Crystal's StorySite


My Mother, My Lover; Her Satin, My Sin

by Georgina


Chapter 6


That afternoon was a sensual experience I will always treasure for the rest of my, by now, short life. Julia and I went out of the boudoir and down the hallway to where mother waited for us in the drawing room. She was still in her lingerie and lay back on the chaise - longue, elegant and sumptuous in her nightgown and negligee. Almost imperiously, she raised her hand; index finger extended and gave a little circular motion, commanding me to do a twirl. I spun around on my heels, my silk skirts and flouncy, taffeta and lace, petticoats swirling around my nyloned limbs.

'Pretty,' She said, smiling softly. 'Very delectable, don't you think so, Julia?'

'Excessively so, my lady.' I heard her whisper back from just behind me. 'Will give my little Antonia a very definite run for her money.'

They laughed gaily at that and I felt Julia slide her hands onto my waist and her body mould itself against my back, pressing her firm, delectable breasts against me.

'Go then, my lovelies,' Mother then commanded, again imperiously. 'As we are having an evening en quatre, take Georgina to Harrods and let her pick an evening gown for herself. She is a standard size 10, from what I can see.'

I was thunderstruck. 'Dressed like this?' I managed to barely croak in my panicked state of mind.

Mother smiled. 'Who will know?' She asked. 'From where I am you are a perfect young lady. Unless you do anything foolish, such as show your yourself in flagrante delicto, shall we say, then no one will be any the wiser.'

I looked across at the cheval mirror that adorned the left side of the room. I suddenly realised that they were right. Without any shadow of a doubt I was an extremely fanciable young lady, in fact I could, and certainly did, fancy myself in an extremely narcissitic way. Although still slightly apprehensive, I knew I could pull it off. I pulled away from Julia's soft embrace and came across to mother and, kneeling down, leaned forward and kissed her on her scarlet lipsticked lips. This was no peck, but a soft and sensuous kiss of love, gratitude, excitement and a tinge of pure, unadulterated, illicit, incestuously so, lust. Mother responded by giving a long and panting, almost inaudible moan, Her hand slid up and gently, like thistledown, she captured my tittie, caressing softly the silk sheathed mound, palm sliding over a suddenly turgid nipple. My own body, hard under the satin of corset and French knickers, throbbed and I was glad that I had slid it into a condom, so as not to make a mess. I suddenly sensed that Julia was beside me and, as I broke the kiss, she took my place and kissed mother on the lips as well, in a deeply sensuous, lesbian kiss. I found the sight incredibly exciting. It was the first time that I had seen two gorgeous women embracing so, and it was intensely erotic. You know, gentle readers all, as an aside, I wonder if a film of this little tale would ever be made. We can all acquire films of rutting she males and various partners of all genders and dysphorias, but would any one produce a feature film of such a delicate, yet graphic eroticism such as we like. Probably never. The production and costume costs would be too high, and the audience probably too narrow to make money, though I fancy that little Dani from Brazil could play an excellent me. She loves girls too. Still, this does not tell the tale, much as I would like to see it on screen. Come on, producers; see what you can do in an artistic sense, for a change.


We at last broke our kisses and caresses, and rose to firstly, repair our make up and then go out, for myself, it was a first adventure out in the open. For a moment I quailed, trembling slightly, but Julia smiled, whispering that it would be alright, that no one would ever suspect anything. It was a balmy, warm afternoon and Harrods was within walking distance. Being midweek, and tourism was not the fashionable thing it is today, the streets were quiet. We knew nothing of gridlocks or traffic calming measures in those heady days of the early fifties, Rover cars, Jaguars, Austin sevens, Rolls Royce's and Bentleys swished sedately down Knightsbridge. Pretty girls, out for a late lunch popped into fashionable coffee shops. Men, dressed in dark, pinstriped suits, bowler hats on heads, umbrellas in hand, sauntered down the street, giving admiring glances at all the pretty girls, who smiled back. There was an atmosphere, now long gone, of a genteel flirtatiousness, a flowing prettiness, and a safety one does not find today. Time has not dimmed in any way the emotions and memories I have. Not once in those days did I feel threatened in any way. Some say it was the War that had changed peoples' actions and perceptions, I do not know. Maybe it was the privileged existence that we led, and the particular area we inhabited, all I know is that, after a few yards, and several very admiring looks at us sauntering down the street, arm in arm, that I started to actually enjoy our experience. Very soon we were in the store and making our way to the eveningwear department. A plethora of gowns and dresses met my eyes. Long and flouncy, short and sheath like, mid calf and flowing, or a mixture, and all in fine fabrics, ranging from heavy, lustrous satin to light and flouncy, broderie Anglaise. Gorgeous silk velvet and shirry, whispering taffeta, delicate, gossamer like silk and sumptuous Jacquard, all there for me to feel, gaze at and try on. A total dream of such delight as to make me tremble, but not with apprehension, with total, unfeigned delight. Mother was right. At that time I was a definite small 10, in later life I managed, until recently, to keep a perfect 12, English size that is, and my titties were never larger than a pert B. Even my 'cockette', as mother called it, was grossly average, but, as one of my lovers in later life said, 'Its not the size that matters, its how you use it.' And she enjoyed it for a very many years.


With uniformed sales girls, and they were very pretty, and very smart, in their black skirts and white cotton blouses, with a black silk bow at the neck, fussing around us, and mother's account at the shop being quite open-ended, we bought, eventually, not one, but three dresses. The first was a long, calf length, strapless sheath in my favourite fabric, lusciously heavy and deliciously smooth, aquamarine duchesse satin. The second was a cocktail dress, there is a pun on words, this in heavy, black, silk velvet, strapless as well, but with a bolero jacket to keep it decorous when going out to wherever the function was. The third was a long, flowing gown of deliciously sexy, taffeta, with a velvet bodice and spaghetti straps, dark green, rifleman's green, if I remember correctly, taken from the uniform of the 95th of foot, the Royal Green Jackets of today. I knew it would complement the auburn hair I had inherited from mother. The whole lot came to over three hundred pounds, a fortune in those days, but the labels said it all, Dior and Balenciaga for the gowns, and Jacque Fath for the dress. Need I say more? We went back to our home, a uniformed porter from Harrods carrying our purchases for us, he was a charming boy, dressed as he was in the dark brown, yellow piped uniform that they wore. Julia was actually quite smitten and, on reaching our flat, gave him a soft peck on the cheek. That was extremely forward for those days. I did not of course, as befits an 'innocent' young lady, anyway, I did not take a fancy to boys, I much preferred girls, always have. Its rather nice being a lesbian really.


Mother approved of our purchased finery and asked me what I would wear. As it was to be an informal dinner, Only Julia and Antonia with us, I decided to wear the cocktail dress. I went and put it on, then modelled it for them. They both admitted that it suited me perfectly, emphasising the fact by coming up to me and caressing my trembling body. It wasn't long before we found ourselves in Mother's boudoir and they were both stripping me of my finery to leave dressed in only a black satin, Guiperre and nylon stockings, along with a pair of French knickers that did nothing to hide my tumescence. Oh, and a pair of high heeled court shoes. I was laid down onto the mink-canopied bed and then both mother and Julia divested themselves of their outer clothing, mother shrugging off her peignoir and Julia her dress to leave them resplendent in their lingerie, mother in her satin nightgown, along with a garter belt, in matching satin, nylons and heels, Julia in a gorgeous dove grey satin slip and grey, fully fashioned and seamed stockings and her shoes as well. There is nothing as sexy as a woman in lingerie and stilettos, I say. They were embracing at the foot of the bed and, as I gazed at them with awe, they were both so incredibly beautiful; they kissed and caressed their bodies. My body was painfully hard, throbbingly aroused, aching for release, tenting out the front of the knickers and feeling larger than it had ever been before. My hands slid up and cupped my tender titties, feeling my nipples hard, sensitive to the slightest touch, palms gliding over the smooth and shiny satin, drawing out the feelings of total desire and lust.


The two ladies broke their embrace, lips parting with a distinct sucking whisper and gazed down at me. Mother was distinctly flushed with arousal, body trembling slightly.

'Oh Goddddd!' She suddenly moaned. 'I can't wait till tonight. I must have 'her'. I cannot wait to take this dirty little girl and make her totally mine.'

Julia looked at mother. 'Shall I leave you then?'

'God, no!' Mother said. 'I want you here, with us. I want you to watch a mother making love to her child. Then, tonight, we can watch you doing it to your little Toni. You told me you have always wanted to do it with him, but were too apprehensive about it. Well, darling girl, watch a mother take her child, watch her commit incest!'

Julia sat down on the bed beside me with an unbelieving look at mother.

'Ohhh, yessssss !!!!!!' Mother moaned softly. 'I have waited many years for this.' Her hands slid up to her breasts and, as we gazed at her, she nipped her prominent nipples with her scarlet-varnished fingernails. 'Ever since I found out about you and your 'petite fetiche, ma belle fille.' I have desired you, totally. My body craves for you, my mind is totally obsessed with you, my entire soul is on fire, in turmoil, come my child.' With that mother slid onto the bed, kneeling above me, straddling my body. 'Come, come baby.' She crooned as she gazed down at me. 'Come back into me. You were in me, and then you left. Now baby, come back to where you belong, come back to mother.'

Julia, lying down on the bed beside now, gasped, as I did, at mother's lewd, perverted words. Some people would say that she was mad; others would say that she was criminally insane, or that I was for condoning such actions. Yet, my gender, though male in genetics, was not oppressively so and was a perfect match for her sexual make-up and desires. Our love for each other was complete. Our desires were complementary and our wishes matched totally. We were as one in our wants and needs. In our daily lives we were normal in our deeds and actions. We caused no harm to either ourselves or others, enjoying everything and totally fulfilled. Apart from a few, very few, selected friends, no one ever knew, unless they peeked under my swirling skirts, and no one ever did that without my permission.


Julia turned on her side towards us and her soft hand slid onto my satin-sheathed breast, fingers gently nipping at my hard, tender and receptive nipples. It seemed that sexual arousal made my titties swell and become more full so that they actually filled the A cup of the Guiperre. My nipples were especially sensitive now and as Julia slid a fingernail over the turgid nubbin, scrapingly delicate, I shuddered, blessing my gynaecomastia, with total desire, and my body writhed sinuously on that opulent and luxurious mink spread. My eyes though, never left mother's body as she knelt above me, glorying in the sight of her as she swayed to music that we could only hear in our minds. Her hands were caressing her own titties and the sight of a lovely, mature woman, excitingly making love to her own body was beautiful as to almost defy description. All the time she was gazing down at me, a soft dreamy smile on her face as she carried on whispering hotly to me, words of sheer, carnal perversity and total desire. Mother slowly lowered herself so that her body brushed against my turgid length as it lay, hard, throbbing and very ready, against my belly. The soft lips, slick and oily with her secretions, parted so that the inner slit almost covered the length and the heat was almost, to my own overheated senses, too much to bear. I groaned at the sensations, so wild, so utterly piquant, that flashed through me. This was the first time that our parts had touched directly, skin to skin, and I could see the pink, parted lips encasing almost the entire length. At the top I could discern her hard clitty, pink, twitching as it slid along the underside of my coquette and, as it scraped over the glans, I gave out a low groan of lust. My tummy twitched and with that my hardness gave a twitch, at the precise moment when her body was as open to me as it ever would be. Mother screamed as the head bumped against her clitty and then slid, unerringly, into the deep, meltingly hot, channel of her vagina. My own cry joined hers as I felt, for the very first time, the incredible sensation of my body sliding deep into the body of a beautiful woman. It was done, bar the shouting. We, mother and I, had crossed that boundary that many people want to cross and few do so in a mutually agreeable way. There was nothing left now to do apart from continue to the very end and explode into total orgasm, and nothing on earth would stop us now.


Beside me I heard Julia gasp in disbelief at the evidence of her sight and I glanced across at her. She had moved away and was now on her back, one hand sliding over her satin slipped body and the other delving down to caress the soft secret spot at the juncture of her thighs. Her face was a mask of pure and aroused passion as she gazed at our conjoined bodies. Mother slowly leaned down till her lovely features were but a scant few inches from mine and she parted her luscious and full, yet trembling and soft, lips.

'Kiss me, suck me, and love me!' She moaned and then our lips meshed again in that most forbidden of embraces. 'Come, my hot, sweet, sexy little girl, make love to mother!'

I moved, writhing, satin on luxurious fur, sliding, just delicately and gently, in and out of my beautiful mother as her naked, hard-nippled breasts meshed with my satin covered titties. All the time we kissed, hot, wet, sucking kisses, panting, tongues flicking in and out of mouths, in time to the slow, writhingly sensuous dance of love. Dimly, through my own mists of passion, I heard as Julia softly screamed in her own ecstasy as her first, one of many that afternoon, orgasms overwhelmed her shuddering body. Slowly, patiently, deliberately, mother and I climbed those steps that lead to total and abject ecstasy that lead to a form of orgasmic pleasure so intense, so total, and so consuming as to deny consciousness in all its forms. I knew that this would be such an earth shattering experience as to defy all other pleasures on earth. Time stood still, only the slow build up to climax had any meaning for us now. Hands came into play, mine sliding up her naked back, pulling her towards me even more, hers insinuating themselves between our joined bodies to nip and pinch the incredibly tender nipples that were underneath the heavy and smooth satin of the Guiperre. I arched my back at the incredibly pleasurable pain, driving my hardness deep into the melting sheath of the maternal body. At that moment, mother stiffened in my arms and gave a low, soft moan and I felt the walls tremble around my buried hardness, spasm and then grip me tightly, almost painfully, as she shuddered into her first orgasm. It had the effect of calming me down as I too was on the verge of spilling my glutinous seed in climax. For timeless seconds we froze, locked together in unholy lust, she panting soft screams into my mouth. The spasms slackened, then stilled and we started the gentle climb once more, going even higher in our perverted lusts.


Twice more mother came, each one more powerful than the other, and each time it seemed to calm me down more, even though the pleasure washing through my feminised body was becoming more and more intense. After her third come I knew that I could not deny myself the pleasure of my own come any more and so, with a quick flick of my loins, I slid out of her body and, with the soft, sibilant whisper of nylon as our limbs slid one against the other, I turned her onto her back and, raising myself on my arms, slid back inside her welcoming body. She moaned as I slid back into her and her hands came up to capture my tender breasts, palms gliding over the satin cups, long, encarmined nails nipping at my sensitive and aroused nipples that punched out the satin in their utter excitement. Slowly, powerfully, I took control, moving my haunches in a slow, pistoning motion, driving my steel hard body into the incredible tightness of my deliciously beautiful mother as she writhed, almost lost in her own ecstasy, beneath me.


I glanced across at Julia, who reclined gracefully on the bed beside us. Her own features mirrored those of mother as she caressed her own body, hands gliding over dove-grey satined titties and pussy, lost in her own miasma of forbidden desire, eyes glued hotly to where our own bodies were conjoined in total incestuous union. Panting wildly she was rubbing herself to a hot orgasm and I leaned across and lowering my face to hers, kissed her hotly, sucking on her panting, wet and trembling lips. It was enough to bring on her own climax and with a scream of pure ecstasy, she shuddered with the raw emotion that blasted through her willowy, glisteningly satin lingeried, body. Mother had started to convulse under my relentless assault on her desire, wave after orgasmic wave rippling through the tight, milking sheath that encased my coquette, bringing me too to the absolute brink of ecstasy. Her hands slid down to capture my still satin knickered cheeks, pulling me deeper into her. I had never imagined the pleasure that I would get from making love to a woman, my erect body clasped deep in the molten crucible that was a woman's centre of desire, but it was so intense as to cut out all sensations apart from the very nearest vicinity. The whole world could have exploded and I would not have known. The entire world now consisted only of the sum total of my desires. I was dressed and made up as a beautiful girl, in gorgeous lingerie that encased and excited me. Firmly boned satin clasping me, suspendered nylons tugging gently at each movement of my limbs, full, sensitive titties imprisoned within the strapless Guiperre, hard nipples sliding delicately under glossy satin, nipped occasionally by mother's nails, nylon caressing nylon as our limbs hissed, one against the other, soft, luxuriant fur and the utterly delicious, thoroughly wicked, totally depraved and completely forbidden mating of an androgynous child with his/her mother. Bliss!!!


Below me my gorgeously excited mother seemed to be in a state of constant climax, head rolling from side to side, hands now mauling her own titties, then mine, moaning at times, then giving out panting screams as a fresh wave of feeling washed over her. My tempo increased, moving faster and faster into her and I was close to achieving my desires. Suddenly, mother's lithe, long limbs came up and wrapped themselves around my body and her feet, still shoed in her black, stiletto heeled courts pushed my buttocks so that I was driven as deep into her as I could go, and held me there. The tight slick sheath of rippling muscles seemed to draw the very essence of my life out of me, focussed so precisely on that small, relative to my body, yet steel hard and sensitive appendage that was the only visible sign of my maleness. The roaring in my ears drowned out all but the most close of sounds, and they I heard but dimly through the miasma of my own impending come. Mother's weak and panting screams as she writhed so hotly beneath me, perspiration sheened face tossing from side to side, Julia moaning as she watched our intense loving, sliding from orgasm to countless, by now, orgasm. I managed, somehow, to glance across at her and saw, but through a cloud of my own passion, her willowy body undulating, features wild, excessively beautiful in her orgasmic state, hands a blurring with the urgent need to pull every single tiny nuance of ecstasy from the very inner core of her being. At that moment, with a hammer blow of pure pleasure, I started to convulse, shudder and spurt my white, sticky seed deep into the very body, so lithe, so sensuous, so totally designed for love, body that had conceived, nurtured, carried and given birth to me. I still cannot, even to this day, though I remember the episode as vividly as if it had happened but twenty minutes earlier, describe the sheer sensations that exploded through my own trembling, writhing, trapped body. All I was aware of was the powerful contractions of my loins, the sheer power of the ejecting seed, the pleasure that overexcited nerves throughout my entire body gave to me as they exploded into a massive detonation of such sweet feelings as to send me, finally, into a blackness from which I did not think, at that final moment, that I would come back from. Yes, sweet readers, I fainted at the end and knew no more. The French, as they would of course, have a phrase for this most rare of all climatic explosions. They call it 'La petite Mort', the little death, and so it was.


I awoke, alone and under the opulent mink of the bedspread, they must have slid me under it while I was out, and stretched luxuriously, writhing over the satin I lay on, enjoying, albeit softly not urgently with arousal, the feel of the slinky smooth fabric over my satin and nyloned body. Just then mother came in, looking, as always, extremely beautiful and fresh now having bathed and dressed for the evening ahead. She sat down on the bed beside me, a symphony of beauty in her short, strapless evening dress of heavy and luxurious silk velvet, sheathlike and clinging, deeply plush, and a deep shade of midnight blue.

'Julia has gone home to get Toni ready.' She said as her slim hand touched and caressed my cheek. 'They will be back in just over an hour for dinner.'

'How long have I been asleep?' I asked.

'Two hours.' She replied, smiling gently down at me. 'Up you get, my sweetness, and get yourself ready. I will help you after your shower.'


Ten minutes later I was sitting in front of the dressing table with mother crouched before me applying my make up. I was dressed in my best lingerie, a lovely, high waisted suspender belt, more of a waist cincher really, in heavy, glossy, black satin, with six suspenders that attached to the most luxuriously delicate and utterly sensuous, black, sheer, fully fashioned, seamed nylon stockings. A matching satin, short, bandeau, strapless brassiere held my burgeoning titties delicately in a gentle yet decorous embrace. My nipples, seemingly always excited, punched little pebbles of desire through the slinky fabric. On my feet was a pair of gorgeously elegant evening sandals with three inch heels. My ever ready coquette, oh the excitement and arousal of youth, was swathed in the diaphanous folds of a scrunchy pair of silk-satin French knickers, every so often caressed gently by mother as she made up my face in that immaculate way that was a hallmark of the fifties. It made me look about seventeen, and, truly beautiful, I could even fancy myself. After she had finished, and that took nearly half an hour, she led me into the dressing room where I chose the dress I was to wear that evening. I changed my mind, we girls are entitled to that you know. It was the satin sheath dress in aquamarine I had bought that morning. As the dress was lined in gorgeous taffeta, I did not need a slip to go under it, but my hardness was a very prominent giveaway and had, as mother murmured in my ear, to be 'controlled'. I wondered what that meant, and soon found out.


That wonderful woman, as I stood before her, still in my lingerie, slid to her knees and pulled down the French knickers to leave me naked to her gaze and touch. My hardness quivered as she slid her soft, gentle hands over the sensitive, trembling length. I looked down to see her lovely features come closer and then, shockingly, she parted her richly carmined lips and, grasping me, mother engulfed me in the hottest, wettest, most salaciously exciting caress that I had ever felt. A soft murmur of pleasure emanated from her as her hot tongue lashed at the very sensitive head of my engulfed body. Then came the soft sucking, oh how soft, yet so terribly arousing. I screamed as my orgasm blasted, instantly, out of my trembling body, the sheer ecstasy of that first episode of fellatio totally destroying my composure and the feelings ripping my soul to shreds. I had thought that the orgasmic sensations of making illicit, incestuous love to my mother was the pinnacle of sensuous ecstasy, but I was totally wrong and it was then that I realised that I would, in time, have far more. I was still standing, albeit on very weak and trembling limbs, as mother finished. I watched in amazement as she swallowed all of my sticky seed, licking her lips, and her fingers which had taken the overspill, clean, purring softly to herself like a well fed cat. She smiled up at me and then reached out and slid on me a firm gripping, satin panty that held my, by now deflated, body down between my legs and gave me a smooth, womanly, line down the front. Seconds later she was sliding that wonderful, heavy satin sheath dress up my still trembling body. The feeling of the cool taffeta lining on my still hot, temperature wise of course, body was just heavenly, but I was so drained that it caused but a tiny twitch in my quiescent body that was tucked away so firmly. I then slid on the a matching bolero jacket, it had one as well as the velvet sheath, as I wanted to look as demure as possible, even though I knew that was a lie of the first order. I went out into the drawing room and sat down on the chaise longue, leaving mother to repair her make up.


Ch 7.----




2004 by Georgina. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.