The Slip

by

Georgina

 

It was quiet in my place of rest. I lay there, peaceful, warm, surrounded by my little friends, my companions, waiting, always waiting for a chance to come out and see something of the world. I was something special though as I was desired by a creature of such magnificent youth and such deep emotions as to excite jealousy amongst the rest of my coterie of fellows. They were always on call for my mistress and were used and abused, willy–nilly on an everyday basis whilst I was on call for special occasions only, but by a master as well as a mistress. But, though my companions were treated to all manners of vicious treatments, I was lovingly caressed, tenderly treated and always handled in a deferential way as to make me feel so superior to all my other co-habitués of our dark, warm and perfumed home. My mistress was a lovely and slim lady of thirty-four and my master a slim; yet surprisingly pretty youth of fourteen, with similar features, and even curves, of my mistress. My mistress loved me for the way I enhanced her beauty, excited her companions and bosom friends, and generally soothed her with my delicate caresses and intimate, perfumed embrace. My master, on the other hand, was such a passionate and hot child, well, youth really, who adored me to the point of total and abject, desire. Where she, my mistress, clothed me in expensive and luscious fabrics of silk, taffeta velvet and satin, my companions were more used to common fabrics such as cotton, wool and sometimes, ugh, nylon, my master loved to show me to the outside world. It was with my master that I truly felt the caress of warm air and the feeling of being the only companion with him on our erotic, nay, totally passionate, adventures.

I was born, or should we say, created, five years earlier, in a small, one-person establishment in Paris. The year was 1950 and my creator was a lovely woman of barely twenty-three, but a person of rare talent and with an ability so excellent as to command the highest prices for her creations. Not only was she sought after by the wealthy and elegant ladies who came to her for her creations, but she pandered to their wishes and desires by creating perfect, fitted and well crafted items for them, for she was a seamstress of the highest order and her creations were of the finest lingerie that money could buy. I was a full, fitted slip, but not any slip, made in a massive way, on a production line, out of common fabric, such as nylon or cotton, but out of rich, sumptuous, glossy, sinfully black, smooth satin, with ecru lace at bust and hem, chantilly lace at that, the finest of all, hand made, of the finest twisted silken threads. I had been ordered, not by my mistress I may add, but by one of her male companions, a lover who also had a liking for such as I, but as an adornment on a lovely lady, such as my mistress, and bought as a present for her. Along with me came a matching pair of sexy French knickers, my cousin who resided in another apartment just above mine in the fine walnut, Louis the Fourteenth style chest of drawers that resided in my mistress's boudoir. We were a fine and haughty pair, envied and disliked, as I have said before, by the remainder of the common lingerie that my mistress wore. We were a fine pair though and always went out together; both delighting in caressing each other's fine fabric. Well, we could do no other as we were always in such close proximity and we were treated as one complete entity.

My first encounter with passion and lust was on the day I was presented to my mistress, that evening in fact. I was barely three weeks old. I had a first look at her as she opened the tissue wrapped parcel that afternoon on New Years Eve of 1950. She was a beautiful, nay, stunningly luscious woman of slim build with long, silky, lustrous, auburn hair that cascaded down, almost to her waist. Her heart shaped face was teamed with a trim, delicate nose, high cheekbones and a pair of exceedingly large, luminous green eyes that always seemed to smile whenever they looked at me. Her skin was smooth, pure, fine, almost white parchment, yet far more delicate than any known before to man. Her figure, though slim, was pure woman and, belying the two facts of childbirth and age, she was barely twenty-nine, showed not a trace, bar several, almost invisible, striations on her trim, flat belly, of her age. Her breasts were truly beautiful, even though she had nursed her beloved child on them and did not show even a trace of sagging, having returned to her pre child state with only an increase of cup size from A to B. She was quite an athletic person and loved both gymnastics, pre-war she had been national girl's school champion, and ballet, which she had trained at till she was a valued member of the corps de ballet at Covent Garden till 1941 when she became pregnant, at the age of seventeen, with my future master, and true lover. Ballet girls start dancing in the Corps de Ballet at fourteen.

I had enjoyed those encounters between my mistress and her lovers, glorying in the sheer lust that crackled the air around us with static, and the mixed scents of fine perfume and sheer sex, mingling excitedly together, along with the scintillating sounds of rustling fabrics, panting moans and groans and the softly uttered screams of ecstasy. Occasionally we were taken out by a different pair of hands, these belonging to the male child of my mistress. He was an ethereal being and though male, he had the very features of his mother, along with the delicate, willowy body, even to the fact that he had more than a vestige of breasts, quite unmanly to be precise, though my companion quite categorically told me that he had a very ready set of male implements whereas my mistress had a definitely finely sculpted slit. We both, as you can imagine, were experts, living as we did in such close proximity to, human bodies. We were both amazed at the sheer excitement that we engendered in this child. His hands caressed us and his skin shivered as he held us close to his body, draping us against his skin. The raw heat and passion that emanated from his body was such as to amaze us both as it was a passion directed just at us.

Over time, years to be precise, we were used less and less by my mistress, she seemed to have foresworn any other company but that of her child, my master, but we were not unhappy because we were still extremely occupied with my master who had soon grown to be almost the perfect size to allow us to be not just draped against him but to embrace his fevered, hot body in a totally full way when he slid us on for the first time. That was an occasion none of us would ever forget. Our mistress had had to go away for an overnight stay with her family, some domestic crisis, and we were alone in the house with our master for a full day and a night, in fact up to the late evening of the following day. We, I especially, knew that our master had even deeper and darker thoughts than just us. Deep, urgent and dark currents of a desire to lie, and do the things other men had done, to my mistress. It thrilled me immensely as, though my companion was usually discarded early on in the proceedings before, I usually was left for the full and utterly exciting sessions of passionate lovemaking that followed. I adored being caressed and fondled and these thoughts of forbidden desire made my master tremble so much with lust that it sent him into an almost perfect, orgasmic state.

Unknown to you poor, mere mortals, we can see deep into the minds of our owners, reach down to the very core of your basic desires, wants and needs. You made us and we respond. My master came to us especially that day, after his mother had gone and took us out of the drawers in which we lay. He laid me reverently on the mink counterpane of his mother's bed, next to my friend and several more items of feminine apparel, a pair of sheer, seamed, fully fashioned, black Aristoc stockings, a deep, black satin, panelled, suspender belt and, on the floor, a lovely pair of strappy, three inch heeled sandals. He disappeared for a while and we heard my mistress's shower running. After a long time waiting we heard it stop, but our young master did not come out for quite a while, but his feelings, his emotions were so powerful, so intense that we felt them as if he were here, with us, in this very room. There was also a love for us that we had never felt before from anyone else. We all, me especially, waited in total anticipation of what was to come. Though outwardly there was no sign, we were, to human eyes, just scraps of scintillating fabric, the aura we felt around us so intense as to be all pervading, like a delicate yet all encompassing and ethereal mist.

Then, he/she walked out and we knew why we had had to wait for so long. Our young master, nay, new mistress we shall say, had been busy at her mother's cosmetic collection and had transformed into a wondrous and delicately youthful version of her mother, slim, high breasted, yes, almost a B cup I thought, but with the shockingly erotic anomaly of a hard and throbbing male member of no uncertain size, especially considering her youth, barely fourteen, and exceedingly coltish figure. My whole aura was shaken. This was not to be just a fumble and caress. No urgent butting of a weeping head, trying to get into the inside past my barrier, exciting though it was for me. It was not a human trying to get past me after having been aroused by the sight of my elegance as I was draped around my mistress's body. This was to me to be a one on one love affair where I was to be loved, just for me alone. It was so, ever so thrilling, this wait and now, as I beheld this creature before me I knew that I would be totally encompassed by such emotion, such raw sexuality as I had ever felt in my closeted life.

She looked down at me and I marvelled at the exquisite beauty, delicate and sensuous, with a virginal quality that I knew I was to take. She would eventually lie, in deep embrace, with women, with men, I could feel her attraction to those boorish creatures as well, though as yet unformed, but I would be her first, and always true, lover. The whole fabric of me, yes, pun intended, was in a fever that only increased as she reached the bed and very delicately caressed my rich, sinfully black, slippery, scintillating, shiny self. However, I was not to be the first garment she would put on. Her delicate caress ceased as her hot hand left me, my time would come soon, but I felt bereft. We are all creatures who long for contact, are we not made, or created to be worn next to the skin as a garment of deep and significant meaning. To encompass and enhance a usually imperfect body, though not in this case. We all secretly, amongst ourselves agreed that she was a superlative creature of unsurpassed beauty and carnal sexuality, directed at us in general and me in particular. My companions knew this but did not in any way resent my pre-eminence in my lover's eyes. We, the aristocrats of her lingerie world, are beyond such emotions and are just happy to be loved, all of us drawing from the fountain, all of us delighting in each other's pleasure. Yes, I was to be their fountain and they would all drink from it. Not the common nylon and cotton though. They were resentful of their inability to excite such raw emotions such as the likes of us, the crème de la crème.

We would have to wait a bit longer though as she slid her naked body onto the utterly luxurious mink counterpane. Face down, her svelte nakedness writhed on the sumptuous softness of the delicate mink, full titties, hard nippled and sensitive to the tactile caress of the fur. Hard and throbbing penis sliding through the thick pile. She groaned and rolled over and the first signs of an approaching orgasm showed in the weeping ooze of a pre-orgasmic state. She arched her back, hands sliding up slim flanks and soft skin of abdomen to cup and caress those incongruous titties to finally tease, with long fingernails, the turgid, highly sensitive nipples. We could feel her ecstasy as it emanated from her in waves, washing over us as we shared her incipient climax. It was good to feel and, as youth is such a quick recoverer we knew it was for the best. An instant explosion now would guarantee more extended pleasure for us. The soft groans of desire turned to panting screams of lust and finally the long, drawn out cry of climactic fulfilment as, without even touching that trembling shaft of proud, hard flesh, she ejaculated a long, sticky stream of white, glutinous seed that arched high and then, as gravity took over fell in globules of opalescent droplets on her face. Another one, as powerful followed, then the succeeding ones lessened till, at last, after about twelve spurts, the final effort was a meagre dribble that barely slid down the silky skin of the trembling organ. It was done.

After a few, panting minutes, she stood up from the bed and tottered back to the bathroom to clean up. Several minutes later, dry, perfumed and now in control, her hardness soft, almost insignificant, she came out and approached us, at last with intent. Firstly, she picked up the deep, boned, black satin suspender belt and slid it onto her body. She clipped the belt together and then gently, yet firmly tightened it up by drawing the laces together to bring her waist down to barely twenty-one inches, an inch less than her mother's tiny waist. Then she picked up the seamed, glossy, fully-fashioned Aristoc stockings and placing her neat, size four, feet into them she sensuously, delicately, smoothed them up her long, slim, shapely legs. When both were up, she stood up once more and then attached the welts to the four dangling suspenders of each side, a total of eight. A moment later she had slid her feet into the three inch high, stiletto heeled, black satin strappy sandals that were a favourite of her mother. Already this encasement in sensuous dishabille was having an arousing effect as we saw her nipples, soft and insignificant after her orgasm, harden with desire and her coquette thicken and started to grow once more. She then delicately lifted my bosom companion, the lustrous satin French knickers and stepped delicately into them. I felt my companion's intense delight immediately as she relished the caress of nylon on her own satin fabric, an intense electric static that shocked us both. Then an even greater delight as she enveloped in her cool embrace the rapidly hardening organ, a feeling she experienced for the first time. Was it to be my turn now, I wondered, but no, my lover decided first to slide onto her hands and arms a gorgeous pair of opera length, black satin gloves. Oh, luscious luxury indeed.

Wicked, terribly wicked thoughts surrounded us all now as she picked me up. I gloried in the loving feelings that emanated from us all, melding into an ecstatic aura that excluded all else. This was fetishism taken to its ultimate degree. At last, I was lifted high and then satin-gloved hands slid inside me and I, for the very first time, totally embraced my young lover in a complete caress. I was in heaven. I dropped down over her sweet, beautiful face and, for the first time had a good, close look at her feminine beauty. He had turned herself into an exquisite she. Her make-up was expertly and boldly applied with emphasis on her green eyes and lush lips. Her longish hair, for a male, was styled in a very fetching pageboy cut and her skin, flawlessly smooth, was host to a lovely matt foundation. Long lashes had been expertly thickened and lengthened with mascara and eye shadow, of delicate pink, violet and azure emphasised already large and liquid orbs. Her lips were lush with a deep crimson lipstick and a touch of blusher emphasised her high cheekbones. It was obvious where her main genetic assets came from, yet there was more than just a touch of her sire in her. Her hair was thick, fine and silky, and of a delicate blonde, so unlike her mother's rich, auburn hair. Her skin was creamier and, with the youth, soft and downy, rich, like brushed silk velvet, again, unlike her mother's parchment. She was a delight. My delicate fragrance of dried flowers complimented the delicate scent of Guerlaine's Ode that she had applied.

As my softness dropped further the ecru lace at the hem slipped delicately over the soft mounds of her delicious titties, snagging infinitesimally on the hard nipples. She shuddered, a soft moan escaping her parted lips, then shivered as the rest of my softness slid down her trembling body. I was so happy that she hadn't worn a brassiere as I wanted to softly swathe her tender titties with my own fabric. It took but a moment for the satin-gloved hands to slip her titties into my waiting cups. We almost fitted, my lover and I, almost. She was a half size below, but we fitted and, at last, as her excitement grew, I felt the thrust of her hard coquette, swathed in my cousin's soft satin embrace, pulse against my own fabric. It was heaven, but not yet paradise. That would come when my new mistress made mad and passionate love to me, and me alone.

On suddenly unsteady limbs, we glided across to the large, oval, cheval mirror that adorned the side wall of her mother's boudoir. We gazed at each other in the mirror, in wonder, in admiration, in a miasma of pure, unbridled, satin lingeried, lust. Her emotions, her desire, her total, narcistic adoration of the image was complete. I became aware that she had started to dance, swaying softly to the music that filled the silence of the boudoir. She had turned on the radio and the gentle strains of Mozart, that wonderful slow movement of the 21^st Piano Concerto whispered through the room. I gloried in the sweet susurration as satin whispered over satin and nylon, setting up tiny shocks of static that crackled, sparked their excitement, and raised ours. Her hands, begloved in slinky satin, slid over her flat tummy, caressing me as well as her. Slowly the hands slid up to cup her titties, imprisoned in the soft cups of my entity. The fever heat was rising and then, as her fingers grasped, nipped and twisted her hard and sensitive nipples through me, the sweet pleasure/pain ripped through us both. The excruciatingly intense feelings of desire became even more exciting as her hands slid of her breasts and grasped the hardness that tented out the front panel of my entity. She was at last making love to me. I could hear her thoughts, the sheer delight in my sensuous embrace, my delicate caress of her proud titties, the slip-sliding feel of satin on satin as her hands grasped the sensitive hardness, brought on that final explosion and she came, exploded violently into me, as a man does to a woman at the moment of climax.

I myself, so outwardly immobile, so unaware, was caught up in maelstrom of sheer, transvestite lust. Is it not we, the garments of the opposite gender, who inspire such emotion, and so should not we also have some derivation of that consciousness and a feeling of pleasure. Well, we do and not only that, we can enter the very mind, the very soul of our lovers. His pleasure was mine; his ecstasy I felt as clearly as if it was mine and every thought, every dream, every desire was mine as well. It is only when we are in intimate contact do we have that symbiosis with our wearers, when we are worn by them. When not then all we can feel is their outer aura. My lover's mind was totally open to me now and, in truth, it was totally shocking, completely intense, thoroughly wicked and deliciously perverted. He adored his beautiful mother, to excess and wanted to be her, with one exception, he loved his coquette, to abstraction. What drove him he did not understand but, from the moment he slid us on he called himself a she, with a difference.

My master/lover held, from the moment he had realised what sex was all about, courtesy of a couple of mucky German and American books, the deep wish to do to his mother what he had seen, and read, in those books, but, dressed en-femme. I surely wished I could communicate with her because, as a confidante of his delectable mother, I knew of her deep and dangerously lewd desires. A mother knows her child, as a wise child knows his mother. His mother, Natalie, was aware of her child's fascination with her lingerie and secretly hoped he wore it. She was also very aware of his beauty for his father was similar in his needs and desires, this was the other bit of genetic input he had had in her son. She still mourned his loss in a blitz attack in London. Anthony was, she was sure, of a similar aspect. But, I was drawn back from my musings as the feelings of overpowering orgasm began to wash through me, drawing ever higher as her hands slid, softly yet insistently, over the sleek and shiny satin.

Slowly, ever so slowly, as the feelings grew within her slim and willowy body, she sank down in front of the mirror, still gazing raptly at her sensuous image in the glass. Her hardness, incredibly hard at that, was trembling at the very edge of detonation. One hand slid up her body, leaving the centre of her desire, to fondle her titties once more. She was still swaying to the soft music and her head fell back as a high, keening wail burst from her parted lips. This was the moment we had all been waiting for, my companions and I, the true dénouement of her deepest desires. Her fine, slim body, so sensuous, so slim, so vibrant with unrequited lust, froze, locked and then shuddered with a wild orgasmic ecstasy as the fluids burst from the end of her hardness to blast, with incredible force, through the satin layers of knickers and then me to soak, liberally, the soft satin glove of her clasping right hand as the left hand mauled and pinched the yearning, sensitive nipple of her right breast.

On and on the incredible orgasm rose through us all and the screaming of our lover grew ever shriller until at last, after an eternity of raw emotion and incalculable heights of ecstasy, she started to tail off and the spurts of hot seed lessened to weak dribbles and the spasms to tremors of total satiation. All through that episode we had been aware of his/her pleasure, of her deep love for us, of her incredible desire to make love, en-femme, to her delightfully, enticing and beautiful mother. It was done. She fainted and we with her, to lie in a soft, trembling, insensate heap on the floor, glorying in the soaking fluids of her love for us. It was then that I became aware of another entity and my senses dreamily searched for the source, and found it. Whilst my lover and my companions slept the deep sleep of satiation, I seemed to drift beyond the confines of our entity and float towards the darkness of the half open door. A deep, raw emotion drew me there and then I felt the presence of the one person my lover desired. Her mother was kneeling on the floor and gazing raptly into the room. Her elegant clothing scattered around her leaving her dressed only in an elegant, crimson satin, guipure and stockings of the finest, sheerest silk. Her hands were clasping the very centre of her body between her legs, slick and damp from the love juices that had flowed from her in her own excitement. Her fourth orgasm in as many minutes had done almost the same to her as it had done to my master, but not quite. She was still, though barely, conscious.

She had, it was obvious now, set it all up, so that she could bring his desires to a head, and had succeeded far beyond her dreams. She had heard, at the final moment of her darling child's orgasm his scream. The words still reverberated through her orgasmic mists.

"Mother, oh God, mother, I want you, I want you, I love you!"

Dreamily she got up, gathered her clothes up and went back downstairs. I still sensed her as she dressed, and then slid out of the house to leave us, still comatose, in a heap on the floor; none the wiser, bar me, to what had happened.

Let it be said that the rest of the night passed by in a wild haze of sensual and satin-sheathed lust for both parties. Twice more my young lover spilled her seed into my perfumed folds in an outpouring of delicious ecstasy as he drove herself to impossible heights of passion. At last, exhausted and sated, for the moment, she fell into a deathlike sleep, warm and snug under the mink counterpane, so smooth and luxuriously heavy, sandwiched between the slinky smooth, black, slipper satin sheets that lay beneath the fur. I though, did not sleep. My spirit soared, searching for another friend and lover, my master's mother and found her in a hotel not far away. She had made up this episode so as to bring out her child's feelings into the open and had, she realised, succeeded beyond her wildest dreams. The cries she had heard still echoed through her sleeping mind and her hands, even though she was asleep, were clasping her body, one on the smoothly satined cone of a hard nippled breast and the other on the junction of her thighs, a finger resting on a greatly enlarged, with residual passion, clittie. Her vivid dreams came to me and they were truly awesome. Clouds of satin enveloped her and her child as they writhed on her bed, touching bodies that were writhing together in fetishistic, transvestite, incestuous passion. She had adored her husband with his delicious ways, he had totally satisfied her bisexual desires, but her child was a truly androgynous creature, conceived together by them, and borne, birthed by her. When she had realised his feelings and seen his beauty this night she had been consumed by a totally possessive desire to claim him, or was it her, she mused, back to her body.

My young mistress awoke when the sun was high in the sky. It was past eleven and her mother was due back that early evening. Dreamily she got out of the maternal bed and glided, she was still wearing all her paraphernalia, except for the shoes, to the bathroom. Putting on the shower, she got in, fully clothed as she was; she reasoned that it would be quicker and surer to shower us all clean, sticky and stiff as we were with her copious emissions from the night before. We adored it, cleaning ourselves in close proximity to our deliciously perverted master/mistress, and soon after, as she finished and patted us as dry as he could we dried quickly on her warm body. While we were doing so, she straightened the boudoir so that there was, she reasoned, no trace of her delightful escapade. Too late, we though, secretly overjoyed at the prospect of much more intense and perverted fun to come. I had appraised my friends, and we had become very intimate friends after this episode, of what I had sensed. Ohhhh, they were so excited. She was, just like her mother, extremely neat and fastidious and, lovingly, she took us off when we were dry, excited and aroused though she was, and ironed, folded and put us back in our respective drawers. That was the end of our adventures for a short while.

This little tale is becoming quite complicated and now it is becoming more difficult to differentiate between master and mistress so we shall call them by their true names. The mother, a ragingly slim auburn haired beauty was called Natalie, Tee short, and her delightfully androgynous child, my master, was, as a boy called Anthony but, as a girl, she called herself Antonia, Toni for short. There was not much chance for him to enjoy his little games for a while, as there was a general whirlwind of repairs and re-decoration of the house. Changes were made and one was the fact that now there was a new dressing room that connected both my master's and my mistresses bedrooms. Now both of their clothing was housed here in large wardrobes, all of them full of exquisite garments. Natalie had been on extended shopping trips while the work was being carried out. My master had gone up to his Aunt's house in the north of England for three months, a place he hated and an aunt he initially detested. She stayed in London, at Claridge's, and came home at weekends when the workmen were out, replacing many clothes, but not us. We were favoured and cosseted, being wrapped lovingly in scented tissues to preserve and protect us till we could be used for further adventures. New and sensual gowns and dresses were hung in large closets, all in satin, silk, velvet and taffeta. Corsetry of delicate and elegant designs, guipures, corselet's, brassieres and garter belts, in satin and brocades. Two new slips appeared, from our own maker, one in scintillating, heavy, slipper satin, lustrous and refined, in a gorgeous scarlet, and another in dove grey, along with matching French knickers. We soon made friends and appraised them of our incipient adventures. Ohhhh, they were so excited. Several elegant nightgowns in silk-satin, one black, one ivory and two in grey, along with matching peignoirs joined us in the drawers below. We were ready for our master and mistress to return. Tee was first. She was setting her trap for her beloved child.

The night before her son returned she came back home for good. The beds, both his and hers were layed with new and gorgeous heavy, ivory, silk-satin sheets, smooth and glistening in the dim light of the new wall lamps. Both beds, doubles, were new and on hers was a gorgeous caponierre of heavy, satin backed sable, courtesy of four coats that had been refashioned, her parents had been Russian, emigree aristocracy, and on his, her own mink caponierre. That night Tee bathed and dressed herself in her exquisite lingerie, us. She was highly excited and with a great expectation of the morrow and the return of her darling child. We were so excited as her vibrant love and deep, sensual lust for her child came through to us. She lay down on the sable spread and Ohhhh, how we revelled in the deep and wondrous fur, that most expensive and lusciously luxurious of all, sable. Her hands, gloved in long, black satin gloves, slid caressingly over her full, firm titties, sliding voluptuously over the hard and turgid nipples, covered as they were by my own, slinky fabric. Not for her the quick and easy fix of a short, sharp and sweet orgasm. Tee was a true voluptuary in that she loved a long, gentle and slow arousal, leading to long and extended orgasms of such sweet intensity as to leave her almost unconscious with repletion and, occasionally shaken to the core with ecstasy if the conditions and feelings were right. Tonight we sensed that she was slowly rising to the heights of a passion even she, the arch-sybarite, had never known.

Her thoughts, dreams and feelings were, when she wore us, our thoughts and desires. The delightful image of her beautiful transvestite son was clear to us as to her. She had him dressed absolutely gorgeously in an elegant satin gown and wrap. This gown was one of the new ones she had bought recently, and, with its sizing of a one size down was, we realised, bought for her dear child. It was in pure white slipper satin, strapless and elegant, with a full and flowing skirt, it almost resembled a wedding or court gown, more in fact the former, and we knew that she intended to seduce him while wearing this. The anticipation in her, and us, was awesome and we realised that we were to be included in this as she was going, realising intuitively that we were his favourite lingerie, to wear us during the process of totally corrupting him to her way of thought and deed. Well, I knew that she would not have to work hard at all and, of course, I knew all of my master's feelings and dreams as well as my mistresses. Satin on satin, slowly, insistently, the touches and caresses wrought their sensuous magic as the deep desires and wicked thoughts were fanned into a torrent of such powerful sexual energy as neither she, nor we, had ever experienced. Every time that she would approach the climax she would slow, almost stop, till the threatened explosion simmered down, only to start again and so build up past the threatened peak to a new high.

On and on Tee caressed herself, one hand down at her secret place, finger gently circling her satin covered clitty, the other sliding from one hard nipple to the other, hovering, gliding, brushing across the erectile nubbin so that the two sensations joined together into a white hot emotion that would soon be uncontrollable. She was now, after over an hour of touching and titillation, close, oh so very close to screaming out her wild and long awaited orgasm. It came at last and the feelings that burst upon our combined consciousness was enough to deprive us of all of that as the pleasure, so intense, so piercing and, oh so wild, took us away to a world that was pure ecstasy and light. I was aware of her entire body writhing and spasming frenetically as bolt after bolt sensation exploded in us both. The dark mists of enervating, soft, billowing oblivion slowly, as at last the tremors of her, and our, orgasmic earthquake lessened, descended and we were cloaked in the arms of instant, satiated, sleep.

We awoke an hour later and, still wreathed in the tendrils of that intense pleasure, our mistress took us off and, carrying us across to her wash hand-basin, delicately washed us out in a mixture of her Guerlaine's, Ode scented, soap. Delicately hanging on a hangar we dried off, my friend and I, while our mistress showered in the bathroom. The radiator below us soon dried us out. As I have mentioned, Tee was an extremely fastidious woman and though it was almost one in the morning she took us down and gently ironed us and folded us away in our tissue paper and placed us in a new home. She took us through the dressing room and placed us under her darling son's satin pillows. Ohhhh, how delicious, we thought and awaited his astonishment when he found us with bated breath. She then went back to her boudoir to sleep the rest of the night but her aura stayed with us, full of excitement, anticipation and sheer, unfettered, carnal desire. I, being the closest to her spirit understood, more than most, the gift she was giving to her son. I was linked to so many intense, joyous and happy memories and was Leanne's most precious keepsake, and she was gifting it to her own child. All through the day we slept, my scrunchy friend and I, wrapped in tissue under the ivory satin pillow, snug in our perfumed embrace, awaiting our next pleasures.

It was the sounds of young giggling and laughter that awoke us. Then a gasp of astonishment, followed by a wondering query.

"Oh, mummy, how pretty!" We could of course, 'see' whatever was within our spiritual sphere, as well as sense the emotions of our intimate owners. Toni, dressed in his usual boyish clothes still looked ethereal and pretty, far more than a male should and, through the months away, had seemed to become a quieter and more thoughtful person. The deep emotion that coursed through him was that of a great joy at being re-united with his gorgeous mother. Natalie, dressed exquisitely as usual in a gorgeous silk taffeta, shirringly rustling, day dress, a lovely emerald green shirtwaister that had a full and flowing skirt, matching her magnificent auburn hair, was already feeling the deep urges of sexual arousal. She had missed her child dreadfully and many of her nights had been spent in dreaming of what would be when he came home. She had designed his room for them, not just for him. The bed suddenly shook as Tony sat on it and immediately started to run his hands over the soft and sensual mink. We could all feel the deep and sensual passions that ran through his wondering body and, the absence had only deepened his desires.

"Mummy, mother," He asked, looking up at her as her, admiring her with all his body and mind, along with his eyes, of course. "Is this really my room?"

"Darling, of course," She said, a throaty growl of passion entering her voice, "Do you like it?"

Our master was becoming quite aroused as he continued caressing the fur, his woody was hard and throbbing under his clothing and, as I espied, contained within the silky confines of a sexy little satin panty-girdle he wore under his trousers. Being so linked, emotionally, to him I knew everything of what had happened to him at his grandmothers and what adventures had passed whilst he had been up there. How had he acquired that little piece of frippery and a few other pieces hidden in his luggage was a story to be told later, not now, but a few quite intense moments had been enjoyed by my young and sexy master.

She sat down on the bed beside her trembling son and gathered him into her welcoming arms. It was the first full embrace since before he had left but this one was so different to all the others. There was now a definite current of desire in both of them and it showed in the gentle and sensual way they slid their bodies together. Natalie brought her child's head to her breast and, feeling the cool taffeta against his cheek, Tony could not help but gently rub it against the sensual fabric. Her nipples, sensitive at the best of times, instantly hardened with desire and her child saw them as they became instantly visible as hard nubbins pushing against the sensual fabric that covered them. He rubbed his cheek against the smooth taffeta, over the hot nipple and he felt, rather than heard, a soft moan breathed out by his delicious mother. A wise child knows his mother, as a mother knows her child. He knew, instantly, that something had happened since he had been away, something wonderful, unknown, but definitely something that would change their life together.

His mother's desires exploded through her body at that first caress from her ethereal child. His smooth cheek against her tender nubbin, so soft, so delicately gentle, was driving her to distraction. Her carefully laid plans of slow, intense seduction were blown away at that instant by the touch of her son. Hands, still gloved in matching, elbow length taffeta gloves, cupped his dearly loved face and, as she pulled him away from her tender titties, she leaned down and, with softly parted, glistening carmined lips, she kissed, for the very first time, the also parted lips of her child in a blatantly sensual, kiss. My spirit infused my master and I fully revelled in his astonished, yet joyous emotions that surged through his adolescent body. He swooned as the wild heat of sexual desire overwhelmed his body and his hardness, trapped beneath the slick satin panel of the panty girdle he wore trembled in an instant arousal that he had never experienced before. He fell back onto the bed and his mother, their lips still locked in that first, fully incestuous kiss, followed him so that they lay together in that embrace.

Body to body, breast to breast, cashmere sweatered chest to taffeta breast, arms now wrapped around one another on that soft and luxurious fur. It was blatant, forbidden, taboo even, eroticism. Mother and child, one could not really say son as the sexuality was so mixed, male and female, in him, now became heedless of all thoughts of decorum, of conventions, of laws or of sensibility. Two kindred spirits fused together bin a wild maelstrom of suddenly released passion. Greedy hands stripped of clothes from suddenly charged bodies as they writhed over that bed. Tee's hands stripping cashmere sweater and tight tee shirt from her child, along with barathea slacks to leave him writhing in just his high waisted panty girdle on the mink, pert and delicate titties captured in her wondering hands. Toni, bold as only lust and love could make him, sliding, un-zipping his mother's rustling taffeta dress to leave her resplendent in just her satin slip, matching French knickers, the dove grey ensemble, I noticed, garter belt and long, black, seamed nylon stockings. And, of course, her taffeta gloves. But that hot, by now wet and panting, kiss never broke. Tongue touched, duelled with tongue. Soft whispered breaths mingled and moans of desire were as sibilant whispers in that quietness that was so all encompassing in the locked privacy of their home. One last thing remained for his mother to do, and she did it. With remarkably steady hands she slid down the zip at the side of the panty girdle and with deft movements drew it off his body to leave him naked as the day he was born to her, on that dark and erotic mink caponierre.

It was then, after those long minutes of hot, sucking kisses, that the trembling, highly aroused mother broke her embrace and sat up to look down at the elfin, androgynous body of her only child. I felt her emotions, as well as his and, as an involved, definitely interested and thoroughly aroused spectator I was as hot, in my weird way that you humans would never understand, as they were. They were both on the very edge of a wild and explosive orgasm. Raw passion of such intensity is rare at the best of times, but when it is allied with carnal love and forbidden desires it is truly awesome, and this was the case now.

This was, they both realised, an unplanned episode and all the more exciting for that. Though I was all but forgotten as I lay under the pillow the raw emotions that enveloped me were as bright and hot in me as in them. Tee and Toni knew that in an instant they had gone far too far to pull back now. My master, though stunned by what was happening to him and his mother's hot passion that enveloped him in an aura of wild lust was but an inch from his cum. It was then that his delicious mother remembered her present to him, us. She reached across his supine, trembling body, her own firm titties brushing, oh so gently over his own tiny titties, and slid the tissue wrapped parcel that contained us and, unwrapping the soft, rustling paper, draped my perfumed fabric over his shocked, yet highly aroused body.

"For you, my sweet one," She whispered. "A little present from me to you."

My master instantly understood.

"You know," He husked as my shiny fabric slithered over his hot, aroused body. "Aren't you disgusted?"

"God, certainly not!" She laughed gaily. "I know, love and want to have a sexy little girl to love me."

They embraced once more and lips once more touched, kissed parted lips and the hot, sucking, deeply arousing, satin boosted, forbidden kisses once more started to raise their arousal to even higher levels. At last, just as they came to the very peak of their passion, Tee broke the kiss.

"Come, sweetheart," She said as she sat up, pulling him up with her. "Put this on and let us both enjoy ourselves as two soft lovers."

It took but a second for Toni to hold out his arms and once more I was embracing my master in a delicate satin embrace. Ohhhh, it was heaven to feel his raw heat infuse me, to send me into as great a passion as theirs. Seconds later my companion was joining me, the scrumptious French knickers. How she shuddered as the cool satin enveloped his burgeoning hardness, swathing it in its chilly embrace. Once more my young boy-girl master almost spilled his seed but, as before, just managed to control that final climax. I was now aware that all thoughts of gentle and delicate seduction were long gone. It was now just a raw and full passion that was going to be unleashed. Also, a new awareness was developing in me, my master was not, in spite of his young age, quite as innocent as she seamed. Though still a virgin, he knew what carnal love between a woman and a man was. A picture formed in my being, I do not have a mind, of a dark night, two weeks ago. Bodies, naked, glistening with perspiration, glimpsed through a slightly open door, entwined in a tangle of limbs as a hard and throbbing penis slid its oiled way into the tight sheath of a gorgeous woman. My master was kneeling at the parted door, his erect body clasped in his hot hands, softly panting as she stroked herself to a wild orgasm while watching her aunt being loved by his cousin, her son. Just as I was starting to delve deeper into his mind I was pulled back by what was happening in the here and now. Soft and gentle hands were caressing me and the two satin sheathed bodies came together as they writhed on that fantastic mink spread.

This was a wild mating of such carnal intensity as was rarely beholden to anyone. My master, encased in my soft folds, madly aroused with total desire and lust, lay on her back on that luxurious fur, arms and legs spread out in a compliant way, breasts taut, sensitive nipples caressing the inside of my being, hard and ready body tenting out our black, slinky folds. Above him his mother, ethereal and beautiful, her slim, aroused, utterly sexy body swathed in delightful, dove grey, slipper satin, knelt astride her son's body, cradling his eager erection in her, still begloved hands. The taffeta gloves sliding over my sensuous fabric, shirring taffeta over shiny satin, was of such electrifying feeling as to send me, along with her child, into another world, not quite of climax but of a plateau of pleasure such as we had never felt before. As her hot hands slid over his breasts, as her fingers glided over his hard and tender nipples my master thrust her body up between the parted thighs of her mother and her satin covered hardness slid against her mother's weeping vaginal lips in an insistent demand for entrance to the very womb she had come out of those fourteen years before.

It was time, and we all knew it, time for love, time for consummation of those dark and deep desires, those wild, deep secret desires so many of us hold in our minds and that convention never allows us to express. Is it not true that in nature there are no rules. I and my delicate friends had no say in the matter; we only responded to emotion and had no opinions or sense of "morality". Pleasure, that was our goal, our reward, and we were getting it now, in spades.

Their eyes were locked, gazing at each others beautiful features, both enthralled at their beauty, both in a deep, atavistic desire to love, to carnally possess each other. It was his mother who broke that first eye contact, throwing back her head as her child's hard glans, still imprisoned within her satin knickers, slid over her naked clittie. Her weeping fluids bathed, anointed, the insistent hardness, soaking through the double layer of satin and my master could not stand the waiting any more. His hands, which had been delicately caressing his mother's firm titties, toying with her hard and sensitive nipples, sending sensations of wild desire through her mother, now left her breasts and slid down to draw up, first my hem and then, to slide her throbbing clittie from under the satin of her knickers. Still holding that steel hard flesh in his hands, my master drew the head along the weeping folds of his mother's body in a slow caress. The lips parted and, for the first time Toni felt the raw heat of her mother's body as the glans slid a bare fraction of an inch into the very channel that she had last felt those many years before.

It was the moment; both knew it, the moment to consummate their wildest and most deeply desired dreams. As his mother felt that first touch of naked filial flesh on her tender pussy she moaned, a low, passionate moan of the deepest carnal desire. She shimmied her hips as, at the same instant her delightful boy-girl child thrust up his hips and, as easily as a sword into its scabbard, Toni slid into the tight, clasping, body, so wet, so slick, so welcoming, so, to their minds, right, of her stunningly beautiful mother. The beautiful mother arched her back as the hardness speared her to her very cervix, to the entrance of her womb. My dove grey friend and I gloried in those feelings that washed through us all, those flashes of supreme pleasure and acute ecstasy as the incestuous spear throbbed at the milking caress of the maternal glove that held it in its slick, tight sheath. While my master and I gazed up at her mother's delicious beauty, sheathed in that smooth and sensuous fabric of my new found friend, entranced, full of love, desire, Tee, her hands supporting her body, gazing raptly down at the incredible beauty of her transvestite child, started to slowly move her haunches on the filial body. We felt the squeezing, milking walls clasp the steel hard spear with a fluttering, milking clasp and the sensations washed through us and enveloped us in an ecstasy seldom felt by mortals. It was awesome.

Toni's hands went back to cupping her delightful mother's firm titties, once more scraping her fingernails over the hard nippies, sending her mother once more on the path to ecstatic excitement. Faster and faster they moved, the delight in their bodies so powerful as to deny all conscious thought of right or wrong. To them it was totally right, that wild mating of mother and child. To us too, it was an ecstatic episode as the feelings overwhelmed us with such power and delight. We were privy to both of their emotions, a double treat in fact as Tee felt her female orgasm explode within her whole body, seeming to start in her belly and race out, as a tsunami, to engulf her entire body. Toni's started in her deeply embedded maleness and then became, like her mother's, a totally consuming, unimaginably piercing, flash of pure, distilled pleasure.

Tee's orgasm was at its height, fluttering, vibrating frenetically, making her almost faint with the pleasure when she felt the deeply embedded hardness of her boy-girl child pulsate, spasm, shudder, so tightly was she clasping it within her slick sheath. Their lips met as, unable to support herself on her extended arms, she fell down onto her child's writhing body. Lips to lips, breast to breast they lay, kisses stifling their passionate moans, panting, short screams as they achieved their mutual climax, and we felt it all. Toni, at the height of his pleasure spurted, once, twice, thrice, and again and again and again so that she lost all count of the number of times her seed erupted into her own mother's body. But the sheer pleasure seemed to rise to unimaginable heights and she felt herself fainting with the intense feelings. Toni, by now also at the edge of unconsciousness, felt the rhythmic contractions of the incestuously embedded body of her child and, at that moment, as the first spurt of seed burst from the head to flood her body, broke the kiss and screamed out her ecstatic love for her perverted, deliciously and delightfully so, child.

The spasms slowed, lessened, stopped, but the sensations still washed through the love locked pair of lovers. Incredibly, my master was still hard minutes later, almost painfully so and his mother, still almost unconscious delightfully writhed, languorously so, on the filial sword that still transfixed her body. And we were privy to it all, but it was not, we realised, over yet. My dove grey friend and I gloried in our own slinky pleasures as hot body writhed against hot body, still impaled, locked once more in a sucking, panting, open-mouthed kiss. Toni then took over, his youth and stamina amazing them both and, still locked together, rolled them both over the bed so that she lay on top of her mother. Raising himself on his arms, looking down at the languorous beauty of her mother, the deliciously dressed, in me, of course, child marvelled at the way the day had gone.

  

  

  

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