem to realize that he was watching her. When their eyes finally met, it was like a jolt of electricity passed between them. That quirky smile faded from her lips and she looked disconcerted, almost afraid. Aeryk took a step forward, hands reaching out to touch her…

"Aeryk!" 

The sharp word, spat into the darkness of the boudoir, stopped him in his tracks. He glanced over his shoulder at Alexei. The man glared at him with a venom unmatched by even the king himself. A slight shaking of his head was all it took for Aeryk to repress an irritated sigh and step backwards. 

This had been a condition of his. Alexei had been blackmailed into showing Aeryk his model, this woman… but not without certain conditions. One, Aeryk was allowed to look… but not touch. He was not allowed to speak or pursue the woman outside of this studio. Aeryk… had agreed. Now, he felt like reneging on that promise. 

He idly wondered if he could threaten Alexei with the same secret he'd used before. It would probably work. It wasn't everyday the court found out that one of their most prominent lord's heir… enjoyed boys as lovers. Aeryk thought it through then sighed, he'd pressed his luck with that charge before… he wasn't willing to shatter a friendship that had lasted decades… over a woman. And so he stopped, and looked back… and she was gone. 

He hadn't even heard her move, so silently she'd fled. She was gone, however, and his dark eyes flashed around the studio in a vain attempt to find her. Without glancing back at Alexei, he started forward, jogging toward the door and catching his hand on the jamb. He stood there, brow furrowed in confusion as he looked about. Just as he was about to duck back into the studio, he caught sight of a corner of red, velvet cloth vanishing through a door toward the end of the hall. He started after her, nearly running in his haste to catch her but when he reached that doorway, she was out of sight already. 

Stepping into that room, he noticed an adjoining door and crossed the expanse of floor. Flinging open that portal, he stepped through and followed a stairway downward. The torches were not lit here, the stairway was completely dark but for a streak of moonlight filtering in through roughly hewn windows in the estate wall. His feet trod heavily as he took the stairs two at a time, slipping, he fell and skidded down the rest of the steps with a curse on his lips and a developing bruise on his bottom. Once he came to a halt, he stood and saw her there, draped in the red cloak and standing over him. She seemed concerned, worry glittered in those sapphire eyes. Reaching out, he tried to grasp her, but did not move fast enough. She danced out of his grasp and he listened to the cool slap of bare feet echoing against the stones of the floor. 

Aeryk launched himself upright and followed after her. It was a moment before she realized he was still following. She began to run. Holding the red velvet clutched tightly in her hands, she ran, bursting through the kitchen doorway and out into a small courtyard. The night was cold and there was a fine dusting of snow on the ground. He followed after her. 

She was more agile, flitting away with the grace of a nymph, he clomped after her, his boots crunching heavily in the frozen remnants of grass. Her figure loomed closer and he reached out to touch her back. His fingers brushed the spot just between her shoulderblades and she sprinted then, with the quickness of a doe she ran… and he followed suit. It seemed to him to be a game as old as time, this mating ritual. She lured, he wanted, she denied, he took… 

The courtyard's small width was traversed in moments and she hit a door on the other side. Momentum carried her forward so that she hit the door, her hands out in front of her to brace for impact. Her feet skidded in the snow and she reached for the latch to the door, her frozen fingers fumbling clumsily. She panted, her lungs aching from the air, her breath exiting in a puff of condensation. She glanced back over her shoulder as he approached, and she scrabbled at the latch even harder then. 

God, why had Alexei brought this stranger? But no, he wasn't a stranger… not completely. She'd seen him for years, known his name, his face, the dirty blonde hair that fell haphazardly in his eyes, those eyes… God, those eyes. They were warm, brown, earthy, and held just a spark of mischief. She knew him, Aeryk deMontefort, had known him for the entirety of her two decades on earth. He'd watched her grow up… and he didn't even know it. 

His body slammed into hers, knocking the breath from her lungs and a startled bleat from her throat. He had her trapped there, the wall of his chest pressed against her back with her forehead touching the cold wood of the door. Her hands fell from the latch as he grasped her upper arm and swung her around. She faced him then, with the mask between them. His gaze delved into her eyes, he panted… so did she. 

Their stares locked for an uncountable moment. They just watched, paused, his warmth seeping into her through the velvet of the robe. His hand came up and he touched her face. She turned her head, denying him the privilege of seeing beneath the mask. His finger touched her lips then, giving in to her wish to remain anonymous. Just the barest fleeting touch, the slightest tickling pressure from the very tip of his finger. He touched her lips as they turned blue in the cold, ran his flesh across the tiny drop of glistening moisture that had wetted her bottom lip. His hand cupped her cheek and his thumb brushed across the artificial ridge that hid her eyebrow from his view. He seemed to be trying to fathom the flesh. It was as if he was attempting to fill in the missing gap that was left by the mask. 

His eyes met hers once again and those dark eyes bored into her, making her shiver with cold and a sudden need. A second's pause more, then his lips touched hers. His palm rested on her jaw and he tilted her face upward so that he could drink her mouth. His lips were warm and they spread their fire to her own. His tongue darted out, wetting her mouth and giving her the first heady taste of masculinity. Gentle, at first, the barest touch of mouth to mouth. 

He lifted his head and glanced downward. The red cloak covered all that had been revealed before, all that had been naked to his view. The hand on her jaw slipped downward to rest at the nape of her neck. The other hand slipped within the opening of the cloak and he rested his hand flat on her ribs. She gasped from the chill that his fingers imparted into the warm skin of her belly. His hand roamed upward, cupping a warm breast, kneading the soft, soft flesh and pressing against a nipple that hardened against the chill. 

He found her eyes again, all this time she'd watched him, her breathing slowing by the smallest increments, only to speed up again when his hand delved beneath the cloak. Her eyes were closed now, her head leaning back against the door, the beautiful curls of her hair reflecting the pure, white moonlight. Her skin was so pale, and yet the smallest flush sufficed her cheeks, giving her color. He kissed her again then pulled back, waiting, wondering, asking with his mouth… … if she denied him now… 

But she didn't. Those sapphire eyes opened again and she looked up at him, that smile returned and her hand slipped from beneath the cloak, parting the fabric and giving him a perfect view right down the front of her. Her hand came up, perfect fingers with their beautiful nails. She grasped the back of his neck and jerked his head downward. Passion broke then, and he took her mouth, raped it and felt her moan into his throat. His tongue thrust into her mouth and tangled with her own tongue. Lips meshed and tongues twined. He licked the nape of her neck, then kissed there, sucking at the flesh and bringing the blood to the surface. Marked, she was marked… his… and he would mark her more. 

Her fingers slid into his hair, grasping and pulling, keeping his mouth near her skin, keeping his tongue near her lips. Aeryk kissed her again and she sucked at his tongue, then bit his lip lightly, nipping and pulling. His hands found her ribs and he held her there, the robe parted around both of their hands. The back of his thumb barely brushed against the lower swell of her breasts. Warm, she was so warm. Slipping his hands around to her back he pulled her closer, melding his body to hers and bringing them so close that not a whispered word could pass between them. His hand slipped lower, passing over the soft swell of her buttocks and delving into her passage from behind. She was wet, so warm and slick, and his fingers slipped into her easily. The walls of her passage massaged him and he felt her groan into his mouth. 

His thigh slipped between her legs and she mounted him, moving her hips against him as he thrust his fingers in and out of her. She whimpered and her head fell back, he kissed her neck, kissed her chest then parted the robe to suckle her hardened nipple. His fingers slid free of her mons and he trailed her beautiful cum up her back and around until he lifted the hand from her flesh and moved it to her mouth. At first his thumb rested against her bottom lip and for a second he caught a glimpse of confusion in her eyes before the tip of her tongue slipped out to taste. He forced her then, sliding the finger deeper into her mouth, urging her to suck. Her eyes closed as she tasted the hot musk of her own sex upon his skin. Slightly salty and completely earthy she could smell it as well, and the idea aroused her even more. 

He was hard, rock hard and wanting her. Aeryk tore at the laces that held his pants closed, practically knotting them as he tried to get them open. He was frantic. She sucked on his finger for a moment longer before he reclaimed it, sliding it from her mouth and adding it to the other hand that worked so furiously to unleash his cock. Finally he released himself and groaned as her hands immediately closed around him. His hands grasped her around the waist and he lifted her, pressing her back against the door as her beautiful white legs came about his hips. 

His mouth found hers again as she grasped him around the neck to keep herself steady. He kissed her passionately, near violent in his need to possess her, take her, mark her.

Mine, mine, mine, mine….

He couldn't tell whether that particular mantra was echoing within his head, or throughout the confines of this small courtyard. He didn't care. He just took himself in hand and positioned himself at her entrance. She froze and his eyes shot up. An errant lock of hair fell across his forehead, making him look as maddened as he was feeling. His lips were hot, swollen, hers were as well. She looked up at him so earnestly, entreating, begging, pleading so innocently… but for what? 

His face contorted with the madness of his desire and, with an animal grown he plunged into her. 

She screamed. 

The sound echoed across the night, wailing through the courtyard with its agony. 

He was buried to the hilt inside of her and she sobbed into his shoulder. Confusion inundated him and he stood there, frozen, staring at the crown of her head and the glorious locks of auburn that fell between them. Her head lifted and one hot tear burned a path down her cheek, finding its way across her lips from beneath the garish mask. She looked up at him, her mouth open around some words that couldn't spill forth. That tear followed the crease at the side of her nose then, and he watched it. Watched as it shone, watched as it trickled over her cheek and onto her lip, following the contour of her mouth around until it settled like Balm of Gilead on her bottom lip. 

He touched it then, with the tip of his tongue, and she closed her eyes, leaning into him. He moved his body, pulling out of her warm sheath, and felt her gasp. He looked down and saw that his shaft was streaked with blood. Their eyes met again. Passion strained, then broke, and instinct made him selfish and rough. He thrust into her again, and held himself there. Aeryk ground his hips into the juncture between her thighs, daring her to take him all. Her body swallowed all of him, drawing him in to the very core of her. He pistoned her then, drawing back and thrusting in again and again and again. 

Her body was crushed between his chest and the door, her legs tightened around his waist. God, she was so warm and wet, like coming home. He pinned her back roughly, his hips and chest keeping her there. Her breasts were flattened against him, so tightly did her hold her. She bobbed up and down with each thrust and he could feel her muscles slowly contracting around his cock. Her cunt was so tight, so eager to take him… made for him…

Mine, mine, mine, mine…. 

Over and over in his head he chanted it, willing her to hear his thoughts and acknowledge his claim. The pain dispelled, she began to feel only pleasure. With each thrust he soothed over the initial jolt that proceeded the rending of her virginity and made her more aware of the sweet, wet friction of two bodies joining. He pounded against her womb, reaching for her inner most depths and trying to split her body in twain. The moist sucking of her passage and the muffled slap of flesh against cloth was the only sound in the courtyard, there was no one around. The moon illuminated the snow and leafless trees cast dark spiderwebs across the ground. 

She panted in his ear, more and more frantically as the moments passed. Her passage tightened involuntarily as she came closer and closer to climax. He pounded harder, furiously, into her virgin passage determined to be the first to spill their seed here. The first…

The only… 

Mine, mine, mine… 

He breath caught in her throat and she bit his shoulder, drawing blood as she tried to hold back her scream. He didn't feel the pain, only her pleasure reverberating through him and shaking him to his core. Her passage convulsed around him, like a tight fist pumping him and begging for his cum. He climaxed then, violently and filled her with his cream. He held there for a moment, inside of her, then slowly thrust thrice more before coming to rest again. 

Her breathing stilled as her orgasm settled into that afterglow lethargy. Her forehead rested against his shoulder, her arms loosely hugging his neck. He kept her pinned to the door, though relaxing his hold somewhat. He gasped and tried to catch his breath but couldn't. She'd stolen that completely. 

A few moments passed before she finally leg go, allowing her legs to slide down his hips and to the ground again. He grasped her, unwilling to release her so soon. She protested, pushing him slightly away. Once on her own two feet, she stared up at him. That magnetic connection was still there. Her swollen lips were closed, warm now from his violent caresses. He seemed as if he wanted to speak but did not… she smiled. It was that devilish smile that choked him and stopped the words from coming. 

She glanced down as she felt the liquid of his desire slip past her labia lips. Slowly she allowed her hand to glide down over her stomach and through the dark thatch of curls that hid her womanhood. Her middle finger slipped into her slit and dipped into her passage. A second later she drew the hand forth again and held it up before here eyes. His white cum glistened on her fingers, marred only by a streak of red that was her virginity… she smiled, and slipped the finger into her mouth, sucking as eagerly as she had upon her own juices. 

He growled deep in his throat and reached for her again. Dancing out of his grasp, she finally managed the latch on the door. Slipping through the portal she felt him grasp her arm again. She turned back and eyed him questioningly, her head cocked slightly to the side. For a moment he didn't speak, then he croaked…

"Your name…" 

She smiled again and shook her head. Lifting one finger, she placed it to his lips.

"Shhh…." 

And she was gone...

Josephine



Thanks to Private_Label and Black Tulip for the suggestions and their time.

July 1916

I knew how much time I had left to enjoy before I went to France. I had what remained of this day, tomorrow and the two nights that separated the daylight hours. That was it and then I'd be off to God knew what. Feeling pensive I stood at the side of the track and looked down at the houses crammed together side by side, the town of my boyhood, the town where I was born. I looked down at the grey sided buildings, with the tiled roofs and myriad chimney pots and I thought back to summers gone by. I grinned despite the leaden feeling in my tummy and thought fondly about those summers past, those times without care or woe, how I wished for them now.

Nearly all my pals had gone off to the front before me; they'd beaten me to it and had sailed out on the crest of a joyous wave of patriotism, surrounded by flag waving and cheers. All except poor Samuel Bragg and he didn't count seeing as he wasn't a pal, he wasn't quite 'right'. Poor old Sammy couldn't even keep his britches on; showing his dick to the girls as simple minded as he was and was the butt of all the kids' jokes, but right then, right at that very moment I envied Sammy's life. At least he wasn't going off to probably get killed, to have his napper shot off by old Fritzy boy. Oh no, Sammy would more than likely be trotting round the town in his clogs and bare arse for the next sixty or seventy years – lucky bugger.

I shook off my cloak of glumness. I had to act happy at least, even if I did feel like the world was about to end; which was a very real possibility at least as far as my individual status within it was concerned. I sighed once and set off down the familiar old track towards home. 

My boots clattered harshly on the cobbles as I walked up past the pub. I cussed at the damned things since I wanted only to be in amongst the familiar surroundings of our little terrace and the bloody noise of the segs and hobnails meant that I attracted attention from within the pub. 

I was greeted by smiling faces, every one wishing me well, and all of them ruddy with the warmth of the day and the pints of ale they'd been supping.

'Ah lad, thah'll be off soon, eh lad?' the common greeting.

I nodded and smiled nervously, still trying to put on a brave face and taking several long pulls at the earthenware jug of tepid ale that had been thrust into my hand. I wasn't used to drink, being scarcely eighteen and I soon felt the effects of the stuff furring the edges of my consciousness.

As I drank I felt the sharp edge of fear and foreboding become blunted and as those anxieties lessened they were replaced in direct proportion by good feeling towards my friends in the bar. It was while I was in the grip of this fleeting good humour that I found the courage, albeit Dutch, to speak to Josephine, the landlord's daughter.

I'd known Josephine all my life. Apparently we'd been friendly as infants, not that I could recall of course, but in later years all throughout school I'd been tongue tied and awkward in her company. Each time our paths crossed and we had any reason to speak I would be overcome by a feeling of oafishness, then with the subsequent embarrassment that I felt since I was sure she must regard me as an idiot. Josephine was to me the embodiment of feminine beauty, a jewel amongst the muck, fair haired and apple cheeked. I'd thought she was lovely for as long as I could recall and the feminine curves that were only hinted at beneath her long skirts and bodice had the power to overwhelm me totally.

Until I was bolstered by the drink that is, until the penultimate day before I set off for war. 

'I'm off soon,' was my opening gambit as Josephine passed by on some errand. 'To have a go at the Hun,' I added to impress. 

'Aye,' the ambiguous reply from the angel in response to my callow boast. 'I can tell by the uniform an' all.' I was too bleary to see the glint of amusement in Josephine's eye as she teased me. 'But...' she continued in a low voice, 'you do look smart in it.'

I watched open mouthed with surprise as Josephine moved quickly away. I wasn't sure I'd heard right, and I was just as unsure about the quick flush of her cheeks as well. I wasn't allowed the luxury of deliberating too long before I was drawn back into the fog and the noise of the bar in general, with a return to the backslapping and toasting of my fellow townsmen.

I managed to dodge the next couple of drinks. It was my second to last night at home and I didn't want to waste it in an alcoholic haze. The men meant well, but they just didn't understand and I took the earliest opportunity to escape the smoky atmosphere and the din of the bar. I went out the back door and blinked at the sudden brightness of the late afternoon sunshine.

'So it got a little too much for you in there?'

I was startled by the unexpected voice; my temporary blindness in the bright face of the sun meant that Josephine's presence in the yard was a surprise to me.

'Aye,' I replied and my mind went suddenly blank as was usual in the company of Josephine.

'The fresh air should help.' Josephine laughed at my expression; no doubt I was looking a little fuddled with the combination of her presence, the sunshine, and the ale sloshing in my belly. 

I finally focussed on the lovely lass when my eyes grew used to the outdoor glare and I felt my breath catch in my throat. I don't know if it was the beer, but Josephine looked even sweeter than she normally did. I'd never seen her looking so beautiful and although I knew I wanted to say something to her, I just couldn't find the words. She laughed again, unfazed by my gormless face and dull wit and I felt myself redden with the embarrassment of appearing so thick yet again.

'When do you leave?' Josephine asked abruptly serious.

'Day after tomorrow,' I replied as her reminder swept the alcohol induced cheerfulness away.

Josephine must have read something in my face because akin with my own feeling of foreboding I saw her smiling face darken. The corners of her oh-so-kissable mouth dipped and some of the earlier mischievous brightness faded from her eyes.

'Are you... scared?' she asked and reached out and placed her palm against the rough khaki serge of my tunic.

Scared? Scared isn't the word that best described what I felt. In truth I didn't really know what the heavy feeling was myself. What I did know was that I felt the hot sting of the tears that threatened when I thought of the possibilities lying before me. My stomach felt like a weight was lodged inside as though it were some sort of balloon filled with a heavy gas, nothing solid or even definable, just a sense of dread coiled in my guts. 

Josephine's blue eyes moved as though she was examining my face. Her expression was one of concern and her flawless brow furrowed with concern.

'If you like...' she faltered. 'If you like, I could write to you.'

A blush coloured her cheeks and decorated the softness of them with a glow that fascinated me. The longer I spent in the girl's company the stronger the attraction of her became. The blush on her cheeks and the shy way with which Josephine bowed her head slightly with embarrassment caused my chest to tighten. From far away I thought I could hear a roar like the sound of the waves breaking on the beaches away over on the Solway and it took me a moment or two to realise that the rush of sound was inside my own head. Josephine was offering to write to me! My heart hammered at the realisation of such a prize and all immediate thoughts of war were banished.

'Don't you want me to write to you,' Josephine asked in response to the protracted silence from me. 'I shan't if you don't want me to.' Her expression changed to huffy at my clueless quiet and I saw the prize being pulled from my fingertips.

'Yes,' I blurted as the realisation eventually dawned. 'Yes, that'd be grand, champion.'

She looked at me a little uncertainly and I was stung by the hurt in her clear eyes.

'Are you sure?' she asked, her face still questioning at my imagined affront.

'Aye, absolutely.' I smiled weakly in an effort to convince Josephine of my sincerity, the weakness of the smile due to the close call I'd just had when Josephine almost withdrew the offer.

Then with an unexpected shift of mood, which I was beginning to see was characteristic of Josephine, she asked me outright if I'd like to go for a walk with her.

'Just along the lane,' she clarified. 'It's a shame to waste the sunshine,' and then with a sideways look at me, 'and you're away day after tomorrow.'

So a few minutes later I was walking alongside Josephine along the very track I'd so recently trodden alone. This time I was walking in the opposite direction and it appeared that my fortune had taken an equal turn. What a changed man I was, where I'd walked so glumly earlier that afternoon I was now as happy as I could be. I was in the company of the coveted Josephine; a prize I had thought was beyond my awkward grasp and the hours I had left at home suddenly brightened with promise. 

We walked up to the spinney and Josephine led the way over the drystone wall via the stile and eventually settled her skirts and sat down.

'Sit here,' she said and patted the grass next to her. 'Come and talk to me, you never talk to me.' I reddened at the reminder of my awkwardness around the girl/woman but I sat next to her nonetheless. 'Why?' Josephine asked once I was sat with enforced stiffness caused by my khaki suit.

'Why what?' I asked disingenuously.

'Why don't you talk to me?' Josephine asked perplexed at my apparent stupidity.

I mumbled and shuffled my backside uncomfortable at her directness.

'What?' Josephine persisted.

'I... I... I don't know,' I managed feebly. My face burned with my chagrin, how could I tell her that I found her beauty daunting? I wasn't any Lord Byron; I couldn't flatter her with prose or sweep her off her feet. Until I joined up I was a farm labourer, a hired man, what did I have to offer a delicate girl like her? She wasn't brought up to a life of robust work such as a farm wife endured, she was worth more in my limited view, much more and I just didn't have the wherewithal to provide the comfort Josephine would need.

Josephine sighed and shook her head. 'Are you frightened of me?' I heard her laugh, a huge laugh of delight and humour that caught me completely unawares. 'You are, aren't you?' She shifted her position so she was looking right into my face. Her eyes studied me intently but I could still see the smirk of amusement on her lips. 

'No!' I almost shouted and then added in a calmer voice, 'Not frightened, I just... I just...' I struggled briefly and then just blurted it out – sod it. 'I think you're beautiful.'

Immediately the words were out I regretted what I'd said. Idiot, I thought. Why tell her that?

'Really, Robert, do you really think that?' Josephine's expression was swiftly serious.

I nodded. I had no inkling of what that revelation would bring, I fact, I'm sure that what did follow was probably the last thing I would have catalogued if I'd been given a pencil and told to write my list.

The kiss was sweetly undemanding. Josephine simply leaned forwards slightly into me and placed her lips against mine. She lingered briefly and then the butterfly winged brush of her lips was gone.

I was stunned by Josephine's boldness. She'd kissed me, kissed me on the lips! If I hadn't been smitten before I was now and I looked into her bright, mischievous eyes as Josephine gauged my reaction.

'Well,' she asked audaciously, 'aren't you going to kiss me now?'

Without really giving me the chance to recover and indeed even begin contemplating kissing her in return, Josephine pushed her body up against me deliberately and kissed me again. This time there was more urgency in the pressure of her lips upon mine, Josephine's mouth pressed against me with a vitality that was well beyond my very, very, limited experience, but a greater shock was still to come. As she kissed me, Josephine's mouth opened and I felt her tongue wriggle between my lips and then squirm inside my mouth.

The shock was huge and immediate, my mind was a whirl of emotion, and the confusion I felt was increased by the sudden, powerful and insistent throb of my cock when it grew stiff under Josephine's offensive. 

The unfamiliar, hot surge of lust that coursed through my body caused me to moan. My vocal reaction to her kiss must have given Josephine some kind of signal because her immediate reaction was to take hold of my flushed cheeks in her palms and kiss me harder still. As she kissed me, Josephine began to make tiny mewling noises in the back of her throat. She was becoming more demanding and insistent and was beginning to cause me some concern.

Remember, I had no experience of women, my attraction for Josephine and my shyness around her in the past meant that this was the first time I'd ever kissed a woman outside of the chaste kisses of female relatives, and of course this was definitely not a chaste kiss.

Suddenly, I found myself on my back with Josephine fully in control. I had recovered a little and was beginning to use my hands against the ripeness of Josephine's curves. The feel of a woman under my hands gave me a sudden power and I managed to lever Josephine over and roll her onto her back. Now I was in the dominant position and after taking a brief moment to study Josephine's animated face I bent to her and kissed her.

'Robert...' Josephine gasped, her face flushed and her hair awry. 'I'm so sorry,' she sighed and looked up at me from below. 'I shouldn't have gotten carried away like that... what you must think of me, but...' Josephine obviously had something on her mind but was struggling to find the words. 'Oh God, Robert,' she whispered and pushed me from on top of her body. 'I don't want you to go... I like you so much...' I was shocked to see Josephine's eyes brimming with tears. 'Why didn't you ever kiss me?' she asked, suddenly vehement. 'You stupid boy...' The fat tears rolled slowly along Josephine's cheek and splattered unheeded onto her bodice. 'Why did you never try?' The question was delivered with a sigh and a soft shake of her head

The tears appalled me; I had no idea how to respond. I could only sit woodenly as Josephine rose quickly to her feet and almost ran to the stile. Before I realised what was happening, Josephine was over the wall and away leaving me staring open mouthed at her as she hurried down the lane towards home.

Bewildered by what had happened I stood up and wiped my hands on the backs of my legs to get rid of the loose grass. I stood there confused and disorientated as though I had just woken from a slumber; I looked up through the trees to find the sun and noticed that the afternoon was just giving way to evening, there were about four hours of daylight left, according to my estimate; time I was going home. I followed in Josephine's hurried footsteps, albeit at a less hasty pace and tried to make sense of what had just occurred. Of course at my age I had no idea whatsoever why Josephine had run off. What had she meant about me having never tried to kiss her? She said she liked me, I remembered that bit, but why run away? With my head full to busting with the quirks of the fairer sex, I trudged home.

Later that evening I ended up visiting the pub again in the vague hope of seeing Josephine. Against the rules I went up in civvies. I was sick of the uniform, especially the bloody boots, spit and polish – my arse, and I doubted that there would be any red faced corporals or sergeants up there to give me an ear bashing.

I didn't have to wait long and my stomach lurched with apprehension when I saw Josephine in the parlour. She looked at me levelly and then calmly walked to me.

'Robert,' she began with her eyes downcast. 'I'm... I'm sorry... I shouldn't have done that, run away I mean, not the kissing, I liked the kissing.'

Her face was beet red at this admission and I felt my face grow hot and flushed as well. What a pair we were.

'Josephine...' I began, but realised I didn't have a clue what to say.

'Let's go for a walk,' she interrupted. 'I promise I won't run off this time.'

So for the second time in the space of just a few hours I found myself being led up the path by Josephine. I hoped that this time it wasn't the proverbial garden path though. Inevitably we arrived at the stile and once more climbed it and entered the woods beyond.

Fortunately, the weather was kind and the evening had turned out to be balmy and pleasant. Josephine paused just beyond the treeline. I thought she was just letting her eyes grow used to the dim light inside the wood, but she caught me by surprise, yet again by kissing me tenderly on the mouth. There was no urgency about that kiss; it was just a light brush of affection but the scent of Josephine caused a reaction within me.

The worm turned and I took hold of Josephine's waist in my hands and pulled her deliberately against me. She uttered a cry of surprise, which was abruptly cut short as I kissed her. There was a tension through Josephine's body before she relaxed and began to return my kiss enthusiastically.

We stayed in that position for a few minutes, kissing each other with a rising passion. Once more my cock was big and hard, I was sure that Josephine must be aware of my high state of arousal with the bloody thing pressing against her body, trapped between us in the tight clench of our embrace.

'Robert...' Josephine whispered during a lull in the battle. 'Robert... Come on, come further in.'

She took my hand and we went deeper into the shadows. The summer's night was a short time away. It was creeping in benignly as it does at that time of year, but Josephine and myself were far too engrossed in each other to notice. Josephine sat and almost pulled me down on top of her. As soon as I was next to her she reached for me with a hunger that caught me completely off guard. Before I knew it I was on my back and Josephine's tongue was twisting insistently in my mouth. She ran the palm of her hand along the front of my britches and gasped with astonishment when she felt my hardness.

'Oh my, Robert,' I heard her whisper. 'May I?'

Without waiting for any reply from me Josephine unbuttoned the front of my keks and had my old fella out in the warm air.

'Josie...' was all I managed before the sensation of her fingers tightening around my girth overwhelmed my senses. Never before had I felt such bliss, a woman's hand on my cock... I didn't realise just how magic it would feel.

'It's so stiff,' her voice was soft. 'It's lovely... it feels so powerful.'

I could only groan as Josephine's fist moved up and down. I didn't know how much experience Josephine had with men, but at that time the thought didn't even cross my mind, I was too far gone to consider the why's and wherefores as she pumped at me quite expertly.

'Josie, please...' I called out as my lust burst from me. Josephine gave another small cry of alarm when she felt the goo splash against her bare forearm, but that cry turned to a murmur of delight when she realised what had just happened.

'I did that to you...' there was wonder in her tone as she spoke. Josephine must have realised the power she had, she could have me almost helpless and begging in her hand if she'd wanted and I think the full realisation hit her in that covert that night.

I lay there on the grass with my cock jutting skyward and my ardour staining the front of my britches. Josephine kissed me again and I could feel her body positively thrumming with her own pent up excitement.

'Feel me,' she offered and shifted her position.

Of course I didn't have much of a clue as to what she meant, but Josephine, guessing I was a novice took my arm and guided my fingers to the spot. The heat and wetness of that place shook me completely. The deep groan from Josephine's throat when I felt the centre of her body shocked me with its primal need when Josephine lifted her hips up to press her wetness against my fingers. I probed inexpertly but found the opening to Josephine's body and was rewarded by her moan of appreciation as my fingers tentatively explored her intimate places.




Josephine



Josephine took hold of my hand and placed my finger against a small nub of skin. Her reaction to the pressure I applied to the spot was alarming and at first I thought I'd hurt her.

'More,' she whispered, 'touch me there more, please.'

I fumbled a little in this unknown territory, but I was guided by the sounds that Josephine made as my fingers moved over her slippery flesh. Josephine's pants and groans became more urgent and she pulled my face down to hers to kiss me heavily again. Josephine was sighing and mewling right into my mouth. She didn't seem to care what noises she was making and I must admit that the sounds of her arousal stirred my lust again.

My John Thomas was big and stiff again and as I manipulated Josephine's sex, I felt her fingers close around the shaft once again. In a confused few moments, Josephine pushed my fingers away from her body and replaced them with her own. She appeared to me to be rubbing at herself and then grunted hugely for several seconds in apparent pain. Still groaning, Josephine pulled me roughly so that I was lying along her front and between her spread thighs. I felt her hand on my stalk and then the head of my cock butted up against some sort of resistance. With a jolt I realised that she was trying to get my cock inside her body and I called out her name.

'Just push, Robert, please,' Josephine urged me and moved her hips back and forwards in a frantic kind of movement.

I did as she said and felt my cock push beyond the obstruction somehow before it was enveloped by my lover's molten heat. I paused, caught in the enormity of what I was doing. The unexpectedness of the situation... Just that afternoon I was full of dread of going of to war and now... Here I was, lying between the widespread thighs of the prettiest girl in the town.

'Do it to me, Robert,' Josephine's voice brought me back to the present. 'Do it to me, I want you.'

It didn't last long. I moved instinctively, moving my hips and thrusting into Josephine. I could feel that I was close and thought to pull out. I knew about the birds and the bees and the consequences of shooting into a woman, but when I tried to pull back, Josephine hooked her legs around my back and held me in place. She was groaning again and I realised that this noise signalled her release, just as I shuddered and poured my second burst into Josephine.

'I've wanted to do that for ages,' Josephine whispered a short time later as we lay together. She had rolled from under me after I'd done it to her and we were now lying face to face on our sides. I could see her face quite clearly now that the three quarter moon had showed its face and I was quite taken by how beautiful she looked.

'I'm sorry,' I said eventually. 'I didn't know, I thought you thought I was an idiot.'

'Why would I think that?' Josephine laughed.

'I could never talk to you, I was always mumbling and bumbling about...'

'Well,' Josephine whispered and snuggled closer, 'now you can talk to me, after what we've just done...'

'Aye,' I whispered, 'I... I've never done owt with a lass before...'

'Shall we do it again?' Josephine's face was mischievous when she spoke. 'I'd like to do it again,' she continued. 'And we've got tomorrow night too, haven't we?' 

'Aye,' I replied, my heart suddenly heavy with her reminder. 'My last night home, tomorrow...'

I felt the tears sting, but instead of fighting them back as I'd be expected to, I let them roll unchecked. I'd just found her, I'd just found her and now I had to go. God, please let me come back... 

Then, after the brief moment of self pity I looked at Josephine lying next to me. I pushed the thoughts of leaving away and instead I made a vow to enjoy every last moment I had at home. I'd just broken my duck, I was a man, and no matter what happened I'd known a woman.

I took control and rolled a giggling Josephine onto her back. She soon became serious however when she realised that I meant to have her again and with a shout of delight she eagerly accepted me between her thighs once again.

*** ***

I saw Josephine to her door and then went reluctantly to my own bed. We'd arranged to meet at a ridiculously early hour in the morning and the excitement I felt at seeing her again meant that sleep didn't come to me that night. I lay in my bed and ran the scenario over and over in my mind. I recalled every subtle nuance of Josephine's love making, I replayed the sounds she made; I recalled the scent of her and relived those couple of hours again and again.

By the time the dawn came I was probably in love. It surely felt like it to me and I was grateful for the light of day since it meant I could be up and about with no cause for anyone to question. I was impatient to be with Josephine again, and found I'd wished the hours of our separation away in spite of the fact that my remaining hours were becoming few.

I met her at the back door of the pub and we spent the entire day together. We held hands and talked as we roamed the hills around the town. In the late morning we visited our spinney for some fun. My shyness had evaporated and I became quite the master during our daylight trysts. As we explored each other we became more adventurous and Josephine was riddled by a fit of giggling when I moved my head between her thighs and tasted her. Her face was scarlet with embarrassment when I popped back into view, but I could tell that she had enjoyed herself and had that fact confirmed when she pushed my face back down to her now not-so-secret place.

We ate nothing during that idyllic day together, the only sustenance we seemed to need was each other as is typical with everyone in that first, heady bloom of love. Each time the spectre of my departure showed its unwelcome face I banished it with bolstering thoughts of Josephine and what we'd done together in the woods.

We separated again in the afternoon so that Josephine could show her face at the pub and I could spend some time with my father. I had no memory of my mother, she'd succumbed to TB when I was a dot and my father had brought me up alone. The old fella was proud to have me going off to the war and he told me so almost shyly in the interval that followed our evening meal.

'Thah'll be reet, Lad,' he said to me gruffly, but with affection after we'd eaten. He held out his hand to me and I shook it firmly. As far as I was concerned it was another rite of passage of becoming a man, another to add to my rapidly expanding horizons. My father knew I was impatient to get away, however he didn't quite know the reason why but all the same we said our goodbyes then, I was away early in the morning and the old man was wise enough to know that I would be better off if I just up and went with no fuss.

I met Josephine and off we went again. We made our way to the now familiar wood and stayed until the new dawn was just beginning to light the sky towards the Pennines. We'd talked and made love all through the night, but now the time was upon us and with the leaden feeling fully returned I turned away from the pub door after we'd both professed our love for each other a thousand times. My face was stained with my tears as I changed into the cussed khaki and pulled on those damned boots. I picked up my kit and left the familiar town behind.

Isaac Johnson dropped me in time to meet the train. He didn't say much on the ride out; realising my mood he spoke in a soft murmur to Clara the horse as she worked between the stays. I watched Isaac and Clara as they made their return journey and as their shape dwindled into the distance it felt as though my boyhood was moving away from me in that cart.

*** *** 

December 1918

The man stood on the track, immobile in spite of the cold, let's face it he was used to it and he drank in the sight of home. He'd been gone over two years and the things he'd seen and experienced in that interval were too horrific to recall. However, despite that, his spirits couldn't be dampened, he'd survived by God; there'd been some close calls; a spell in hospital in France, but he'd bloody well come through and now he was home.

He took a final look at the town and set off down the path towards home. He paused for a moment at the stile; he recalled what had happened to him there and he felt his guts swirl with nervousness, would she still want him? He had the letters, every one and he knew that in every one she'd said so, but... now that he was back?

Just as he was approaching the pub a woman left it. She was well wrapped against the cold and she was carrying a young child in her arms who was equally well protected against the biting December wind. The man almost ignored the woman until, with a jolt of recognition he realised it was her, it was his Josephine. 

'Robert!' she called in that voice he'd longed to hear for so long. 'It's you... really you.'

Robert stared at Josephine and then looked at the child in her arms.

'I...I couldn't tell you in the letters,' she faltered, her voice breaking. 'Just in case...' Josephine moved slowly toward Robert and kissed him on the mouth. 'But you're back... I love you, don't you ever leave me again.' She looked into the changed face of the boy she'd loved in the spinney, 'Here's your son,' she whispered, 'say hello.'

The unsaid reference to his mortality on the battlefield made perfect sense to Robert and he couldn't hold Josephine's silence over his son against her. He was home and she loved him, he had a son.

It was over.



Josephine



Marc has been waiting impatient at the little gloomy cafe he agreed to meet with her. Her was the woman behind the nickname in his messenger client that has kept him up at night for over 5 months. They shared everything, and even more in the last months, they started to have a sexual theme in their chats that cause him to have to wash between his legs before going to bed. She was able to get into his mind and make his blood boil in a sec. He has been dreaming about her for days, for this moment. Her pictures just increase his appetite for her lust and skin instead of calm him down. On the other hand, she was having the same feelings too. She couldn't wait to return home at night and log in to find his prince of lust and happiness. he has made her nights more warm and cozy, after her several years as a divorce mom, she felt she was becoming the object of true desire. She didn't care how many hours she spend in weekends in front of her computer just feeling his presence.

She made a quick entrance, the cafe door swing as she walks in, desire and security in his face, as she scanned the place for him. Finally she found him, a big smile drew on her face as she lowered her sunglasses. She walks towards the small table in a corner as he saw him waving at her.

Marc's heart was racing, he couldn't believe to finally meet her, he waved at her as he waited for her to arrive. He study her body under a modern casual outfit. Her hair was straight but kinda wild, she was wearing a tight t-shirt that made her big tits noticeable. A pair of jeans with a chain belt around her waist. Her skin was lightly dark toned with luscious big lips.

-You don't know how much i missed you last night baby- said with a smile as she gave him a sloppy wet kiss on his cheek. An old couple turn around to watch them as she sat down, as the old lady gives Marc a look of disapproval.

-Really, I'm sorry, but I had to go to that birthday- replied Marc.

-It's ok...so how are you? what do you think?- she says as she sat straight as a manner to show herself to him.

Marc was silent, couldn't say a word, he just blushed.

-I..eeerr...I...- he took a breath, as he laugh. -I mean...I'm shocked, I dreamt about you so many nights, that now I'm shaking-

She took his hand quickly, caressing it -Oh baby, don't worry, I won't hurt you. Quite the opposite, all I want is to make you feel good- smiled as she winked at him.

Marc nodded and had some more coffee. They talked a couple of hours as the day was coming to an end and the streets were getting darker. They talked about the same things they did at night, but reinforcing what they felt and thought. he asked her if she was still ok about the age difference, she being 44 yrs old and mother of two, and he only being 22 yrs old single kid was quite a thing to discuss. But she reassures him that she wanted him really bad, and that he was making her feel like no man her age could.

With nothing more to say they left the cafe and walk down the streets to a small apart hotel a couple of blocks away.

They entered the clerk office and he payed for a room for a couple of hours. The elevator was pretty small and made the journey to the third floor very cozy. She kept smiling at him every time their eyes met.

The lock on the door clank and the door opened. They came inside the room, where a king sized bed was waiting, some light appliances gave the room a gloomy intimacy effect, to the right of the bed was a big mirrored bathroom with a glass shower booth.

He couldn't help but to grab her from her waist and kiss her passionately, their mouths met in a deep kiss. He felt her warm tongue playing with his mouth and tongue, as her warm hand caress the back of her head and neck. Soon their bodies pressed to each other, the mouth kept playing around and now the saliva started oozing out, making the kiss sloppier. For a second they stopped, she was feeling his hard bulge deep between her legs, she raised her eyes at him smiling.

-Whatever happens tonight, never stop fucking me- she whispered with a warm voice that made him, kiss her again harder, pushing her to the bed as they both felt on it, feeling themselves with their entire bodies as her hands began to pull his t-shirt off. 

Her hand ran along his naked chest, while her mouth started to taste his skin, Marc felt her tongue over his nipples and gasps making her smile at him.

-Mmmmm....seem you like getting licked- a naughty look came to her eyes while she bite her lip. She slowly pushed him away to a side, getting on top of him, feeling him underneath her, running her nails along his skin down to his pants. She smiled once again at him as she quickly unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them out exposing his bulge that remained trap underneath his briefs.

She smiles, a big wide smile came to her while lusty feeling and thought ran across her mind. Her hand crawling up his thighs as Marc looked at her. Finally her hand climbed onto his bulge, a long breathe came out of her mouth as she felt his hardness, his size.

-It's bigger than in my mind, fuck me I'm so wet- and quickly started to remove her clothes. Marc was hitted bi the sight of that hot, horny milf body, only to realize that she was climbing on top of him, grabbing hs manhood to sit lustfully on it feeling it go inside her wet horny pussy.

-Oh gawd......so good, feels so good- Marc kept moaning out while she started her sexual dance. Her body swayed on top of him as he felt his cock drown on hot juices that dripped down to his balls. Her developed body started shaking up and down, her big tits came on top of his face, feeding him those meaty nipples he has been dreaming with.

She kept her fuck pace for long minutes, moaning and grunting on Marc as he sucked her nipples harder each minute. Her nails sank on his skin, a quick heavy breathing made her arch completely and a long howl announce the arrival of a horny and flooded orgasm. She remains still, as her pussy quivered on his cock and gushed her thick and scented fluids. Finally her body relaxed and she fell on top of him, he hugged her tight, very tight as he breathe faster and hold his body reaction to a horny orgasm inside her.

She smiled as she felt his cock oozing out his warming cum, flooding his cavity to the point of flowing out, her hand caressed his face, while a soft kiss made her taste his salty skin.

-It's been the best fuck I had in years- said softly to his year.

-I....I..can't believe it- she quickly put her finger on his lips --Ssshhh....don't speak, let's just feel it-.Marc felt asleep that night, only to wake up with a tight feeling between his legs, she was having a big breakfast lunch when she smiled to him and said --Good morning prince-.



Josephine



Author's Note

=============

This story is part of a challenge I posed to myself to write a story for every Literotica category. I had originally thought that it would be more sexually charged, but as I worked on the character development in this story it turned into something unexpected. It became a story about a person's struggle with and eventual transition away from heteronormative expectations.

Thank you for taking the time to read it.

Joey

====

Ever since I was a young teen, I had been drawn to women's clothing.

Maybe it was because my older sister imprinted on me as a role model, or maybe I was just responding to the way she always seemed to smell like an animal in heat. Whatever it was, her clothing drew me.

My older sister was hot. Not in a super-model sort of way, but more in an attitude sort of way. She did have a nice body and an attractive face, but she was strong and kind of tom-boyish too. And she was most definitely oversexed.

I was a young, scrawny boy with no prospects for getting laid yet.

I don't remember how it started, and I knew it could get in me into a lot of trouble, but at some point I began pulling underwear out of her laundry to smell as I indulged in the vice of most partner-less, hormone driven males. At first it was just a sniff, but it was not long before I found myself burying my face in them. And if she had worn them after having sex, the musky smell would drive me insane.

Then my urges escalated and I started wearing them. I can't even remember when I started putting them on. I didn't think she'd notice. When no one else was home I would find a dirty pair of her stockings, panties and a bra to wear and look at myself in the mirror.

My sister started complaining about how her favorite stockings kept getting runs in them. Our mother took the opportunity to suggest that her clothing might last longer if she didn't pray like a whore.

Then one day I shaved my legs.

I wasn't even very hairy to begin with. Being blonde, my leg hair was very fine and pale. I told myself it wouldn't be noticeable and anyway. I thought it would grow back in just a couple of days. But once the euphoria of giving in to the urge passed, I realized how noticeable it was. And it took longer to grow back than I anticipated.

I was climbing up into the hay loft when I slipped. It wasn't a terrible fall, but I banged my shins pretty badly on the way down.

I was rolling on the ground holding my shins and spitting vulgarities when my sister ran in to see if I was alright. She saw blood soaking into a tear in my jeans and carefully rolled up the pant leg to see how bad it was.

I was in too much immediate pain to think about it. She was saying something about it being a really bad skinning but that it was probably nothing serious when she paused. She was holding my leg and I realized that she could see or maybe even feel they were stubbly.

I was in pain and horrified. Fear overcame pain. I froze. I felt her run her hand up across my skin intentionally. I felt the stubble move under her hand like only stubble moves. She blinked a couple of times.

And then she said that I should clean it up and walk it off so our mother wouldn't have to worry about it. She patted me on the side, got up and left.

In a moment of paranoia I thought that she had immediately understood everything and knew all of my sins. But whether this was true or not, she was right. I couldn't risk Mother examining the injury.

The realization of being caught frightened me. No one could know. If anyone found out there was no way that a pervert like me would get out of that little town alive. The fear was enough to make me give up my teen experiments with my sister's underwear.

Joe

===

I was a man. I was 22 years old, worked in a local plant, and had just gotten a degree in accounting from a nearby community college. I had even managed to have a few short term girlfriends.

I still didn't have many friends. I wasn't really into hunting or sports, and when I tried to fake interest it didn't really sell. Other than working, drinking and raising babies there really wasn't much else to do or talk about in that small, non-descript town.

The few women that had put out were husband hunting, I think. They figured that I had a degree so maybe I'd end up in management at the local plant and be a good provider. But in the end I always ended up being a little too nerdy or unmanly for them.

I was having a dry spell. Perhaps the last dry spell, I thought. There really weren't all that many available women in town. And the few available women in town had all given me a try and decided to move on. 

The most recent of these departed women had left a few of her things at my apartment. She had stayed over on a number of occasions and had left a few changes of clothing. All of the women I had dated had done that. Sometimes I wonder if women do that on purpose as a way to mark territory.

I was putting her things into a bag so that when she inevitably stopped by to pick up them up we could minimize the awkwardness of breaking up. I was holding a pair of frilly panties in my hand and thinking that she was the last woman in town and that this could be an awfully long dry spell.

I lifted them to my nose to smell her pussy one last time. The urge snuck back into my mind. My cock grew hard and I figured, "What the fuck. I may as well."

Before she picked them up, I washed all of her things to make sure there weren't any cum stains. She said that I was considerate and so on and so on. And left just like the others had.

But the urge, that perverted thrill, was back. It was a casual thought. I didn't have access to any women's clothing. But as the dry spell wore on my mind started trying to find ways to make jerking off more thrilling.

I stopped by Mother's house after church on Sunday, like I always did, to have lunch and listen to her lovingly tell me I needed to find a good woman to mother my children and how she wasn't getting any younger and wanted to be a grandmother.

Mother was all of 45 years old and already trying to lay mortality guilt on me like it was the middle ages and she could die of old age at any moment. But it would be alright and she could pass into heaven joyfully knowing that I had given her good, strong grandchildren to carry on my father's name.

My sister had moved to a big city and hadn't visited in a while. Mother wanted me to send her a few things that were in her old room. Trying to be a good son, I went and packed up some of my sister's winter clothes "so she wouldn't catch her death". And, of course, the crucifix that my sister had absent mindedly left hanging over her bed instead of taking with her.

I was looking into her underclothes drawer to get some warm socks like Mother had asked when I became momentarily transfixed. My fingers brushed lightly across her carefully folded tights. She had even left some of her panties and a bra behind.

I could feel my heartbeat pulsing in my temples.

And I casually packed those things as well. But they never made it into the box that I mailed the next day.

The next night they sat carefully laid out on my little coffee table while I sipped beer. My mind was racing between desire and fearful shame.

She had left behind older items. The underwear had a few small holes around the waistband. The bra's elastic was worn out. And the tights and stockings had runs. But they were soft and they felt good n my fingers. Her scent had been washed clean from them, but I could feel my cock throbbing against the containment of my jeans.

I couldn't resist.

Every night after I thought everyone in this tiny town had gone to bed I would slip into my sister's old undergarments. At first it was just to sexual gratify myself like I used to. But soon I found myself falling asleep in her old panties. I loved waking up in the morning with my morning wood straining against the fabric of the snug panties.

I began to be bold. I started wearing the panties under my boxers when I was out around town. It stopped even being a constant sexual thrill. I simply loved the way they felt. And I loved the way that they made me feel.

Sudden Migration

================

My sister was waiting for me when I got home from work. It was a small town. Everyone knew everyone. My landlord had let her. We were siblings after all, right?

But I was surprised. I had no idea that she was coming to visit. And it was the middle of the week. She had a regular day job. And she had spent hours driving.

We made family-style small talk, but I could tell that something was wrong. Even if her behavior hadn't tipped me off, the whole situation was alarming. Something was wrong and she was trying to find a way to get to it.

She talked about how I'd love the city she lived in. How great it was. She went on and on and then said that I should come live there. I could even stay with her until I got myself set up.

It was rushed and pushy. Finally she got right to it.

"Joey ...," she said. She had always called me Joey when she was slipping into protective older sister mode.

"Joey", she said, "you need to come with me. Tonight. Now. Pack up what you need. We'll figure out the rest later."

She was dead serious. And she was pale. She produced the plain brown paper bag that I kept my girly underclothes in. I didn't even think of them as hers anymore. They were mine.

She didn't even open the bag. We both knew what was inside. We just looked at each other. I didn't even ask how she found out, or how she had found the bag. I tried to stammer out an explanation.

"Stop," she said. "I don't care about what's in this bag. And I don't care about what you do. You're my little brother and I love you. No matter who or what you are. But someone else knows."

My head grew light and I could hear the panic and blood rushing in my ears.

One of her friends had called her to let her know that people were talking. There were some good old boys at the plant that had been drinking the night before and talking about how they should do something about that sissy-boy faggot. Me. They were talking about me. My sister's friend knew what that meant. My sister knew what that meant. And I knew what that meant.

In a town like ours it meant that my life was in danger. It had happened before. And I wasn't even gay! I just liked to wear women's underwear!

I was a zombie. My sister helped me grab a few things and shuffled me down the stairs and into her car and before I even realized what was happening I was on the state road heading out of town.

My sister's friend called her back the next day to find out if I was alright. The very same night that my sister had come for me someone had kicked in the door to my apartment not too long after the local bar had closed and trashed the place. If I had still been there I would have likely been beaten to death in my own bed.

I never did see my mother again.

Adaptation

==========

Once the initial fog of my sudden move wore off I did my best to tie up loose ends "back home". 

Mother wouldn't accept my calls. When she heard my voice she would hang up. 

My former employer seemed happy to be rid of me and had no problem forwarding my last paycheck to my mother. "It was the least I could do for all the pain I had caused her." 

My former landlord was furious about the apartment and wanted to send me a bill for damages. He even threatened to have the police chief hunt me down to bring me back and account for the damage done.

I gave no one any indication of where I had gone. I was actually a little afraid that someone would hunt me down to finish the job.

But my sister had been earnest about letting me live with her. Space was tight, but we had grown up in a small house and were used to living with each other in this way.

It took me a long time to get back on my feet from the shock of knowing that whoever had just tried to kill me was someone I had probably gone to church with every Sunday for my entire life.

But my sister helped me adapt to my new life. After a few months I had managed to pick up a pretty good job using my degree and between us we had enough money to move to a slightly larger space.

The fear had a strange impact on me. I did my best to be a good, manly man. I was in pretty good shape, but I started working out intentionally. I began to dress in a more conservatively masculine manner. And I threw away the brown paper bag full of women's undergarments and shame.

I did my best to purge it from myself. Giving in to those perverted urges had very nearly gotten me killed. And as far as my Mother was concerned, I was dead.

It was difficult to sleep at first. The noise was almost unbearable. Every corner of the city seemed to reek of urine and rotting food.

I cried myself to sleep some nights. I cried for how foolish I had been. I prayed for forgiveness. I swore to be the man Mother wanted me to be, and Father would have wanted me to be, even if she would never see me again. Because, I thought, that's what men do.

But I found it easier to make friends in the city. There were all kinds of people there. If I didn't want to talk about sports, I could find people to talk about books. The library system and the museums were a delight to me. For the first time in my life I felt like I didn't have to completely suppress myself just to fit in. And this joy got me through the worst of it.

I adapted. I grew. And I swore that my foolish perversion was behind me. Because, I thought, "That's what men do."

Comfort and Submission

======================

My sister was still an oversexed minx, but our new apartment was large enough to ignore her having loud sex every other night. She seemed to have a three or four men that would visit her in a sort of rotation. I figured that it was a "city" thing. The guys all seemed to know each other and the sex seemed pretty casual.

Eventually some of her girlfriends began to inquire about me, and I went on a few dates. I did my best to mimic my older sister's casual demeanor about sex. It turns out that most women weren't actually cool with that. But some were.

One night one of my lovers tried to get me to put her panties on. She said that she was turned on by the idea of me wearing her panties.

I was shocked, and suddenly scared. Had my sister said something? I think my resistance must have been anticipated, perhaps even happily so. She probably assumed it was the same resistance that most apparently "straight" man would offer. 

My lover seemed to enjoy the process of persuading me. She took control and I found myself yielding to her wishes.

I had never shared this with anyone before. I had always done my best to hide it. And I hadn't indulged in this since fleeing to the city.

The experience was amazing. She was gentle, but firm with her commands. And there was no doubt that she was giving commands, no matter how persuasively they were couched.

And when we were both exhausted she "made me" wear them to sleep.

The next morning I awoke with a morning hard-on like I had never experienced before. I looked down to see her lips playing along the head of my cock sticking up over the top of the panties. 

When she saw that I was awake, she straddled one of my thighs and began stroking the head of my cock with her fingers.

When I tried to raise my arms to grab her, she pushed my arms down and told me to lie very still. She playfully kept me on the edge of cumming for what seemed like forever while she ground her wet pussy onto my thigh. 

She whispered and moaned how my obedience got her off and how she loved the way I looked in her panties. She persuaded my agreement and refused to allow me to cum until I admitted to enjoying submission and to wearing her panties.

My orgasm was intense, and unusually loud. When I finished spurting into her hand and onto my own stomach, she leaned down and ran her cum covered fingers through my hair and down the side of my face. Leaning in, she kissed me deeply while grinding herself over the edge of orgasm against my thigh.

When she left I was still wearing her panties and had my own cum drying in my hair and on my cheek.

I pulled a robe on to take a piss and get some coffee. My sister smirked at me over her oatmeal before I rubbed my cheek and realized why.

Exploration

===========

Once I realized that there were other people that enjoyed indulging in the same kinks that I enjoyed, my life began to change for the better.

My lovers became more adventurous and I started seeing overlapping themes. It almost seemed like a conspiracy. And it wasn't long before I had yielded completely, confident that these city people were more enlightened than the small town folk that had sought to do violence to my person.

To be playful, I would show up to a date already wearing the panties that the woman had left behind the last time. I figured that if anyone caught me I would simply explain that I was on my way to fuck a beautiful woman who was turned on by seeing me in her panties.

I went to parties where people flirted and openly discussed their kinks. Knowing that I didn't have to conceal my kinks as tightly, they actually controlled my thoughts less. Wearing women's clothing just became a casual "sometimes" game to play in the bedroom. And I discovered that while I sometimes enjoyed being dominated, once the initial thrill wore off it really was just a "sometimes" thing with the right people.

Even my sister, I discovered, was privy to this talk. She was comfortable and seemed to be completely non-judgmental about my sexual deviancy. It was a tremendous relief.

But over time I began to notice my own attitude changing. Even outside of the context of sexual games, I began to find myself wondering why I shouldn't wear whatever clothing I wanted to. I found myself beginning to find women's clothing more generally attractive.

One of my lovers convinced me to shave my legs. Another lover helped me pick out stockings and a garter belt. But it was still all a part of having sex.

One night when my sister was out, two of my lovers came over together and they spent the evening dolling me up in full drag and then pretending I was a straight woman so that they could seduce me into having a lesbian threesome.

It was dark and they wanted to go out to a certain bar that they knew, but I drew the line and we stayed in. But the next day I found myself wondering where they thought that we could go and no one would mind that I was a man in drag.

I asked my sister about it and she said that she had been there, and that it was not unusual for people to go there to publicly cross dress but that even in a fairly liberal city you still had to watch out for gay bashers who would sometimes prowl around known gay bars and drag clubs looking for people to beat up.

It was a conversation that I tried to start as a nonchalant question but ended up being longer and more confessional than I imagined it could be. It turns out that my sister already knew most of it and suspected the rest. She was actually every bit as kinky as me, and perhaps even more so. 

She did warn me that women were probably going to try to push me to see how far I'd go, and that I should be careful to not do anything I was uncomfortable with.

In terms of lifestyle, she said that she had no problem with me wearing women's clothing around the house if that's what I wanted to do. But that if I did so when anyone else was around then I had better be prepared for her bisexual male friends to hit on me, if they weren't already.

Oh – and that it wasn't cool to borrow her clothes without asking. We were both grown-ups now and I could buy my own lingerie.

We both laughed a little. It had started off awkward, become confessional and ended with me so incredibly happy to know that I didn't have to hide anything from my sister anymore.




Josephine



Changes

=======

It didn't happen overnight. But over time I relaxed into my new freedom. 

I started shaving my legs, and I loved the way stockings felt against my smooth legs. One of my lovers taught me how to trim my "bikini" area and encouraged me to do so. Before long I was either shaving or using depilatory cream to denude most of my body. 

My sister noticed my bare legs under my robe one morning and encouragingly suggested that I should try the moisturizing cream that she used to help prevent the sort of irritation that shaving could cause.

I began sleeping in a delightfully silky nightie that made me feel comfortable and sexy at the same time.

When my sister wasn't home I would slip into a simple ensemble and walk around the apartment, watching myself in every reflective surface that I passed.

I started to become very comfortable with who I was and the way that I dressed.

I knew that I couldn't paint my nails because of my job, but I began painting my toenails. I figured that if anyone ever discovered them I would say that my girlfriend painted them while I was asleep.

I experimented with different ways to create the illusion that I was curved like a woman under the clothing. I began wearing a padded bra and experimented with different ways to stuff it. I discovered "shaper" undergarments that were designed for women but helped with my illusion.

Feminizing my appearance became the thing I did when there was nothing else to do. And then it became a part of my lifestyle. And the handful of lovers I had at the time all approved. And when she would see some evidence of what I was doing, my sister would remain supportive and make suggestions.

Josephine

=========

My environment was safe, but I should have seen that it was just a matter of time before my sister caught me all dolled up. Despite all of her support and love, I was still anxious about her seeing me actually wearing women's clothing.

It was late and my sister was out with one of her boyfriends. I had lost track of time and was on the couch watching a movie when I heard the key in the lock. I had become so comfortable with myself that it took me a moment to remember that I was wearing my nightie and cliché candy-striped thigh highs!

Quickly, I hopped up and dashed past the entryway and down the hall toward my room. Out of the corner of my eye I could see my sister and two men and I hoped that neither of the men would recognize me.

As I ran I could feel the hem of the nightie rise up to reveal the ruffled boyshorts I wore underneath.

I quickly shut the door behind me, still hoping that being quiet would allow me to escape.

"Was ... that ...," I heard one of my sister's regular lovers start to say.

"My sister," came my sister to the rescue.

I heard an unfamiliar voice say, "Your sister is pretty hot."

My sister laughed a little and replied, "Josephine. Yeah. Josephine is really something."

I could hear the familiar male voice move across the room saying, "I remember you saying that she was coming out. For a visit."

And there was a pause.

"From what I could see, hot must run in the family," he continued.

"I didn't bring you two back here to ogle my kid sister," her voice was coming down the hall and I could hear her bedroom door open.

"Do you two want to get naked, or what?" She asked with a hint of challenge.

I stayed in my room for the rest of the night with the door locked. 

Recognition

===========

In the morning I waited until I was sure that both men had left, and when I came out for coffee I was wearing my work clothes, even though it was Sunday.

"Going to church?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I, uh, wasn't sure if anyone was still here," I answered.

"Yeah," she smirked. "Because my kid sister went into the bedroom and my kid brother came out. That's about as subtle as Clark Kent using a phone booth."

I hadn't thought of that. That would have been pretty awkward, at least.

"I didn't mean to surprise you like that last night," she apologized. "If I had known what you were doing I would've given you some warning."

"I didn't want to ... be ... indiscrete. I didn't want you to actually have to see me like that," I tried to explain.

"I've known you liked to cross dress since we were kids," she explained.

"That time I fell in the barn"

"As soon as I saw that you had shaved your legs, I realized who had been ruining my good nylons. I'm fine with it. And I was then, too," she continued. "But you know where we were. I was afraid for you. I don't want you to get hurt."

There was silence.

"Let's get this over with so you can stop feeling ashamed of yourself around me," she said putting her hands down on the counter. "I refuse to allow you to live in shame. Lord knows you've been listening to me have little orgies in my room since we decided to live together."

That was an interesting way to describe it, but I indulged myself in the way she reframed the circumstances. I supposed that I could have found my own place by then if I had really wanted to.

"Go back in there and get dressed up again," she commanded. "I don't care if you want to be my brother or my sister or something in between. But around me, you should be whoever you want to be."

I didn't move. I couldn't say anything.

"Go on," she gently nudged. "I'm not letting you have coffee until we get this over with and I can show you that I mean it."

She was serious. I was scared, but I wanted to get this over with too. I knew it was something that I had to do.

"ok," I whispered, and made my way back to my room.

It took some time, but I carefully pulled one of the more comfortable and conservative outfits that I had assembled over the months. I stood at my door for a moment collecting myself. I took a deep breath, opened the door and carefully walked back out into the kitchen.

My sister watched me come down the hall wearing a knee length black skirt, violet long sleeved blouse, opaque patterned tights, and wide heels.

"Mm. Looking good," she casually declared in the same manner she would use any other time I took the time to dress up.

I stood there and let her look me up and down. Then she handed me my morning coffee.

"What do we do now?" I asked sheepishly. 

"We have coffee," she stated. "You're no different to me in a skirt and heels than you are in jeans and sneakers."

She sat on the couch and beckoned me to sit next to her. We sipped coffee. She seemed completely comfortable and it put me at ease.

"It looks good. That outfit totally looks like something Anna would pick out," She said.

"Anna went shopping with me. We pretended it was for her and that I was the bored boyfriend," I answered.

"That makes sense. But this isn't how you were dressed last night. When we came in it looked like there was a Suicide Girl running down the hall," she smiled. "You ran by too quickly for them to see anything but your backside, but John and Matt were totally getting as much of an eyeful as they could."

"John knew I was me, though," I asked nervously.

"He figured it out pretty quick, but he still liked what he saw," she said. "He's bi, so ... you know."

That made me a little uncomfortable. I was not sure why.

"So, do you just wear these clothes when you're feeling ... you know, horny? Or do you like to wear these sorts of clothes more generally," she inquired trying to sound casual.

"It was ... a kinky thing at first. But living here, with you, and feeling as safe as you and your friends have made me feel ...," I searched for the words, "... I began to realize that I like dressing like this. I don't know why. It just feels ... nice. Comfortable. It even feels natural, as silly as that may sound."

"If this is how you feel comfortable dressing, then dress this way. I'm completely fine with it," she explained. "And a lot of my friends would be fine with it too. Hell, half of my friends are openly something other than heteronormative anyway. But unless you say otherwise we can keep this a secret. John won't say anything. And most other people, like Matt, don't actually know that I don't have a hot younger sister named Josephine. So it should be fine. We'll make up some story about her so we have the same story if anyone asks."

I felt as if a great weight had been lifted from me. I was incredibly grateful for having such a sister. I grew limp as the tension left my body. I placed my head on my sister's shoulder and quietly thanked her. She put her arms around me and hugged me.

"So ... I looked good last night?" I asked quietly. "I looked ... like a woman?"

"Sweetie, if I didn't know that you were my ...," she fumbled for a gender neutral phrase, "... family, I would have chased you down that hall and done wicked things to you myself. And I can't remember the last time John came so quickly. I think his mind was fixed on that sweet eye candy he caught when we first walked in."

I laughed a little.

"So," she inquired, "when you're dressed like this are you my sister? Or are you still my brother? Do you want me to treat you any differently than I always have?"

I hadn't ever thought about it. It didn't seem right to try to call myself a woman. It seemed like a lie. But I was intentionally dressing like a woman and taking on feminine aspects. But was that what I was doing? It didn't seem like I was acting. Sometimes I felt masculine and other times I felt feminine.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "I'm a man. I don't want you to treat me any differently. But ... I liked the name."

"The name?" my sister asked.

"Josephine. It's my real name," I explained, "just with a few extra letters."

"Sweet Mary," she mumbled. "How did heteronormative even become a thing?"

I had to look up what heteronormative later. While I was well read and had a pretty broad vocabulary, I was not particularly familiar the language of gender politics at the time.

She rubbed my hair and said, "How about I just keep calling you Jo. It could be a man's name; it could be a woman's name. And if you want me to change that then you just let me know, ok?"

"That sounds good," I said. "Thank you."

It was raining and kind of chilly outside. We stayed in that day and just hung out. It was the first time I had worn women's clothes around someone that I wasn't having sex with. We read and talked and ordered pizza for brunch. I hid in my room when the delivery guy came. But I spent the entire day dressed as a woman might dress.

We even did "girly" things. My sister showed me how to shape my eyebrows to be less bushy and more androgynous in a way that would simply look like my masculine identity was particular about his grooming and appearance. And she put makeup on me. Not a lot. Not whorish makeup. It was just a little eye liner, shadow and lipstick. I had heard of women doing this sort of thing with each other, but had never experienced it firsthand. I remember being surprised at how much I enjoyed it.

Later in the night, she changed into a pretty little chemise and men's boxer shorts to watch a movie. And I changed into the same short, black nightie and ruffled boyshorts that I had worn the night before. But I thought the thigh highs were too much, so I left my smooth legs bare.

When my sister politely asked what was keeping my private parts secure, I pulled up my nightie and showed her the top portion of the high rising shaper thong that I was wearing under my boyshorts. It came up to just below where my breasts would be, if I had them, and helped to shape my waist. The stretchy fabric also pressed my boy parts up against my body and kept them from bulging or falling out of my panties.

She asked if it was uncomfortable, and I told her that it was a little at first but that when I wanted to feel feminine that they really helped me feel feminine.

When I went to bed, I removed my boyshorts and the shaper thong so that it wouldn't be crushing my cock and balls all night and slept in my nightie really knowing for the first time in ten years that there was nothing wrong with me.