3 comments/ 36433 views/ 2 favorites Jenny Wren Ch. 01 By: qdata This story contains descriptions of an explicitly sexual nature. Any participants have at least achieved their 18th birthday and all sex described herein is with mutual consent. The story line and characters are entirely fictional: any similarities are purely coincidental. It contains elements of the following: inter-generational incest; transvestitism; vaginal, anal and oral sex with references to spanking, BDSM, group sex and male and female bisexuality. If such material is illegal in your current location, please click away from this page without reading further. If the nature of this story is offensive in any way to you, you may feel more comfortable with other stories available on this site. OK, that's the warnings out of the way. I hope you enjoy reading this story as much I enjoyed the writing. ~ooOoo~ Chapter 1: Caught in the act. I woke gently from a dreamless sleep and opened my eyes to the glare of an August sun trying to burn its way through the curtains. Pushing the light covers to one side, I groaned a little as I rolled my body to the edge of the bed and sat there for a moment rubbing my right knee. "It'll be raining before the day's out," I muttered to myself. My arthritic knee was as good as those weather people on the radio when it came to predicting the rain. But my old body was full of aches this morning. It didn't help that it was the anniversary of my Petey's death. I decided to treat myself to a mustard bath to ease my joints. Pulling off my nightie I turned to reach for my bathrobe, catching a glimpse of myself in the dressing table mirror and for a fleeting moment it seemed that the years had stripped away and I had my young body back. I smiled at my overactive imagination and it was my old, wrinkled body which smiled back at me. I sighed and tried to conjure back that vision of the nubile girl I used to be. Gone now was that young beauty, the face I saw was wrinkled and careworn. I smoothed my bony hands over my hips and thighs as I had done so many times over the years and even attempted a sexy wiggle of my hips but the old bones didn't wiggle; the shrivelled skin just wobbled a bit. The breasts which used to threaten to burst out of any blouse or sweater or DD bra I wore now hung down from my bony chest with the nipples, once so proud and erect, looking at the floor. I smiled as I noticed the small gold rings through them, remembering the day my Petey held my hand as a strange man had pierced them with a fierce-looking needle and then inserted the bars. I was so proud of myself when I barely flinched. This was years before piercings became commonplace and my various nipple ornaments often brought gasps of surprise when revealed for the first time. As I stood there I twiddled the rings reminiscing about the things Petey, and others, had done to them over the years. It was those memories which kept the rings in place when only I ever saw them. I brushed a tear from my rheumy eye, pulled my bathrobe over my shoulders, wincing at the ache then grabbed my stick and hobbled towards the bathroom. I wondered why the master bedroom door was open so I looked in and saw Clive, still in his pyjamas, going through his mother's dressing table drawers. He had a lacy red brassiere in one hand and was retrieving a matching pair of panties with the other. "And what do you think you're doing, young man?" I said in my most imperious voice. As he turned towards me his face went white then suffused to a bright red. "G-G-Gaygan," he stuttered, "I was ... er ... I er ..." He hung his head and looked so pathetic with those incriminating articles dangling from his hands and a tent very quickly deflating between his legs. I stood with my back to the door and stepped backwards until it clicked home. On hearing the door close he looked up in panic like an animal in a trap, the flimsy garments dropping from lifeless hands.. "Well, what are you doing – or what were you about to do?" He remained mute, almost defiant. "Were you going to wear them and then play with yourself?" The blush renewed itself but he remained silent. "Were you?" I snapped harshly. "Gaygan, I ..." "Answer me." I demanded. Still not speaking he hung his head again and barely nodded. "Well?" A tortured voice half whispered, "Yes, Gaygan." I moved over and sat on the bed. "Then do it, Clive. Here and now, put them on." "What? No way," he blurted out then stared me in the eyes with mutiny in his. But I had stared down bigger men than him in my life. I had role-played the dominatrix so often it came naturally to me. We remained like that for several minutes, glaring at each other and, as I felt his nerve begin to sway, I allowed a smile to cross my lips. It felt good to be in control again. His eyes slid away from mine and with a defeated sigh started to unbutton his jacket Clive was my great grandson, 19 and in the prime of his life. Gaygan was what he used to call me when he was just a toddler. He couldn't get his mouth around 'great grandmother' so I became Gaygan and so have been called by all the family ever since. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him standing before me stripped. I hadn't really noticed it until now: he was a mirror image of my Petey when we were on our honeymoon. Standing at about 5'9", Clive displayed a finely honed body and the cutest bum. His light brown hair fell neatly about his ears and his eyes were deep liquid brown pools framed by sensually long dark lashes. His quiescent manhood twitched as my gaze settled on it. The soft cylinder came to a point where the prepuce closed over the glans penis. It looked unnervingly familiar; half-hiding behind the luxuriant bush of pubic hair, it masked one testicle but revealed the other hanging heavily in the loose, wrinkled sac. Everything so achingly reminiscent of Petey; I was certain that body held no secrets. My beloved late husband had a massive heart attack 20 years ago – so young, oh so young. It was a few months after he died that my granddaughter Mary, pregnant with Clive, and her husband Jack moved in to my house. They had lost theirs in a business deal which had gone sour through factors totally out of their control and I had a big rambling house which echoed around me. They were currently away on a business stroke holiday trip in Cornwall for the week. At first I had only intended having a harmless tease with Clive but seeing him like that ignited a once familiar tingle in my clitoris and I found myself with my hand inside my bathrobe fingering my nipple ring. Now I knew I had him under my control I could relax my psychological grip so I started to reassure him. "Clive, lots of men like ladies' underwear. Your great grandfather often used to wear a pair of my knickers under his trousers. It doesn't mean you're any less the man. Come, give your old Gaygan a kiss then dress up prettily for her." I pulled my breast into the open as he stepped over and made to kiss my cheek but I turned my head and caught him full on the lips. It was a chaste, closed mouth kiss at first but he held it for a few seconds before finally responded to my probing tongue. Then Clive put one hand at the back of my head, the other over my hand on my tit, twisted the ring and gave me a real toe-curling kiss. Whoosh, it was like a heavy drink. As he stepped back I noticed he was semi-erect, and it had all the signs of being a lovely erection. Again, so much like Petey it was untrue. I kissed the tip of my finger, touched it to the top of his growing penis and said, "Hello, big boy. Are you pleased to see me?" It twitched. He became more playful as he strapped on the bra. He was very dainty as he stepped into the panties and pulled them up over his now full erection, leaving the tip sticking out above the top. "Get some of your mother's stockings out and bring them to me," I ordered. I stuffed the B cups with the nylons, squeezed his new tit then turned him round and let him see himself in the mirror. "See, I knew you'd make a pretty girl. But we need to do something with this." I reached round and flicked the top of his penis. "Come here," I ordered, pulling him round to face me again. I held my breast to him and said, "You play with this while Gaygan gets rid of that silly interruption. He took my flabby old tit but was fascinated by the ring, lifting, tugging and twisting it deliciously. I pulled his panties down and slid a hot prick in my mouth for the first time in too long. It felt and tasted lovely but now wasn't the time to make love to his penis; I just wanted to get rid of the urgency. He was obviously enjoying himself tripping the light fantastic with my nipple ring so, without any hesitation, I took the erection all the way into my throat although I had to suppress the gagging reflex – it had been so long. Squeezing my throat muscles I milked him and it was only a few seconds until I felt the first pulse travel up his prick and his grip on my tit tightened to the point of delicious pain. I pulled back a little until it was shooting in my mouth: I hungered for the taste again. I cleaned him off then offered up my face for him to kiss me. I think he was a little startled to taste himself in my mouth but he barely hesitated before kissing me right back. I tucked his softening penis back into the panties and pulled them up again. "Now get one of your mother's pretty dresses and put it on." He turned and opened her wardrobe and took his time picking a red print floral slim-fitting summer dress, held it next to his body and turned with one eyebrow cocked in query. I smiled and nodded so he closed the wardrobe and slipped the dress over his head then turned and showed me. I clapped my hands in approval and smiled. "Now get yourself some shoes to wear." He found some red slingbacks with a 3" heel and I thought, "He's a bit ambitious." I had to help him loosen the back buckle as his mother's feet were smaller than his but he managed to squeeze into them. "Oh, you are a pretty girl." I said as he stepped back again. I motioned with my finger, "Twirl round." He obliged then tried to drop a little curtsy, tripped himself up and fell giggling to the floor. "You'll learn!" I told him. Chapter 2: The Bet When he recovered himself I told him, "Go and run a nice hot bath for Gaygan, then come back here while the water's running." He tried his best but he just wasn't used to walking in heels and stumbled a little but made it to the bathroom and back safely. "Come here; sit by me while it's filling." He did as I asked. "I like having my tits played with. My cunt and arse like attention too." I deliberately used the crude words so he would know I wouldn't be shocked. He lowered me until my back was on the bed, opened my gown wide and started playing his hands over my old flesh reviving delicious memories. I closed my eyes and it was incredible. I was transported back 45 years to a caravan and hiking holiday in Devon. Petey and I had found a tiny remote cove which couldn't be overlooked except from the top of the cliff on the other side of the cove. He spread me out naked on a towel in the sun and ran his hands all over me in smooth stroking rhythms. It felt so loving and erotic especially when he told me there were two men watching from the path and both had binoculars directed towards us. I had an orgasm there and then. Another mind blaster hit me when he ostentatiously played with my body jewellery. And a third as he entered and fucked me after twenty minutes of that heavenly manipulation. I remember blowing a kiss at the two guys on the cliff after the performance ended. They both gave us a standing ovation, clapping their hands above their heads. One of them pointed to his groin and mimed masturbating. I signalled back the 'thumbs up'. Clive's hands felt just like Petey's as they stroked over me. He stopped briefly when he discovered the tiny bar through my clitoris then started to explore the new-found jewellery. I was now so grateful I had never let my piercings heal over. He started one hand playing with my nipples, going from one side to the other. His other hand was twisting and pulling on my clitoris bar alternating with a thumb stabbing into my pussy. "Oh Petey ..." I screamed in orgasm. "Are you OK Gaygan?" Clive sounded worried. My panting breathing wasn't reassuring him either. "Phew," I gasped. "That was a good one. Thank you so much Clive. My husband used to do that to me and you did it so well. You're lovely." I pulled him down to me and kissed him thoroughly. "That was really impressive, Gaygan. You had me scared for a minute. My girlfriend has never gone off like that." "Thank you, kind sir or is it ..." I squeezed his tit and chuckled, "... kind miss? Help Gaygan to her bath now: would you like to scrub her back?" He was surprised when he saw me adding some mustard to the water but this was a trick I learned from my grandmother. "It stimulates the blood circulation," I explained. "Warms aching joints." I lowered myself slowly into the hot water then sank right under for a couple of seconds before coming back up. Heavenly! I sat there soaking in the heat – physical and chemical – as Clive busied himself with my tit. I noticed he squirmed a little in discomfort in the tight clothing and shoes. "Why don't you get in with me? You can dress up again afterwards if you want. We'll fix you some makeup; would you like that?" He quickly stripped off his new clothes and sank himself gingerly into the other end of the big tub. I massaged his tool with my foot as he became accustomed to the temperature and smiled as I felt it rise at my bidding. "Tell me, Clive, what do you see in this old body that causes this?" I dug my toes into his erection which was trying to peep out the water. "Look, it's like a periscope coming up to look at me." I joked. He knelt up and started washing me. "I don't know what it is, Gaygan. My girlfriend has a gorgeous body and we have great sex together but I have never met anyone who is as sexy as you. Somehow you ooze sex. Your eyes see into me," he leaned over and ran a thumb across my lips. "Your lips ooze sex; your kisses just blow my mind. Your tits ..." his fingers biting into the flesh, "... ooze sex; yes even these flabby things. Your rings ooze sex. Your pussy, your cunt, your bejewelled clitoris oozes sex." His fingers invaded me. I certainly was oozing sex down there. "That's what causes this." He placed .my hand on his prick which I squeezed. "Listen Clive," I said to break the silence as I sat there enjoying him enjoying my body. "We're on our own for a week. Would you like to spend that week making love to an old hag? I promise you this sexy old hag will be exciting. You can dress up as much as you like. I'll help you. I might dress you as my maid and you can wait on me hand and foot. We can do whatever WE want. Clive, my darling, how would you like me to spank you? Or you can spank me? Hush, lover," I put a finger to his lips as I saw the protest rising. "You've never tried it. We'll never do anything you don't want. I'll never ask you to do more than I reckon you can. You can call quits at any time. "Listen, I've had a lovely sex life and had so many men, and women, with my husband's blessing: he would often be one of several giving me a good old fashioned gangbang fucking. With an open mind, I've learned so many erotic and sexy things. My husband and I had a motto. We'd try anything once: twice if we liked it. Ruling nothing out! "If you are happy to service an old hag for a week, this old hag will take you on a trip to the moon, stopping at all points on the way." Without saying a word he stood up, stepped out of the bath and helped me out. He got a towel from the airing cupboard and ever so gently he patted me dry, dusting me down with talc when I indicated. He quickly towelled himself dry, grabbed my stick, picked me up and bodily carried me to my bed. He placed my stick by the side table then mounted the bed and, spreading my thighs, knelt between them, leant forward and kissed me. "Gaygan," he said, looking into my eyes, "Can you manage this? I'm 19 and you're ... just how old are you Gaygan?" "I'm 77 years old and I'll make a bet with you." I kissed him back. "My body is yours for the day. No holds barred, whatever, whenever and wherever you want. If I cry quits before midnight tonight for any reason, you can fuck me twice a day for the rest of the week. If I win you'll be under my instruction for the week. Same conditions, you can say 'No' to anything." But right now, do me a favour. Fuck this old witch silly. You've got her cauldron bubbling." I grabbed his face and kissed him. Keeping most of his weight on his arms he entered me slowly but all the way. I felt every lovely inch of it, every pulsing vein and every bump. He held stock still when he had full penetration then started rocking back and forth, allowing me to savour the actions Ever so slowly, as if tuning me, he increased his rhythm. An errant thought crossed my mind: "He will make a good pupil." His speed gathered until he was humping me and I was mewling in his ear. Clive pushed all the way in then pulled all the way out again until the head was just hovering at my entrance then he jerked a couple of inches forward, just enough to get the swollen head inside then pulled it straight back out, repeating this in-and-out jerk every couple of seconds. "Oh no, not that ..." The only man who ever done this to me had been my husband. I just came and came and came, calling Petey's name as he kept the rhythm up before sinking deep into me and spurting his load in my depths. "I hope I don't need a condom." His giggle cut through the mists of orgasm. "Are you on the pill Gaygan?" "Silly boy," I said, slapping his rump playfully. "My eggs gave out over thirty years ago" "In that case, Gaygan, light that touch paper and take me to the moon. The bet's on! And Gaygan, if you slip and call me Petey again, I won't mind." He smiled and it was like Petey looking back at me. I thanked him then smiled to myself. Not ten years ago I had kept five men and two women happy for 24 hours. Even now I reckoned I could take on three prime stallions: just one would be easy. This week would probably be my sexually active swansong – comeback performance, as it were, but by god, I reckoned I could sign out with a bang. Chapter 3: The Training Begins. "Right, Clive, it's your day, your call. What do we do now?" He smiled sheepishly, "I'd like to dress up again. Will you do my makeup, as you said you would?" "Of course I will. Go and get your clothes and bring them here. You might also bring my robe; I can't sit around naked all day." He scrambled off the bed to do my bidding and, as he turned away I slapped his rump again. "Ouch, what was that for?" He twisted round to see the red handprint I had left. "That was just a warning: you never kissed me! Lesson: always and everywhere, kiss. A kiss says everything: that you're enjoying yourself, that you love what we're doing together, that you love me." "Of course I love you Gaygan." He threw his arms around me and kissed me thoroughly before setting off for the bathroom almost at a run. While he was doing that I opened the curtains to let the sun stream in, noticing that there was a layer of cloud darkening over the far hills. My old knee had got it right again. He returned with a bundle of clothes in his arms and placed them on the bed. He helped me in to my bathrobe then stood in front of me when I told him to. I walked around him, trailing a nail over his pectorals and digging in a little as it crossed his nipples, over his shoulder and down his back to his buttocks, noticing the fine trim. I trailed my nail round the front and across his penis which was already showing the beginnings of life again. I fondled then squeezed his genitals enough to make him gasp. Jenny Wren Ch. 01 "Too much hair," I told him. "Pretty girls don't have all this:" I pinched some of his fine chest hair in my fingers and yanked. We'll have to get rid of it, but that's for another day. First, go back to your mother's drawer and see if there's a suspender belt matching these:" I held up the underwear. "Yes, there is, Gaygan." I looked at him with a knowing grin. "Checked it out already have you? OK, you'll need another pair of nylons, too." I was just about to deliver a third slap when he turned back, kissed me and pinched my bum. He was learning. I was back sitting on the bed by the time he returned. I told him to start and he picked up the panties. "No Clive. Suspenders first." He dropped the pants then struggled a little to get the belt fastened around his waist. "Now the pants." From the look on his face I knew he was enjoying the sensual pleasure of pulling on his mother's undies. Looking down I noticed his erection getting close to full. "I see Periscope Percy is getting in on the act again. He's insatiable. Down boy!" I told it, delivering a hard rap across the head with the flat of my nails. "Ouch!" he flinched then watched as the tumescence died away. "But thanks, I think. Maybe it's Periscope Petey, not Percy, saying 'Hello'?" He suggested tentatively. "What a lovely thought, Clive. Yes, that's it!" I bent over, kissed the tip of his dick – savouring the shiny wetness – and said, "I dub thee Periscope Petey. Now don't you dare!" I pointed a stern finger at PP as it twitched at my kiss. "You're a witch," he said, "That was magic how you did that. Hurt a bit but it was almost nice in a way." "You're beginning to see already, Clive, how pain in the right context can bring pleasure. Let me show you. Come, get that little footstool and sit here in front of me." I spread my thighs open. He sat up close as he was told and I could sense his nervousness. "Will you trust me, lover mine? Kiss me." I looked him in the eyes, not to dominate just to show him my love. He closed his mouth over mine and his kiss sent tingles down my spine. He kissed like ... no I won't say it again. This was getting weird. I started to caress his chest, squeezing the muscle as if it were a breast and letting my nails dig in a little. Not too much, I didn't want to scare him off, just enough to 'bite'. I scraped my nails over his erect nipples, slowly dragging them down as they caught under the nails. I took a firm grip on both his nipples then squeezed as hard as I could, pulling them out to give him small cone-shaped tits. His tongue inside my mouth just stopped in its tracks for a couple of seconds until I released my grip then it was suddenly trying to probe half way down my throat. I felt down below and sure enough, Periscope Petey was rampant again and I knew I had him. Parting our kiss and pulling on PP I said, "We're never going to get you looking pretty again with this. What do you want me to do with it?" Somehow I knew the old flick wouldn't work with this erection. "Will you suck it again please, my love?" It thrilled me to hear him say 'my love'. "I love having my face fucked. Would you like to fuck my face, lover?" "Oh, yeah!" His eyes lit up and he helped me scrunch around until my head was hanging over the edge of the bed. "Please, darling, take it slowly at first and don't forget I have to breathe. Now fuck me." He was slow and gentle putting it in, allowing me time to accommodate him and stifle the reflex. I put my hands round his buttocks to guide him and when he was all the way in, ignoring the twinges in my shoulder, I reached back and began stroking his bum in rhythm with him stroking his prick in and out of my throat. My lover's instinct was amazing, got his timing perfect first time. I kept stroking his bum, now and then straying over his anus. He flinched slightly the first couple of times then relaxed as I began to stray more often until I had one finger circling around his tight little hole. I sensed he was close to coming so I started drumming my fingertips right on his anus and his full load squirted deep in my throat to spread tingling right through my body. I eased him back out, then twisted my head so I could clean his tool properly: I wanted to taste some of it. "How do you know what to do, Gaygan?" he asked when we had got me sitting up again and he was on the stool in front of me, idly playing with my breast with post-coital content. "If you'd told me you would be playing with my arse I'd have said, 'No way, Jose'. I'm not gay just because I like to dress in ladies' things. But Gaygan, that felt like ... I don't know, I've never felt like that before. How do you know what to do to me?" "That works both ways, darling. That was as good a face fucking as I've had – and I've had more than a few. Clive, you are so much like my husband, I just KNOW how you'll react. I do to you what I would do to Petey if he were here." I shrugged. "Crazy isn't it. I'm just going with the flow so far." "You keep talking of Petey. Would you like to tell me about him?" I sighed as a lifetime of memories flitted across my mind. "Yes, I'll tell you about Petey. But first let's get you prettied up. Kiss me ... now where were we? Oh yes, you need to straighten your suspenders. You threw your knickers over there." He had no problems with Periscope Petey this time as I showed him how to thread the straps through his pants. He was purring as I showed him how to roll the stockings up his legs and fasten them to the suspenders. He'd got the hooks of his bra in the wrong place so I fixed him then padded his boobs out with stockings, pinching his nipples 'en passant'. I showed him to open the buttons and step into his dress rather than struggling over his head. "Next step, my dear, is to do your face. I don't keep many cosmetics these days," I indicated my wrinkled old face and shrugged. "Never mind, your mother probably has all we need. Help me up." I kissed him when he had me on my feet. Then he wrapped his arm round me, hand on tit I was happy to notice, and helped me walk to the master bedroom. He got me a chair and placed it next to the dressing table chair. I looked through the cosmetic drawers and selected what I needed which wasn't a lot. Nothing overdone on this face, I thought and proceeded to apply a very light foundation with an invisible brush of colour to his cheeks, just a hint of colour around the eyes to complement his lovely deep brown. A flick of mascara enhanced the lashes and he was done. I fluffed out his hair as well as I could, fished out a pair of light clip-on ear rings then turned him to look in the mirror. He gasped at the reflection of a very pretty young girl. "Tomorrow we'll do it properly," I told him. "This is just temporary but you'll do for today. Let's get back to my room and get comfortable." Chapter 3: Petey's story. I don't know who was helping whom the most as we made our way back He had his arm around me again but he was still unsteady on those heels. Soon we were both on my bed, sitting with our backs against the head rest. "We knew each other all our lives, me and Petey," I began. "He lived in the next street, we went to school together, we dated, we explored each others' bodies, he took my cherry and I was his first lover. We just did everything together. We were only 17 when we got married but we both knew that's all we wanted. Life wasn't always easy and we had our rows – honestly, Clive, if anybody tells you they don't argue with their spouse, I'll show you a lifeless marriage. Lesson, Clive: The loveliest thing about an argument is the making up. Petey and I both loved sex and were open-minded about everything. We were lovers even before we were married – and in those days that was a 'naughty-naughty' but we were careful and there was no child in my belly when I walked down the aisle. "We struck up a friendship with one of Petey's work colleagues and one day when we'd had a lot to drink we swapped partners, Mark screwed me as Petey screwed Sonia on the floor right next to us. Sonia and I kissed each other while the men had their way with us. That was really the start of it. We swapped with other couples, then it was three couples and so on. God we had some wild parties where anything goes. "One such was a fancy dress party and we decided to go as a whore and her pimp. At my suggestion and just for fun, he dressed as the whore. I had him practising in 4" pumps for a week before the party. But he was an instant success and very much in demand from the men. He didn't hesitate; he took them on, sucking them and even enjoyed getting his arse fucked. He screwed me into the mattress when we finally got home even though I'd had my fair share of the men and women at the party. Would you think that made him gay, enjoying having his are reamed out? No, it was just his, our, way of enjoying a wild libido. "If either of us had a fantasy, we would act it out: anything from him exposing my body to strangers to making love in the open where we might (and sometimes did) get caught. He even arranged for my rape fantasy to come true. We were caught, or so I thought, by seven big men. Two of them held a struggling Petey back threatening to beat him half to death if I didn't fuck them. Even though I was terrified while they made me strip and lined up to gangbang me one after the other. I noticed out the corner of my eye Petey joking with his 'captors', my screams in the ordeal were of pleasure but it wasn't until Petey himself got between my thighs that I was fully convinced about what had happened. He had arranged for these members of the local rugby team to waylay us. OK, had that happened for real, it would have been devastating but Petey's love made it right for me, for us. "What I'm trying to paint, Clive, is a picture of two very sexually active young people enjoying themselves without limit. I'm not saying we were out partying and fucking strangers every night, but those special times were always so exciting and we had each other for the rest of the time. "That is what sex between two devoted lovers can be. It doesn't have to be exclusive although many couples are faithful to each other all their lives. And that's fine if that's what suits them. Whatever you do, as you grow up, Clive, do it with a heart full of love." "Your Petey sounds like quite a man," he said thoughtfully. "Do you want me to be like him?" "You're already very much like him: just be yourself. But Petey took a lifetime to discover himself fully – we never really stop learning. But you, my sweet, are just starting your journey of discovery. When did you start dressing in your mother's clothes?" "I've been borrowing her knickers for a couple of years – I love the feel of the material round my dick as I wank. You don't mind me saying those kinds of words?" "I've never understood why this stupid language of ours says it's OK to call something by a long Latin word when our Anglo-Saxon heritage gives us a rich variety of shorter or better but forbidden words which mean the same thing. I've got a cunt, pussy, fanny, love tunnel, honey pot ... I could give you so many names for what I've got between my legs, all of them sound more exciting than the sterile 'vagina'. Likewise I have an arse, I've got tits, I piss, I shit, I fart and yes, I also wank. Well, I used to. Say what you mean: there's too much repression in this old world. But go on, you like to wank into the material, and I bet your mother knows: my son never managed to hide his traces on my knickers. When did you first put them on and when did you start on the bra?" "I've been putting the panties and bra on, oh, months now. Today I was going to wear a dress. I thought I had the house to myself, forgetting all about you." "What's your girlfriend's name, Clive?" I asked, changing the conversation to a different track. "Sandy," he replied. "I'd like to meet her. Do you think she would come if I invited her for dinner tomorrow? Phone her now and ask her. Does she like you wearing women's underwear?" "No she doesn't." "Does she know?" "Of course not." "Have you ever discussed it with her, even on a theoretical basis?" "No way. She'd say it was gross." "You seem so sure for a man who never asked the question. Lots of women are actually turned on by it. Like my sister, for example: she had an orgasm on the spot when Petey and I took my brother away and brought him back as a woman. Oh yes, Clive, I've had my brother many times, and my father, too." I smiled reminiscently. "He was very strict, my father, and often punished me when I 'led him astray'. Being a school teacher, he was a magician with the cane – back in those days teachers were allowed, encouraged even, to maintain strict discipline and a lick of the of the cane across the seat of a boy's trousers made him think twice before being naughty again. Once I couldn't sit down for a week but I just couldn't stop coming as he beat me silly. And then I had to kneel and suck his prick when he'd finished." I pulled Clive's hand down to my pussy: "You can see how wet I am just thinking about that. "Don't get me wrong, Clive: I'm not a pain slut who needs pain to get off and that wicked beating only ever happened once but it was the right time and the right place and we both wanted it. That's an important lesson: willing participation in whatever you do. "But back to Sandy. Don't put words into her mouth to match your own prejudices. You really don't know, lover boy. Grab that phone and invite her to dinner with us tomorrow." He called her and after chatting for a couple of minutes he asked me what time she should come and if I had a dress code. I asked for the phone and said, "Hello, Sandy. This is Gaygan, Clive's great grandmother. You've made an old lady so happy, it will be lovely to have you here. Clive has been telling me about you. No, my dear, he's given you a good report. If you can get here for five o'clock then we can have a good long cocktail hour and girl talk before dinner. No dress code, just be comfortable." I chuckled, "Or turn up starkers and give him a heart attack. Really nice to talk to you too: look forward to seeing you tomorrow at five. I'll turn a blind eye if you want to stay with Clive for the night. Bye 'til tomorrow, darling. Huggers. "That's settled then." I said to Clive. I rolled over to put the phone back on the bedside table and felt a very tentative smack on my bottom. I turned my head and smiled. "Do you really like that, Gaygan?" "Yes, it makes me horny as hell." He smacked again. "But when you do it, it it needs to be done properly: I need to feel it. Can we leave it for now, unless you really want to? I promise you will spank my bum, but later, OK?" Satisfied with that promise, he gave my bum a final firm slap then allowed his hand to linger over my buttocks in a gentle caress. Chapter 4: Stormy afternoon. I enjoyed his soothing stroking for several minutes then turned to look at him. He really did 'look the part' in his mother's clothes. With a sigh I told him that we should eat to keep up our strength. It was almost lunch time and we hadn't had any breakfast. He left to brew a pot of tea and make up a plate of sandwiches while I got dressed. I'd suggested we eat on the patio in the sunshine: the whole property was shielded from public eyes. I was thankful we were enjoying a heat wave so I could ignore the thermal underwear lying at the bottom of the drawer. I picked out a pair of demure black cotton panties trimmed with lace and the matching bra, I knew, would give my breasts all the help possible to make the best of my cleavage. I pulled a floral cotton print dress round me, deliberately leaving buttons open top and bottom and fastened the matching belt. Slipping into light sandals, I made my way to the bathroom for a couple of painkillers to ease my twinges then slowly downstairs. Clive passed carrying a plate of sandwiches from the kitchen to the patio wearing his mother's apron round his waist. He paused to give me a buzz on the lips then left me trailing in his wake. The table was set with two chairs comfortably close, facing into the sun. Bless him: my shades were lying next to my plate setting. I sat down and gratefully shut out the sun's glare then reached out and poured the tea for us both. We sat back munching on the sandwiches and sipping at our tea in quiet companionship. When the plate was bare and the pot drained of its last drops, Clive cleared the dishes away and returned minus the apron. He asked if I'd like to relax in the shade and helped me to the lounger in the shade of an old apple tree near the bottom of the garden, a lazy breeze stirring the heavy air just enough to give welcome cooling caresses. Clive went back to the house and returned with a cooler bag holding chilled mineral water. I watched him walking down the lawn looking every inch a pretty girl. He blushed a little when I complimented him. I noticed he had discarded those heels and was wearing more sensible sandals – a little heavy for a lady but passable. He set up another chair next to me and we sat there holding hands, chatting amiably. The conversation ranged far and wide but I slowly teased out of him some of his fantasies. Inevitably we talked about incest, both of us realising he was my direct descendant even though we were three generations apart. I told him how I felt about the taboo: he knew I had slept with my father and brother. I explained that so long as there was no offspring from the relationship, it was the same as sex between any two adults, with just that added piquancy of the taboo. The law was just slow in catching up. I had always been very careful with my contraception and no family sperm ever got near fertilizing my eggs. As we had talked, the sky had been slowly filling with clouds behind us. The air was now still and humid, frosting the cool water glasses each of us held. The insects buzzing and humming about us were the only sound except distant rumblings in the sky then the sunlight suddenly disappeared. A sudden gust of wind swirled around us: the sky overhead was quickly turning black. Big fat splats of water were peppering the leaves above us and they rapidly built up to a tropical downpour. Clive helped me out of my chair and was trying to hurry me back to the house but within a few steps we were both soaked to the skin. There came two brilliant flashes almost simultaneously followed closely by two massive cracks of thunder. My heart was beating with excitement: I stopped Clive, kissed him passionately and asked him to lay me on the wet grass and make wild love to me in the rain. For a brief second we held each other at arm's length. The rain had moulded his dress to the contours of his underwear; the light cotton almost transparent in the sluicing water. I felt my dress clinging to me and knew I was just as exposed. I saw the hungry desire in his eyes as he put me gently on my back and started opening my dress, struggling with the buttons until I told him to rip it off. He grabbed the deep collar just above my breasts and tore the buttons open. He dragged my pants off and I felt the rain drumming a tattoo on my skin and my pussy as I spread my legs ready to receive him. He was hitching the resisting dress over his waist and pulling his knickers down to reveal his throbbing erection. The rain and the flashes and the thunder had excited him too: he fell to his knees between mine and we both feverishly guided his flesh into my love tube. He drove into me filling me, his pubic bone jammed against mine then he started humping with long forceful strokes. I pulled my boobs out of my bra and he knelt up, intuitively sensing that I wanted to feel the rain on them, but he maintained his thrusting by pulling my hips over his thighs. Jenny Wren Ch. 01 I felt I at one with the storm raging around us, connected somehow with the trees thrashing in the capricious wind, I welcomed the gift of rain washing over me, I was conscious of the wet grass under me, the tiny twigs and other garden debris digging into my shoulders, they were me, I was them: I was at one with Mother Earth and performing Her primal act as my lover plunged relentless in and out. I looked into his eyes, aware of the rain streaming down from his matted hair, his eyebrows, ears, nose and chin. His makeup was running down his face then he flicked the rain contemptuously out of his eyes and I saw the feral glow in them when he returned my stare. He gripped my hips then pierced my soul with the words, "Just say when, Jennie Wren." Exactly what Petey used to say when he was primed and holding back waiting for my pleasure to build. "When, Petey, when, when, WHEN" I screamed and found myself flat on my back with Petey/Clive hammering inside my cunt. A startling flash of lighting triggered me and the following crash of thunder jerked me still higher until its boomed reverberations merged with my sobs of wonder. I became aware that he was holding me as my tears mingled with the rain. Eventually I took his face in both hands, looked into his eyes and querulously said, "Petey? My Petey?" A little puzzled, he replied, "No, Gaygan, I'm just Clive. But you can think of me as Petey any time you want." "But Clive, only Petey knew our phrase and his pet name for me. There's no way you could know them." "I don't know. When you looked at me like that, the words just came right out, I never even realised what I was saying until I'd said it and then you went into a world of your own.. But come on, we need to get you dried off and warmed up. We can talk as much as you like later." He was right, no longer fuelled by passion I did feel uncomfortable with my frock ripped apart, my tits hanging beneath my bra and my body exposed, but it had been a special sort of heaven and was worth the small discomfort. He helped me up from the ground and shepherded me across the slippery grass to the house. As suddenly as it had started, the rain stopped: the rumbles of thunder were sounding more distant as the clouds rolled away over the house. The sun was beginning to shine through as the heavens recovered from the storm. He soon had me out of the wet clothes, wrapped me in my bathrobe and dried my hair with a towel he has also snagged on his run upstairs. He set about patting me dry through the bathrobe and I told him to get out of his wet things. He stripped and I was amused by the sight of his penis shrivelled by the cold clammy material engulfing it. He left me sitting on the patio, once more warm and sunny, as he gathered up all the wet things and disappeared. I sat there trying to get my mind round what had happened, yet not knowing what to think. He did look like the young Petey but my mental picture of my husband was his later, 'lived in' face and the familiarity of Clive as he had grown from child to man hid the similarities from my eyes until today even though I was surrounded by pictures of my beloved.. My chaotic thoughts began to coalesce along a certain line. Counting back from his birthday, I realised he had been conceived the same week as I sat by that hospital bed and held Petey's hand while his life slipped away. Then I knew how Clive could say those words. With the conviction growing in my mind, I knew how Clive could make love to me as if he knew my body. He did know my body - intimately. Somehow Petey's spirit had crossed into the new life created in Mary's womb. Impossible! Crazy! But 'Just say when, Jenny Wren.' was the unavoidable clincher. I made my way back to my bedroom, via the bathroom, and sorted through my old pictures, selecting five. Picking up a hand mirror I returned to the patio. Clive was back dressed in shorts and a summer shirt. He had another pot of tea on the table and two cups poured ready. He's an angel, I thought as I thanked him and sipped at my tea, wondering how to say what was on my mind when he gave me the perfect opening. "What are those pictures, Gaygan?" I handed them one by one. "These are of my husband when he was about your age." I picked the largest, clearest picture up and held it in front of his face then held the mirror next to it. I watched his eyes as they flicked back and forth. My hands started wobbling a bit so he took the two articles in his hands and I saw the look of amazement cross his face. "We could be twins," he said. "Think about this, Clive. We've already made love several times – Oh, blessed day it has been thus far – and each time you have done it exactly as Petey would have done it. It's like you instinctively know what to do." He put the mirror and picture down and we held hands, watching each other closely. "Then you said something, a common enough phrase, 'Just say when,' but that was our special catch phrase. It was a natural thing to say at a party, but we both knew our own private interpretation, it meant the one who said it was ready to boil." I chuckled, "I think we may have surprised one or two of our by the teasing passion we could put into that phrase. "Anyway, more than that, you called me Jennie Wren. You've known me all your life as Gaygan. I'll grant you may have heard me called Aunt Jennifer or Aunt Jen at family gatherings but never Jenny. Jenny was what only he called me and Jenny Wren was a special secret accolade. How did you know? Yet you did know! "OK, the next bit is weird. What's your date of birth? Now work back about 39 weeks to your conception." I gripped his hand. "Petey died that same week. Exactly 20 years ago today." We sat for a while holding both hands and looking at each other, not really seeing, as both considered these strange coincidences. I finally broke the tension and refreshed our teacups. "I'm going to catch some of that!" I pointed to the late afternoon sun and shucked off my robe. Resting back in the warmth, I closed my eyes and calmed my racing thoughts. After a while I felt him lift my hand and kissed it. "I love you," he hesitated briefly, "Jenny Wren." He spent the next few minutes tenderly dabbing the tears away as they streamed silently down my face. Chapter 5: Evensong with pictures. As the sun turned over the corner of the house and shadows started to creep across the garden we moved back into the kitchen. The serious mood slipped away as he made us a scratch meal of cold meat and pickles with microwave chips, joking and flirting with me as he worked. When we finished the leisurely meal, he gathered the pots and set the dishwasher running. I told him to get the family photo albums out and get mine from my room – I had to tell him where to find them. I had several pictures of Petey as we had grown up together – building castles on the beach, wild eyed at the end of an exciting funfair ride, in his school uniform ... For each one I found, we found photos of Clive at similar ages in his development. Apart from the dated fashions and backgrounds, the photos could be of the same boy and youth. We spent a happy couple of hours poring over those pictures with me reminding him of where some of his older photos were taken and me again reminiscing over the pictures of Petey as we progressed through the years. I told him some scandalous bits of gossip about some of the strangers in my collection and related anecdotes about what Petey, or I, or both did with whom. We flirted with each other all evening with lots of hugs, kisses and groping: Periscope Petey was a permanent bulge in his shorts but never threatened to get out of control. When Clive put his albums away he carried mine upstairs. I followed him at my own speed and when I reached my room I asked him if he would like to see some more pictures, and tipped him an outrageous wink. His eyes were shining when I retrieved a couple of albums from a locked chest. Half-sitting side by side on my bed I took him through several groups of pictures of me as a younger woman, posing in revealing dresses, in sexy underwear, doing a strip routine, of me naked both before and after I got my tit and pussy rings. Glistening close-ups of my pussy showing everything, my nipples leaking milk from when I was nursing, ornamental attachments to my piercings or weights suspended. Me in all my proud glory. I opened the next album: now there were others in the pictures, more men than women but all naked or getting that way. There were pictures of me being fucked in every hole by cocks, tongues, fingers and a selection of fruits and vegetables. Sex in pretty well any way sex between two or more people can be accomplished. "Do women like it up the back passage, Jenny?" We had slipped naturally into 'Petey' and 'Jenny'. "Some do and some don't. Never push a woman that way if she doesn't want to go. It can hurt, especially if it's done roughly but once the prick is deep inside and the muscles have stretched to compensate, it is a lovely different way of fucking: I've had many an orgasm in anal sex. I leafed back through the pictures and showed him one of me on my knees, a massive tool just outside my arse which was still wide open with sperm bubbling through the sphincter. My semen splattered face was turned back to grin at the camera. "Do you think I just enjoyed that?" "I wouldn't mind betting you're wet down there just thinking about that picture!" His suspicions were confirmed as his hand found my pussy and then drifted down to finger my anus. "And I wouldn't mind betting you want to get your dick up there. Do you want to fuck my arse, Petey? Men say it's nicer because it's tighter. Now, grab that blue pot on my dresser. The back passage isn't lubricated like a pussy, you'll need some help." He stripped before returning and helped me out of my robe. I smeared the hard flesh of his tool with the cream then got on my knees in front of him. At my direction he lubricated the ring liberally and introduced a finger into my back passage as I explained how much better this made it for a woman – or a man! I got him to insert a second finger and the third a little while later was his own idea. When I was fully relaxed down there, I told him to put his tool in, but gently. He slid in easily as I stretched to take the extra girth then I pushed back at him, encouraging him to continue. I really love that feeling of being stuffed and re-stuffed with every stroke. I took the pressure off my knees and sank to my stomach: he followed me all the way. Having already come several times today I knew he would be in no hurry so I relaxed to enjoy the rhythmic probing. I fell into a luxurious reverie as small waves of pleasure suffused me with each stroke. After countless minutes of this heaven, I asked him to turn me over. He had to pull out but soon he had me on my back with my knees over his shoulders as he found my waiting hole and pressed home again. Ah, that hit a few different spots and intensified the pleasures washing through me. I felt my own climax building and whispered those words to him, "Just say when, Petey Boy!" Tantalisingly he kept to the same rhythm for endless seconds then suddenly gripped my hips, cried out, "When, when, Jenny Wren," and banged in. Oh, that was it for me: with his words ringing in my ears, a warm tingle spread from deep within my arse from where the head was repeatedly knocking and through my body. I was vaguely aware of his load pumping into my passage and of my own incoherent moans and through the mists I heard him calling "Jenny, Oh, my Jenny Wren ..." When we recovered, he cleaned us both up with tissues then we decided to watch a movie on TV: a gentle romantic comedy. He knocked up some finger snacks for our and we opened a bottle of wine to sip while we were watching TV. It was a lovely evening spent with his arm round my shoulders hugging me. Petey cleared away the supper dishes after the movie then rejoined me to finish off the wine. At 11:30 I put the lights out, positioned him on his back and with my mouth I brought Periscope Petey back to life. When he was nice and hard, I lifted one leg over his and slipped his tool into my waiting pussy but told him not to move a muscle. This was a hard lesson for him but the day's activities had drained away all the urgency so the movement of his body against mine stilled as I whispered endearments in his ear and told him to concentrate on his tool deep inside me and think of nothing else but the warmth engulfing it. For half an hour we just lay there; unmoving but intimately connected one to the other. It was a time out of time: the feel of that quiescent tool resting in me became the centre of my being. I could feel the heat generated by my own blood supply surging through my loins, generating a steady leak. I could feel his blood throbbing to keep his erection alive, pulsing through his shaft. It felt like a furnace down there. I have an old fashioned clock in my bedroom, one which sounded the Westminster chimes every quarter-hour. As the gongs sounded out the tune for midnight I told my lover still not to move but to get ready to come. As the first stroke of midnight I whispered, "Come for me, Petey. Come with me." Still unmoving I felt the surge of his tool delivering its load and my whole body was suffused with love for him as the furnace burned through every nerve of my body, every 'bong' of the clock generated a further surge of this ecstasy. As his softening tool slipped out he hugged and kissed me and declared his love. "It's midnight, Petey. Do I win the bet?" I asked. In the darkness and the silence of the night I heard him agree, "You win, Jenny Wren. I'm all yours." I drifted off to sleep conscious of his arm lovingly round me, resting on my breast, and conscious of his semen leaking from my pussy. ~ooOoo~ Did you enjoy this story? Feedback and comments are always welcome. Don't forget to vote by clicking the radio button below. Qdata.