Mike Harris was seventeen years old when the worst blizzard ever to hit Chelmsford forest struck in December 1986. That is when this story really begins. But first we need to learn a little about Mike Harris before that fateful winter’s day.

Mike’s father had left the family home when he was still a baby. He lived at home with his mother Doris and his older sister Charlotte. He had been an ‘accident’ his mother said. He wasn’t ‘planned’ and his mother made no secret of the fact that she thought his arrival had been the final straw that led to her husband leaving their already shaky marriage.

His mother worked as a secretary for a legal firm and what little spare time she had from work she spent socialising with the staff from the office. His sister pretty much ignored him as he was growing up, concentrating instead on her small circle of girlfriends and of course her many boyfriends who seemed to come and go with monotonous regularity. Sometime during his adolescence he came to realise that Charlotte had a reputation; and that she was what was unflatteringly referred to in those days as ‘the town bike’.

Not that lack of family affection particularly bothered him; he preferred his own company. Nor was his upbringing totally loveless; his mom and his sister readily showered with him with affection on his birthday and at Christmas. They also took annual holidays together at the cottage that they shared with the rest of the Harris family. It wasn’t that his mom and sister didn’t love him; it’s just that they didn’t have much time for him.

Mike grew up a loner, he spent most of his spare time indoors reading and watching television. He liked descriptive novels where the hero rescued the heroine from the clutches of the villain. He liked movies and television shows of the same genre. It wasn’t until puberty that he realised he was identifying more with the heroines in the stories rather than the heroes and he began to wonder why.

It was during his adolescence, around the same time that he realised his sister was a slut, that he admitted to himself that he had a predilection for women’s underwear. But we will come back to this later.

The Harris clan was scattered across the shire, they were mainly working class stock who only got together for special occasions. Family celebrations were very much restricted to births, deaths and marriages, they were the sort of family who seemed to be happy not living in each other’s pockets. They had one asset that they all shared and treasured. A cottage deep in Chelmsford wood.

The small cottage was set on a modest plot of land next to a small lake. A single dirt road wound three miles through the woods to the cottage and the nearest neighbour was a good mile away. There was no electricity line and a hand pump provided water from the lake. One of the more affluent families had installed a small generator but most of the visitors to the cottage preferred to use the combustion stove, which also provided hot water, and the kerosene lamps were more than adequate to light up the small two bedrooms, one bathroom cottage.

The cottage had been in the Harris family for so long that no one really knew when or how the family acquired it. The cottage was shared amongst the five Harris families and an annual schedule was drawn up at the beginning of each year ensuring that the most popular spring and summer months were allocated fairly.

Mike considered it good fortune that his mother hadn’t remarried because then they would no longer be members of the Harris clan and would forfeit their rights to the cottage. That said, because Mike’s father had left them so long ago, they were only begrudgingly given access to the cottage, and their allocated periods seemed to be disproportionably in the autumn and winter.

Mike loved spending time at the cottage. When he was younger he would go to the cottage with his mother and sister and swim in lake, fish, hike and ride his bike along the forest trails. It was the only place he took an interest in the outdoors. As his sister got older she lost interest in the cottage and Mike had to plead to get his mother to take him. By the time he was thirteen his mother and sister had lost all interest in the cottage but his mother allowed him to go there by himself now that he was a teenager. The truth was that even though she couldn’t give a shit about the cottage she didn’t want her side of the family to give up on something she thought they had right to.

And so we return to Mike’s penchant for ladies underwear. Living with two women who ignored his presence to a great extent Mike grew up surrounded by female paraphernalia. His earliest memories are of using a bathroom where stockings, panties and slips were rinsed in the sink and hung up to dry. The stockings eventually gave way to pantyhose and cotton panties and slips became satin, rayon and nylon. They hung from the shower curtain and towel rails like mystical talismans. He knew they were taboo; girl’s things that boys had no right to touch. Mike couldn’t remember when he first lifted one of the fascinating items down from the shower curtain rail and bought the silky garment to his cheek, caressing his body with the sensuous nylon and satin.

The sensation of the sleek fabric on his skin was like nothing he had ever experienced in his short life. What probably also nourished his fetish was the way his mother and sister dressed and behaved around him. When he was twelve his sister was eighteen and she dressed in eighties kitsch. She wore a lot of lycra tights and bodysuits around the house and tight pencil skirts, satin blouses and tight-fitting jackets for work. These short skirts were accessorised with silky pantyhose, high-heels, high hair and heavy colourful eye makeup. His mother also wore tight-fitting business suits, satin blouses, high-heels and heavy makeup. Sometimes Mother and daughter even borrowed each other’s clothes.

What made matters worse was that they had no compunction in getting around the house partially clothed in his presence. His mother regularly turned up for breakfast dressed only in slip, bra, panties and hose. Her makeup would already be applied and she would eat her cereal dressed only in her lingerie, putting on her heels at the table, stepping into her skirt and pulling on her blouse and jacket just before leaving for work. Sometimes she would even ask Mike to tuck the back of her blouse into her skirt and zip it up or to buckle up her shoes if she was wearing sling-backs.

Mike’s fingers would inadvertently come into contact with her silky slips and blouses and her gossamer nylons while he did these tasks; and the garments felt far more luxurious when filled with a warm perfumed body.

His sister was not quiet the exhibitionist that his mother was but she also seemed to ignore his presence and often sat with her legs open or would lie on the couch with her skirt riding high on her thighs. Charlotte had left school at sixteen and had a job as a shop assistant in a ladies clothing store. She didn’t earn much but she loved the job because she was required to dress nicely for work and she got good discounts on her clothes.

Mike figured it was no surprise that he was developing a fetish for lingerie and hosiery being surrounded by it almost constantly. He knew that boys should admire the women wearing these garments but he knew they should not actually be obsessed with the garments themselves.

He didn’t have an incestuous bone in his body and he did not lust after his mother and sister but he lusted after the clothes they wore; the feel, the texture of their lingerie and the smell of their makeup, powder and perfume. In a subconscious way he was jealous. He wanted to wear the pantyhose, the panties and the slips that they wore. Why couldn’t he? Why couldn’t boys wear luxurious silky underwear instead of boring cotton briefs and singlets?

And so it started. One day while his mother and sister were at work Mike found himself in the bathroom staring at the array of panties and nylons left hung up to dry by his sister and mother. He gently fondled the silky soft objects that had become his obsession. Eventually his fascination for the slinky garments became sexual in nature. He began masturbating with them; rubbing them over his erect penis as he slowly bought himself to climax. He found it immensely pleasurable to slide the leg of a pair of pantyhose over his erection and then wrap a pair of satin panties around his turgid member and slowly stroke it until he spent his issue in the diaphanous tunnel.

Mike was terrified that his mother or sister would find out what he was doing. He would carefully wash the semen-soaked garments and hang them back up to dry where he had found them; praying his mother and sister wouldn’t notice that their lingerie had been defiled.

Then one day it was different; he wanted to feel what it would be like to wear the objects of his desire; feel the luxurious garments against his skin. He sat on the toilet seat and slipped his toes into a pair of his sister’s flesh-toned pantyhose and slowly rolled them up his calves; he stood up and smoothed the nylons up his thighs pulling the gusset tight around his buttocks and groin. He had seen his mother and sister don their hose so he knew how to do it properly. The feeling of the cool sheer nylon sliding up his legs and tightly but gently caressing his legs and his scrotum and penis was incredible. It was indescribably erotic and exotic. He was instantly hard.

He slid into a pair of full-cut rayon panties and smoothed them around his buttocks, pulling the waistband high on his slim hips. The panties hissed as they rasped over his pantyhose-clad legs; the rayon was soft and slippery, sliding easily over the nylon hose. He gasped with delight and pleasure. Oh how lucky it must be to be woman and be able to wear such sensuous undergarments every day! He flooded the front of the pantyhose and panties with scalding semen without even touching himself.

It wasn’t long before Mike was wearing his sister’s panties and pantyhose every chance he got. Later he tried on their bras, filling the cups with socks to make fake breasts; then he tried on a slip, first a half-slip, then he tried on a full-slip. It was exquisite! He would dress in pantyhose, panties, bra and slip and parade around the house while his sister and mother were out. He was terrified that they might come home unexpectedly and catch him; exposing him for the deviant he was. Somehow the fear of getting caught added to the immense pleasure he found being dressed that way.

He felt tremendous guilt and many a time he vowed that this would be the last time but eventually he would return to the bathroom or the laundry basket and help himself to the forbidden treasures. He knew he wasn’t gay; he didn’t think about men when he wore lingerie; he just revelled in the feel of the garments against his skin.

One day just before his sixteenth birthday he snuck into his mother’s bedroom dressed in his sister’s pantyhose, panties, bra and slip. He wanted to see what it felt like to wear high-heels with the lingerie. He had a collection of girly magazines; just soft porn really, and almost all of the women in the magazines wore high-heels with their lingerie.

He tried to get his feet into a pair of his mother’s high-heeled pumps but they wouldn’t quiet squeeze in. Then he found a pair of high-heeled sandals and although they were a tight fit he was able to adjust the straps so he could wear them. He got up from his mother’s bed where he had sat down to try them on and unsteadily made his way over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. He was amazed at what he saw.

He stood so that his head was not visible in the reflection in the mirror. He could easily have been looking at the image of a slim young girl. His build was very slight but his legs were well defined. He turned around and was rewarded with the view of a magnificent, tight, well-formed arse. His senses of sight and touch were being stimulated; maybe one more thing? He tottered over to his mother’s vanity and selected Poison, her favourite perfume and liberally sprayed himself. God he felt so sexy!

He walked back to the mirror. Mike regularly masturbated looking at pictures of models dressed in lingerie in his girly magazines and now he stared at his own reflection and furiously masturbated. He pulled his penis over the waistband of his pantyhose and panties and stroked himself until his issue spurted forth spraying everywhere. He was so engrossed in pleasuring himself that he didn’t think of the consequences.

The slip, panties and hose were splattered with ropes of sticky semen. There were even gobbets of spunk on his mother’s shoes and all over the floor of her bedroom.

Then he heard noises from downstairs.

“Mike? Mike? Are you home?” he heard his mother calling.

Mike panicked; he was going to be caught dressed in his sister’s lingerie and his mother’s shoes and to make matters worse he was soaked in semen!

“It’s ok; he’s not home,” he heard his mother say and then heard the ominous sound of high-heels clattering on the stairs.

Mike quickly pulled down his panties and kicked them off; he hurriedly wiped up as much of the semen as could off the floor. The floorboards were still a little damp but you would have to look carefully to see the stain. He walked as quickly and as quietly as could to his mother’s walk-in wardrobe and pulled the door too just as she entered the bedroom. Mike looked through the slats of the shuttered door and found he had a decent view of the bedroom. His mother held the hand of a man Mike recognised as his uncle Steve and she pulled him through the door.

“We have to be quick; Mike’s probably out on his bloody bike again but fuck knows when he’ll come home,” she pulled uncle Steve into the room and closed and locked the door.

“This is just so fucking naughty Doris; fucking my sister-in-law in her own bedroom!”

Mike knew his mother was no angel but fucking uncle Steve! Fucking her sister-in-law’s husband! What on earth was she thinking? Mike knew that uncle Steve and aunty Joyce were the closest relatives they had, but he never dreamt that his mother and uncle were having an adulterous affair. He had to admit to himself that he found it quite exciting.

If he weren’t hiding in the wardrobe dressed in his sister’s underwear, scared shitless of being caught, he would probably be immensely turned on. His mother was wearing a snug black mini-dress, a pink satin blouse, black jacket, black open-toed heels, and what appeared to be a pair of ivory coloured pantyhose. It was a simple outfit that showed off her legs to good effect. She was also wearing her usual heavy makeup and lots of cheap jewellery.

She took off her jacket and threw it on the chair near the vanity. Mike breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t taken the time to hang it in the wardrobe; the same wardrobe he was hiding inside dressed in pantyhose, bra, slip and high-heels, holding a pair of his sister’s come-soaked panties.

“Come on Steve do me quickly!” his mother panted and held out her hand.

He fingers were bejewelled with rings, her fingernails painted a deep crimson; cheap gold bracelets jingled on her wrists. Steve heeded her beckoning and moved in even closer. His mother opened her legs wide apart and kissed him.

“Come on; I know what you like and you know what I like, now let’s do it!” she panted.

Steve pushed up the hem of her short shirt; he exposed the entire front part of her waist right up to the waistband of her sheer white hose.

"No panties Doris? You naughty girl," he marvelled, his hand moved to her pubis.

"I hope you don't go out like this all the time?" he joked.

“Only when I’m meeting you,” his mother smiled back.

Mike felt an erection begin to grow. He couldn’t believe his mother spoke and behaved this way! It was shocking but it was also very exciting. He noticed he was gripping the come-soaked panties very tightly and he unclenched his fist and opened up the panties so he could press the damp satin against his hose-sheathed penis.

His mother fell back on the bed, pulling uncle Steve down on top of her. Mike had a perfect view through the small aperture. His mother lay on her back; her skirt hiked up and her legs wide apart.

“Come on; do me Steve, we don’t have all day!” she demanded.

Steve stroked and rubbed Mike’s mother through the translucent fabric covering her privates; he must have been hitting all the right places creating the most wonderful friction Mike thought as he rubbed his sister’s panties on his cock. Then Steve lowered his head and began to lick his mother, it must have felt exquisite against her clit because the wet spot on the gusset of her pantyhose began to spread.

Doris lay back and closed her eyes, arms thrown up over her head as she let her brother-in-law have his way with her. His hands continued to stroke her thighs and buttocks; he kissed and licked all along the length of her cunt, drinking in the scent of her arousal. Biting with his teeth, he made a small hole in the crotch of her hose and proceeded to make an opening just large enough so he could access her naked clitoris peeking forth from its hood.

Her feet rose up and she clamped her thighs around Steve’s face.

"Please don't stop," she softly begged, glancing down to the top of his head.

"I'm so close, please..."

She didn't have to worry. Steve was like a man possessed, intent on nothing more than the feeling of her hosiery beneath his fingers and the nubbin of her clitoris beneath his tongue. There was no mistaking her body language, or the way her increasingly desperate gasps suddenly gave way to open grunts, announcing her climax. Mike was amazed that it was not only he that had a fetish for nylons but his uncle Steve definitely did too.

Now that his mother had come it was obvious that Steve wanted some action. Mike rubbed his sister’s panties harder against his cock as he watched Steve rise up from his mother’s sopping cunt, he quickly stood up, kicked off his shoes and shucked out of his shirt and pulled down his trousers and underpants. His uncle’s penis was fully erect, the glans was purple and it looked like it was throbbing; almost angry. Mike couldn't help but stare at that impressive erection; his own penis was throbbing and leaking pre-seminal fluid into the tight gossamer hose.

Mike watched his uncle take each of his mother’s legs in his hands; he removed her heels and placed her nylon-clad feet against his broad chest. Closing his eyes, he moved her soles back and forth, revelling in the sensations. He took each foot in turn and kissed and sucked on her toes through the nylon, which his mother obviously found extremely arousing judging by her whimpers and moans. His hands glided along the undersides of her calves and thighs, elevating her legs so that they rested completely against this body.

He hugged her hose-clad limbs close to his chest and Mike watched with fascination as he proceeded to thrust his cock in the space between her thighs. Steve's face was one of unadulterated rapture as he fucked Mike’s mother’s thighs, and Mike stared fascinated at the obscene sight of his uncle’s engorged glans appearing and disappearing from between his mother’s legs.

"Does that really feel good Steve?" she asked.

"You have no idea," he rasped; sweat breaking out on his skin as he moved his hips ever faster, creating the most intense friction on his cock between the pale white nylons.

Uncle Steve nuzzled and kissed her feet, then held her legs firm once more as he redoubled his efforts, the smears of pre-seminal fluid wetting her pantyhose an unmistakable testament to the level of his arousal.

"Are you going to come like that," his mother asked with a quivering tone.

"God, yes,” he replied, thrusting his hips hard into her thighs.

Mike was now furiously rubbing the sodden panties against his highly sensitive penis; the friction of the satin panties against the nylon hose was exquisite and he was close to his own orgasm.

Steve suddenly shuddered and Mike witnessed his uncle ejaculate. He was literally standing on his toes, riding each wave of his orgasm clasping his mother’s legs to his chest, shooting long streams of warm semen onto her skirt and blouse; the final spurts dribbling down the insides of her pantyhose-clad legs. His uncle fell on top his mother and kissed her passionately and she rubbed her sodden hosiery on his body as they kissed and cuddled for a minute or two.

Mike had his second intense orgasm of the day watching his uncle spray his seed over his fully clothed mother; his semen flooded the gusset of his pantyhose, soaking into the slippery satin panties he was frenziedly rubbing on his cock. The smell of his mother’s Poison still lingered on his body and as his orgasm wracked him he found the sensation of hose, bra and slip against his sensitive skin heightened the experience tenfold.

What he realised as his orgasm began to subside was that during the throes of his climax he had not identified with his uncle; he had imagined that it was he lying on the bed, taking his mother’s place. That he was the one dressed in black miniskirt, blouse, heels and makeup being splattered by scalding semen. He shook his head to clear the image from his subconscious. What a silly idea! It was just the sensation of wearing his sister’s lingerie that had bought on that notion surely!

“Ok lover let’s get into the bathroom and clean up this mess, then I need to get changed and get back to work,” his mother giggled and pushed uncle Steve off her.

Mike watched as his uncle, naked except for his socks, chase his fully clothed and semen spattered mother into the ensuite bathroom.

Mike quickly cleaned the closet floor and took off his mother’s high-heels and wiped them clean of his semen. He couldn’t remember exactly how the shoes had been arranged in the jumbled mess on the floor the closet. Was there a method to her madness or were her shoes just thrown on the floor in a heap? He didn’t have time to worry; he dropped them on the floor and quickly padded away down the hall to his own bedroom.

As quietly as he could he stripped himself out of the semen-stained lingerie. He waited for his mother and uncle to dress and leave the house. He looked out the window and saw them drive away in Steve’s little car. He buried the stained underwear at the bottom of the laundry basket and changed into his own clothes. He went back to his mother’s bedroom and noticed that his mother had changed her bed linen. He also noticed a streaky wet stain where he had cleaned up his own semen off the polished wooden floor.

He almost fainted. His mother had obviously noticed the stain and mopped it or wiped it with a damp cloth. He bolted for the built-in closet and flung open the louvered doors. Sure enough, another damp patch belied where his mother had cleaned away the semen stains he had left behind.

“Fuck!” he sighed.

The next few hours were the most terrifying of his life. He was dreading confronting his mother when she came home from work and even considered running away from home.

“Have you been mooching in my bedroom Mike?” his mother asked him later that night.

He fervently denied it of course; but guilt was written all over his face. His mother surprised him by giving him a wry smile.

“Well I better not find out that you’ve been up to shenanigans in my bedroom Michael Harris,” she said sternly, but her face held an amused expression.

Mike blanched and shook his head.

“Never mom; I promise,” he whimpered.

“I think the little perv plays with our knickers while we’re out!” Charlotte chuckled and punched him playfully in the shoulder.

His sister was joking, but she was awfully close to the truth and Mike vowed never to touch their lingerie again. It was bad enough that his mother rightfully suspected he had spied on her and uncle Steve having sex in her bedroom; but if she or his sister found out that he had been dressing in their lingerie he would die!

“Ok Charlotte; I think Mike knows now that he better not ever go into our bedrooms without our permission,” Doris said sternly; her face now very serious.

“He might see things there that he was never meant to,” she finished, eyeing him sternly.

It was the closest he ever came to being caught; and he repeated his vow never to touch his mother’s or his sister’s lingerie again. He did not however vow to never wear lingerie again, just not his sister’s or his mother’s.

Mike waited a few weeks to see if his mother was going to bring up his indiscretion again but she never did. The compulsion to dress in women’s underwear built up until it became undeniable. Mike was far too scared to ever dress up at home again; he was terrified of being caught, but he had to dress up somewhere. Then an idea came to him! But first he would need to buy his own lingerie.

Mike was very frugal; he saved his pocket money and the few bob he made from a paper route. He had a saved a reasonable sum of money and now he decided to put it good use. Mike’s only form of transport was a twelve-speed bike he had been given for his fourteenth birthday. He rode it everywhere, including on his paper route; that was one of the reasons why his legs were so well defined and his body so slim.

He started taking regular bike rides to Luxton, the closest big town to Chelmsford. It was far enough away that he would be unlikely to run into anyone from his school or any other family members. It was fifteen miles from Chelmsford but Mike made the round trip on his bike with his large rucksack on his back without too much exertion. He found a big department store where he thought he could buy lingerie without being too conspicuous. He blushed with embarrassment when he was approached by the matronly shop assistant in the lingerie section. He used the excuse that he was buying something nice for his girlfriend for her birthday and she took pity on him and helped him pick out a nice panty and bra set with a matching slip.

Then he went to a few different stores ready to use the same excuse if needed but in most cases the lingerie section was unattended and he just helped himself to what he wanted and steeled himself for any inquisitive glances he might receive from the checkout staff. Most of the counter staff were bored with their job and took no interest in him or his purchases and just rang up his purchases and gave him his change.

Pantyhose were easy to buy at the supermarket; he just made his selection and put them in with some innocuous items in a shopping basket and no one asked him any questions. He had decided to make a special purchase and he went to a specialist lingerie store and bought an expensive satin and lace garter belt and a selection of fifteen-denier fully-fashioned stockings. He couldn’t wait to try them on and he nearly fell off his bike riding home.

He stashed his lingerie away in a secret compartment he had built in the back of his wardrobe. Then he executed the second and most important part of his plan.

“It’s our weekend at the cottage isn’t it mom?” Mike asked innocently enough.

“Yes Mike but it’s bloody freezing out and me and your sister have a lot on this weekend,” his mother replied, not even looking up from the book she was reading.

She was sitting in her big overstuffed chair with her legs curled under her and Mike couldn’t help staring at the dark reinforced toes of her stockings and then tracing her shapely nylon-clad calves with his eyes until they disappeared under her skirt.

“I’m not going to the shitty cottage,” Charlotte whined.

She was lying on her back on the lounge staring at some inane soap opera on the television. She was wearing a little A-line skirt and her long legs were bent at the knees with her platform shoes flat on the cushions; her skirt had rode up almost to her waist and Mike could just see her red satin panties under the gusset of her flesh-toned pantyhose. God these women made him horny! He wanted to dress just like they did!

“Can I go up on my own then mom? I’ll ride my bike up and back and it’ll get me out of the house for the weekend,” he asked.

“Sure you can son,” Doris replied turning a page and reaching for her obligatory glass of wine.

A quick recollection flew into his head depicting his mother lying on her back fully clothed while uncle Steve fucked her white-stockinged legs and he shook his head to remove it.

“Thanks mom,” he beamed and bounced up the stairs to his room to pack his treasures for the weekend.

And so Mike’s regular excursions to the cottage by himself began. And of course while he was there alone he could do whatever he wanted.

He enjoyed parading around the cottage dressed in lingerie and did it whenever he could. The solitude and privacy of the cottage set deep in the woods meant he could dress in lingerie all day and all night if he wanted too. He found a hiding place in the cottage where he could hide his girly requisites and added to them and replaced items as they became worn out. He also added to his magazine collection and stared endlessly at the seductively clothed models contained in their pages. His compulsion to dress like a woman kept developing until eventually it was not just lingerie that fascinated him. He wanted to wear high-heels and maybe try on a nice mini-skirt and sexy blouse. He loved skirts. He even loved the word ‘skirt’! It evoked images of his mother and sister’s tight little skirts, hems wore high on the thigh, rustling against their nylon-clad legs when they strode around the house on their high-heels.

Mike thought about it for a while; he knew his lingerie sizes from trial and error when trying on his mother and sister’s panties, bras and slips. But what dress size was he? What blouse size? What woman’s shoe size? This was before the days of the Internet and books that converted ladies sizes to men’s sizes were just not available; where would one get such a book anyway?

Besides; he couldn’t walk into a department store and just ask to try on a few skirts and blouses and he certainly couldn’t just take a few items off the racks and take them to a checkout. That would raise a few eyebrows!

Then one day he was riding around Luxton when he rode past a big Oxfam depot and when hit him! Problem solved! He could buy second hand ladies clothing from Oxfam or other charity shops and if it didn’t fit he could simply throw it away; it wouldn’t cost him much and the staff there were less likely to care what he bought; they just wanted his donations.

So Mike summoned up the courage to enter the Oxfam shop and after thirty gruelling heart-stopping minutes he had a nice collection of skirts and blouses. He even found a nice business suit skirt-jacket combination that he thought would fit him. It was almost exactly like the suits his mother wore to work. Sure enough the little old lady at the counter couldn’t give a toss about his purchases; she just added up the total and took his cash.

A few days later he returned, early in the afternoon when the store was quiet, and quickly kicked off his shoes and tried on four pairs of high-heels. Three of the four pairs fitted him and he took them to the counter. This time the little old lady did give him an inquisitive look but she didn’t say anything, she just gave him a knowing smile and handed him his change. Mike blushed, his face turned a deep crimson and he bolted from the store with his purchases.

And so Mike continued to go to the cottage and dress up in lingerie, skirts, blouses, hose and heels but he still looked like a boy in girl’s clothes.

He looked good dressed as girl; that is he had a good body and great legs but it was still the face of teenage boy that was reflected in the mirror. It was time to take the next step!

He rode into Luxton and he bought a makeup case, explaining to the shop assistant that it was a birthday present for his cousin who was now old enough to wear makeup. The shop assistant was very helpful and helped Mike selecting some nice shades of lipstick that his ‘cousin’ might like. She also advised him that girls love perfume and Mike purchased a bottle of his beloved Poison perfume ‘because he liked his cousin so much’. The shop assistant was happy because she thought she had fleeced the young naïve teenager of his cash and Mike was happy because he had acquired all of his makeup and perfume requisites at one shop with no fuss or embarrassment at all.

He bought some cheap jewellery and clip-on earrings at a department store and then returned to the Oxfam shop where he found two good quality wigs. One was a shoulder-length dark brunette bob and the other a honey-blond, which came just below his shoulders.

He took these purchases home and couldn’t wait to get them to the cottage so he could undergo his first transformation from Mike Harris to Michele Nylons; the enfemme name he decided to call himself. A few months after his seventeenth birthday and one week before Christmas his mother dropped the bombshell that she was going to Majorca for the Christmas holidays with a friend from work.

“You two are old enough to look after yourselves now,” she said dismissively when she gave her son and daughter the news.

Charlotte was the first to chime in.

“Can I have Ben over for Christmas then?” Ben being her latest beau.

“You mean can you bend over for Ben at Christmas!” Mike sniggered and both of the women gave him a steely look.

“It’s ok mom and Sis; I’ll go to the cottage,” he added quickly.

“Don’t know why you want to go to cottage in the middle of winter for, but sure ok,” his mother answered.

“So he can stroke his little peeny-weeny all day long,” Charlotte teased.

“Jesus! I’ll be glad when I’m on that plane,” his mother sighed.

And that is how Mike happened to be in the cottage when the worst blizzard ever to hit Chelmsford struck in December 1986.

Mike arrived at the cottage just before it started to snow and he was so excited that he didn’t even notice when it began. He opened his rucksack and laid out his recent purchases and started preparing himself to learn how to become a transvestite. He knew what a transvestite was; a man who dressed in women’s clothes and looked very much like a woman when transformed. He was going to become Michele Nylons for the first time and he was very excited about it.

He got the generator going and lit a blazing fire in the open fireplace; it warmed the cottage and soon the hot water system was piping hot. He had very little body hair but he painstakingly shaved his chest, stomach and legs and then the fine hairs on his hands and arms. He shaved his face and felt his skin; it was smooth and supple.

Then he opened a pot of hair removal cream and after reading the instructions he applied a thick coat of the smelly cream over the hairs in his crotch and buttocks making sure that he got into all of the crevasses. He watched with amusement as small clumps of his body hair disappeared down the drain when his rinsed it off in the shower. He was amazed at how smooth and sensual his shaved body felt and he decided to keep his body permanently hairless from now on. It’s not like anyone would notice.

Now came the difficult part; learning how to apply makeup. Mike sat down at the dresser in the small bedroom and arranged the contents of the cosmetics case in front of him. He was fascinated with the cosmetics. Long tubes of mascara, eyeliner and lipstick, bottles and pots of foundation and nailpolish, palettes of bright coloured eyeshadow, blush, rouge and finishing powder.

He opened up a magazine featuring pictures of overly-made-up models and selected one of his favourites and decided to try and duplicate her makeup; his first ever attempt at applying cosmetics. The foundation, finishing powder, blush and lipstick were not too hard to get right with a little practice but it took several attempts to get the eye makeup anywhere near as good as the girl in the picture. After two frustrating hours he was reasonably astute at getting his eyeliner and eyeshadow right. Applying the mascara was not quite so difficult, but the first few times he slipped and smeared some on his eyelids. Also it tended to clot on his eyelashes; but he eventually got the hang of applying a nice thick even coat to his upper and lower eyelashes.

When he had the hang of putting on the makeup he washed his face completely clean with warm soapy water and applied some moisturiser so he had a clean palette for his very first full transformation from Mike to Michele.

What Mike didn’t know was why his mother was going to Majorca. It was because of a developing family scandal. Aunty Joyce had found out about his mother’s illicit affair with uncle Steve. Doris was running off to Majorca to avoid the disgrace and uncle Steve had packed a bag and moved out of his home at the insistence of his wife. He had nowhere to go so he decided to spend a few nights at the Harris cottage until Joyce either got over her anger and took him back or he found somewhere permanent to live. He was driving down the highway towards Chelmsford forest when it started to snow heavily.

“Hope I get to the cottage before this fucking snow cuts off the access road,” he said to himself.

Mike had been experimenting with how to make more realistic breastforms rather than just stuffing socks into his bra cups. He now had a tried and true method that did the job. He opened a packet of pantyhose and cut the legs from the gusset. He filled the feet of the pantyhose legs with rice until he had the desired size and then doubled the legs over and tied them off with a couple of overhand knots. The knots made nice imitation nipples when the breastforms were placed inside his bra cups.

Mike sat down at the dresser and applied foundation and finishing powder. He worked on his eyeliner next, concentrating on getting it just right from the inner corner to the outer corners of both top and bottom eyelids, gradually thickening the line. Next he went to work on the eyeshadow using a combination of light blue, purple and pink; blending it as close as possible to resemble the eyes of the model in his fashion magazine. He rouged his cheeks with blusher and applied another coat of finishing powder. He painstakingly mascaraed his eyelashes and reached for the plum red lipstick and carefully applied three coats, biting down on a tissue to set the lipstick just like he had seen his mother and sister do.

He painted his toenails and fingernails with matching plum red nailpolish. Coating the fingernails of his left hand was relatively easy, but Mike found it awkward using his left hand to paint the nails on the fingers of right hand. When he was happy with his makeup he reached for a wig. The shoulder-length brunette bob sat perfectly on his head, the fringe level with his eyebrows. He brushed it out until it was sleek and glossy.

He was amazed at the transformation; he looked very attractive. He looked as good as some of the models in his magazines. Mike took his homemade breastforms and fitted them inside the cups of a red satin and lace brassiere then he opened a packet of flesh-toned Pretty Polly sheer to the waist pantyhose. He carefully fitted the toes of the pantyhose around his feet and admired the lustre of his nailpolished toenails through the reinforced pantyhose toes.

The next task was a little uncomfortable but essential if he wanted a woman’s silhouette. He tucked his penis and scrotum under his crotch and taped them in place. He had found the tape in a shop that specialised in actor’s accoutrements and stage makeup. The stage makeup was not suitable for his purposes but when he saw the gaff tape, which actors used to affix prosthetics, he had an idea how he could use it and bought a couple of rolls.

He smoothed the small wrinkles out of the pantyhose as he drew them up his legs. The luxurious feel of the silken hosiery on his shaved legs was very sensuous. He stepped into a pair of red bikini-cut satin panties. The panties hissed as they slid up his nylon-sheathed thighs and as he adjusted them to fit snugly around his buttocks, he once again marvelled at the opulent feel of the satin and nylon against his body. He selected a white rayon half-slip, the cool sleek material fluttered like the wings of a butterfly against his legs when he stepped into and eased the garment up his legs and adjusted it so the hem sat high on his thighs.

It was about this time that Mike began to think of himself as Michele. He was no longer Mike, the skinny teenage boy with a feminine figure; she was Michele Nylons, transvestite vixen!

Michele stepped into a navy blue A-line skirt and then buttoned herself into a mauve satin blouse. She tucked the blouse into the waistband of her skirt and closed the zipper. She adjusted the waistband of her skirt around her midriff, and smoothed the skirt down her legs so the hem just covered the lace edging on her slip. The skirt was tight around her buttocks and thighs and the hem sat high up her long legs. Perfect!

Someone had bought an old full-length dressing mirror to the cottage and it had stood in the corner of the bedroom, disused and fly specked. Mike had cleaned it up during his many visits and regularly made use of it; putting it back in the corner and covering it with an old sheet before he left. He pulled the mirror into the centre of the room where the light was best.

Michele looked at herself in the mirror and saw exactly what he was hoping to see: a young, attractive, slightly slutty-looking, young woman. She stepped into a pair of black high-heeled sandals then sat back down at the dresser and accessorised herself with the jewellery. She sprayed herself liberally with Poison, her favourite perfume, and then stood in front of the mirror once again.

She pirouetted, curtsied, lifted her skirt, lowered her skirt, blew kisses and posed seductively and then lewdly in front of the mirror for the good part of an hour as the snow continued to fall heavily outside. She was amazed at how seductive and sexy she looked. She never heard the car pull up outside of the cottage.

When Steve drove up to the cottage he was quite surprised to find smoke coming from the chimney and hear the hum of the generator. The lights were on and there were obvious signs of occupation.

He looked through the various windows of the single story structure trying to see who was staying at the cottage. He eventually he saw movement in one of bedroom windows. Steve couldn’t believe his eyes. A young coquette was posing in front of a full-length vanity mirror; vamping it up and putting on a show. She was dressed in skirt, blouse, hose and heels and wearing heavy makeup. She wore her hair in a brunette bob and was very attractive. She was sexy as hell and he stroked his hard cock through his jeans as he watched her prance and pose in front of the mirror. He particularly liked her long, well-toned, nylon-clad legs.

Steve had been looking at the girl though the window for about thirty minutes mesmerised by her performance when he realised that if he stayed outside much longer he would probably get frostbite. He went back to his car and rummaged around in his duffle bag until he found his Polaroid camera. He made his way back to the window where the snow was now beginning to drift quite significantly and took several pictures of the young woman as she posed in front of the mirror.

Maybe his excommunication from the family home might not be such a bad thing? He was alone in the woods with a sexy teenage girl who had legs that went on forever. He looked at the Polaroids he had taken; they were pretty good; he had a couple of the woman front-on reflected in the mirror and a few of her brazenly lifting her skirt. He didn’t recognise her; but there was something familiar about her that he couldn’t quite fathom. He stuffed the pictures in his pocket. It was time he went inside and introduced himself.

The snow began to fall harder; the snowstorm was developing into a blizzard.

To be continued………………….

“Allo! Allo! Allo! What’s a nice girl like you doing in place like this?” uncle Steve said in his best cockney accent to the young girl.

Steve had silently unlocked the front door of the cottage and carefully removed his shoes before padding over to the bedroom door where Michele was still preoccupied looking at herself in the mirror. She was currently holding up her skirt admiring how good her red satin bikini panties looked over the gusset of her sheer to the waist pantyhose. Her tummy was flat and her pubis and legs fully shaved. Her semi-tumescent penis was safely tucked between her legs and her panties fitted snugly creating a nice red V framed by her thighs.

“Jesus!” Michele yelped and spun on her heels.

She stood in front of her uncle, still holding her skirt above her waist; her mouth wide open but speechless with shock.

“Nice view,” Steve smiled at the pretty young thing standing in front of him.

Michele dropped her skirt and smoothed it out nervously as she realised who it was that was standing before her. The question was did Steve recognise his nephew?

“So who the bloody hell are you?” Steve asked, answering Michele’s question.

Michele’s mind was in turmoil; it was obvious that uncle Steve had not recognised who she was and was also of the opinion that she was a woman. She tried a bluff.

“I’m Michele,” she replied.

Mike’s voice had broken but it was not particularly deep; it sounded like a low-pitched woman’s voice, mature and smoky.

“Well Michele, what the fuck are you doing here?” Steve asked, he glanced at the lingerie and women’s clothing scattered on the bed and the makeup arranged on the vanity table.

Michele had to think on her feet and come up with something plausible very quickly. Her story didn’t have to be too complicated, just credible. She used the first excuse that crossed her mind.

“I’m here to meet Mike Harris,” she replied.

Steve beamed. Well, well, well! His scrawny nephew had found himself a girlfriend. And quite a sexy one too! But there were still some questions left unanswered.

“And you decided to wait for him in a cottage in the middle of the woods dressed like that?”

“And practice doing what while you waited? Advanced skirt lifting?” he sniggered.

Michele was rattling her brain trying to figure out how she could get away from her uncle. Maybe he would leave of his own accord? Maybe she would be able to change back into Mike and get away on her bike? Jesus! This was such a terrible predicament. She struggled for a plausible answer to his question. Then she remembered watching him having sex with her mother while she hid in the closet. She knew what turned uncle Steve on.

“Well for your information Mike asked me to dress like this. He likes me dressed this way and I was just straightening out my underwear if you must know!” Michele decided to go the offensive.

Steve looked the young vixen up and down and breathed in her perfume.

“I bet he does. But I was watching you for a little while and you were putting on quite a performance there little lady,” he replied.

“Anyway, who are you and what are you doing here?” Michele countered.

“I’m Steve Harris; Mike’s uncle,” he answered.

“And I’m going to be staying here for a few days so it looks like you and Mike are going to have some company,” he decided to back off for now and see how things developed.

“I’ll take the other bedroom; I presume you and Mike are sharing this one,” he leered at her.

“I’ll get my things and unpack and then we can wait for Mike,” he beamed and spun on his heels.

Michele’s mind was racing. She had to get out of here or get rid of her uncle. She heard him open the front door and a blast of cold air swept through the cottage then she heard him mooching around in the adjacent bedroom. He must be unpacking his things she thought.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” she whispered to herself.

Michele eventually calmed down enough to deal with the immediate situation. She packed away the lingerie that she had scattered on the bed and hung up her clothes in the wardrobe next to Mike’s jeans, shirt and jacket. She checked her makeup in the mirror and fixed her lipstick and put on a little more finishing powder; it was imperative that Steve not figure out that she was really Mike.

She decided to bluff it out. If she could see out the rest of the day she could make her excuses and retire for the evening. Once she was safely in her bedroom she could transform back into Mike and then he could emerge from the bedroom the next morning claiming he had arrived late, spent the night, and sent Michele home early. It was not the best of plans but it was the only one she could think of for now.

Michele was still not aware of how severe the snowstorm was that was that developing outside of the warm safe cottage.

Steve bought in two small suitcases and his rucksack and packed away his clothes in the second bedroom of the cottage. He went back to his car and bought in a cardboard box containing half a dozen bottles of wine, the same amount of scotch and a case of beer. The snow was building up around the hubcaps of his little car. He opened the boot and pulled out a tarpaulin and covered his car, tying it to the front and back bumpers. He looked at the darkening sky with consternation; this was going to be a pisser of a snowstorm.

After unpacking, Steve settled down in the main room of the cottage, which was a combined kitchen, dining and lounge room laid out in an open plan. The furniture had been provided by various members of the Harris clan and was a mixture of country cottage, seventies kitsch, and discarded brick a brack. He stoked the open fire and checked to see that the combustion stove was still burning. He could hear the hum of the generator and the electric lights were still working.

He eased himself into one of the overstuffed lounge chairs and sipped a beer while he scrutinised the Polaroids he had taken of Michele and contemplated his next move. The girl was quite attractive and some of her poses in front of the full-length mirror were close to pornographic. She had great legs and he loved the way she was dressed especially the short skirt, pantyhose and high-heels.

“You lucky little fuck Mike,” he whispered as he flicked through the photos.

He cast his mind back to the time he had had sex with his nephew’s mother in her bedroom. He hadn’t fucked her but he’d performed cunnilingus on her through her pantyhose crotch and had fucked her nylon-clad thighs. He loved women who wore nylons; he had real fetish for them. He thought of how he had surprised Michele and she had stood there gob-smacked holding up her skirt so could see her knickers. He began to grow an erection. He looked out the window and watched the snow. If Mike didn’t get here soon he wouldn’t be able to get through the snowfall. Then he and Michele would be left alone in the cottage. He smiled to himself and rubbed his erection through his pants as he examined his Polaroids.

Michele reluctantly left her bedroom and made her way into the lounge. Steve heard her high-heels click-clacking on the floor and snatched his hand away from the bulge in his pants. Michele saw Steve sitting in big armchair drinking a beer looking at some small documents or pictures.

“So how long are you staying here?” Michele asked.

She sat down on the couch as demurely as she could in her short skirt. Michele had considered changing into something a little less revealing but the truth was this was probably the most modest outfit she had. She tried to pull the hem of her skirt further down but it still rested halfway up her thighs. She crossed her legs and smoothed out her skirt again. Steve’s eyes were glued to her legs; he didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was ogling her.

“Don’t know honey; for a few days at least. Until my wife gets over her temper and lets me back home,” he replied.

“She kicked you out then?” Michele asked.

She joined the dots; her mother running away to Majorca and uncle Steve getting booted out could mean only one thing. Aunty Joyce had found out about them.

“Why?” she asked.

Steve took a long pull on his beer and checked out the young hottie; nice legs, he liked her A-line skirt, little titties pushing out the front of her mauve satin blouse. Her hair was nice; straight and glossy. He liked her makeup and the nice touches; red painted fingernails; her red toenails visible through the reinforced toes of her nylons; the cheap jewellery and black high-heeled sandals. And she smelt delicious.

“Let’s just say I had a hankering for something I shouldn’t have,” Steve smirked.

“So when’s our boy Mike turning up; he better get wriggle on; its snowing like a bastard out there,” he went on.

“Soon I think,” Michele bluffed, “maybe later tonight.”

“Then we will have to keep ourselves amused for a bit then. Want a drink?” he waved his beer in the direction of the kitchen.

Mike had stolen a few sly drinks before; in fact he’d gotten drunk a couple of times like most boys his age. What the fuck? He might as well have a drink; it might calm his nerves.

“Yes please,” Michele smiled demurely.

“A glass of wine for the lady?” Steve smiled back and Michele nodded.

Steve went to the kitchen area and sorted out the drinks. While he was gone Michele looked over at the side table to see what Steve had been looking at when she came out of the bedroom. She leaned over and snatched up the Polaroids and looked at them. She was speechless. The photos depicted her in various poses in front of the full-length mirror. In quite a few of them she was holding up her skirt and posing provocatively. She didn’t hear Steve return until he dropped down onto the couch beside her.

“That one’s my favourite,” Steve nodded at the picture that was currently at the top of the pile.

In the picture she was holding the hem of her navy-blue A-line skirt above her waist with one hand, exposing her red satin panties and her long legs clad in flesh-toned Pretty Polly sheer to the waist pantyhose. Her legs were spread wide and her other hand rested on her thigh, a red nail-polished finger pointing at her crotch. Her face was miming a kiss.

“Yes I do like that pose Michele,” he offered her a glass of wine and when she took it, her hand was shaking.

Steve’s fingers came to rest gently her thigh.

Michele shuddered and dropped the Polaroids on the cushion. Not only didn’t Steve realise that Michele was a boy not a girl; he didn’t know she was in fact his nephew.

Michele placed her hand over her uncle’s and gently prised it from her thigh. She took a gulp of her wine.

“I don’t think you should do that Steve; Mike wouldn’t like it,” she gently berated him.

Steve picked up the little pile of Polaroids and held out one of her holding up her skirt.

“But Mike likes this I bet?”

“You two must get pretty naughty up here hidden away from the world. I find it interesting that you would be dressed the way you are to meet your boyfriend; I figured a young girl like you would simply lie naked on the bed,” Steve leered at Michele, his eyes travelled the length of her body and then locked on hers.

“What we do and how I dress has nothing to do with you!” Michele said petulantly.

“Well you say that; but what if I showed these pictures to Mike’s mother? What do you think she might have to say about Mike dating a floozie?” Steve chuckled and his hand snuck across the gap between them and this time he gently squeezed her thigh.

Jesus! Michele was really worried now. What if his mother recognised that it was her son dressed in drag in the pictures? Even if she didn’t recognise him, how would Mike explain his none-existent girlfriend to his mother? And oh my god; Charlotte would taunt him for months!

‘Fuck! What am I to do?’ she thought.

“Of course if you’re nice to me; I’ll never show these pics to Doris, Charlotte or even Mike. They can be our little secret,” he grinned and squeezed her thigh again.

Then he relaxed his grip and began to softly stroke her leg; his fingers rasping on her sheer nylons in the quiet cottage. Michele was terrified but she had to admit to herself that it did feel kind of nice having someone stroke her thigh. She shook her head to rid herself of the thought.

“You saying no?” Steve had misinterpreted Michele’s gesture.

“No! I’m saying what does being nice to you entail?” Michele answered.

“Well you can strike the same pose for me as you did in this picture,” Mike smiled and dropped the picture of her holding up her skirt on the coffee table.

Michele had no choice really. She was alone with her uncle in this cottage far from anywhere and he was blackmailing her with the pictures he had taken of her posing provocatively. The only ace she held was that Steve still thought Mike was on his way here.

“If you promise to behave and keep your hands to yourself I’ll pose for you,” Michele sighed reluctantly.

Steve was staring brazenly at where her skirt had slightly ridden higher up her thighs. She had great legs and he really wanted to play with them but he decided to acquiesce to her proposal for now.

Steve lifted his gaze from her legs to her face and smiled.

“Go on then,” he whispered his voice thick with lust.

Michele swallowed the last of her wine, put down her glass, and got to her feet. She knew what Steve wanted to see; she had seen him fondle and hump her mother’s legs. She figured that if she gave him a good show he might get horny and go to his room to relieve himself. Then she might have some time to work on her escape plan.

She had to admit to being somewhat flattered that she was attractive enough to excite a man; she had never really considered that she may be sexually attractive to men. She only dressed like this for her own pleasure.

“Go on,” Steve insisted.

Michele took the hem of her skirt in both of her hands and slowly raised it up her thighs. Steve's eyes followed the hem and he gasped as Michele’s firm thighs encased in the sheer flesh-toned pantyhose slowly came into view.

Steve growled as the first glimpse of her red satin panties become exposed and he reached out and ran his hands up and down Michele’s thighs; his fingertips slithering over her diaphanous nylons.

“You said you wouldn’t touch!” Michele protested.

“Oh, that’s just too fucking lovely not to touch love,” Steve cooed, stroking her legs from her calves to her knees.

“Show us yer knickers then?” he begged.

Michele decided that the Steve had seen enough; she didn’t want this farce to go any further.

“I think you’ve seen enough,” she said and began to pull down her skirt.

Steve reached out and gripped her hands firmly and pulled them away; he was not being violent but he was insistent. He let go of her wrist and lifted her skirt further up her thighs until the red nylon V of her panties just peeked from below the hem of her skirt. He then let go of her skirt and smiled.

“I think I’ll decide when I’ve seen enough. If you want me to behave and keep my hands to myself just leave your skirt where it is!”

Michele baulked at what the Steve had just done to her. He was pleasant enough but it was obvious that he was now in control of the situation. What she decided to do was to let him have his way to a certain extent but she must not let him discover that she was really Mike. She exhaled and stood still, leaving her skirt hiked up and her panties exposed. Steve smiled at her again.

“Can I touch your legs? I promise I won’t go any higher than your thighs,” he pleaded.

Michele cringed; she was scared that any control over the situation that she might have had was slipping away.

“Just my legs; and just for a couple of minutes; Mike will be arriving any minute!” she bluffed.

Steve reached out and gently rested his hands on her legs. He slowly circled his fingers on her knees delighting in the feel of her silky pantyhose. Michele didn’t find Steve’s touch particularly unpleasant but she was worried about where this might be leading. She allowed him so stroke her legs and she could hear his breathing quicken.

Steve’s hands caressed her calves and then he slid his hands up her thighs and squeezed the top of her legs. In the silence of the cottage she could hear the swish of his fingers dragging across her nylons and his breathing became harder and louder until he was almost panting. She stood still and let him paw at her legs hoping he would get so aroused that he would need to retire to his room and masturbate.

Steve took his hands from Michele’s legs and stood up. He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her towards him, breathing in her sweet perfume and gazing into her heavily mascared eyes.

“What are you doing?” Michele whined.

“Just give us a kiss and a cuddle love; Mike needn’t know,” Steve begged.

Michele was revolted; the thought of kissing a man had never entered her mind. And kissing her uncle? The idea was preposterous! But of course Steve didn’t know who she was; he thought she was a woman! She considered her options. She could let him kiss her and hope he went no further. She could tell him she was really Mike, his nephew, and try and deal with the consequences. She could refuse him; but the reality was she was alone in the cottage, miles from help and uncle Steve was a lot bigger and stronger than she was.

She decided to try to negotiate.

“You just keep demanding more and more things from me Steve; I’m sure your nephew would not approve of your advances towards his girlfriend!” Michele piqued; her hands on her hips.

“You keep on about the boy as if he’s some kind of white knight who’s going to arrive any second and save you! Have you even looked out the windows since you arrived?” Steve snapped.

Michele glanced out the window and saw the falling snow; it was an impenetrable white sheet; it had drifted up to the window ledge. She finally realised she was trapped!

“I tell you what; I’ll kiss you; but that’s all I’m going to do! Mike will be here soon!” Michele feinted.

“Ok love! You’ve got a deal. Just a kiss and a cuddle is all I want I promise,” Steve replied and leaned into her and placed his lips on hers.

Michele could smell Steve’s aftershave and felt his stubble lightly graze her face as his lips crushed hers. It was a strange sensation being kissed by a man, especially her uncle. She had to admit that she liked the idea that a man found her attractive but she felt no real desire and she didn’t respond to the kiss. She allowed Steve to kiss her but when he pushed his tongue into her mouth her reflex action was to try to spit it out and break free of the kiss. Steve pulled her down on couch and pushed her back into the seat and forced himself on her.

Michele struggled to get free but Steve held her down and straddled her; his thighs either side of hers, his weight pressing down on her, holding her down as her hands beat against his chest as she struggled to break free.

“Get off me! Get off me you pig!” Michele whimpered

Michele could hardly breathe. Steve was heavy; his body was on top of hers pushing her back into the couch as he slobbered at her mouth and pawed at her thighs. She tried to scream but his mouth covered hers and all she could produce was a muffled gargle. She was panicking now, beating on Steve’s back with her fists and drumming her heels on the floor. Then her panic changed to terror as she felt him fumble at his flies. She wriggled and writhed but she couldn’t get out from underneath her uncle.

“Don’t Steve; please don’t! You don’t know who I am and what you’re doing!” she cried, tears ran down her face.

“You’re fucking right kid! I don’t know who you are but I do know what I’m doing!” he panted.

Michele screamed as she felt Steve’s penis flop from his open flies and press against her thigh; it felt hot and hard through her pantyhose and she felt a dribble of pre-seminal fluid soak into the nylon.

“Oh god please don’t!” she begged.

Michele struggled and wriggled but Steve followed her movements and kept his lips locked on hers; his tongue invaded her mouth. His cock began to throb as it slithered along Michele’s nylon-encased thighs. He was extremely excited by the feel young woman’s legs; her satin blouse pressed against him, the smell of her perfume and the taste of her lipstick was tremendously arousing. The more she struggled; the more his penis pressed into the V of her soft warm nyloned thighs and slid and slithered against her sheer hose.

Steve began to vigorously hump Michele’s thighs and the more she fought back the better it was for him. He could feel his orgasm approaching as he violently kissed the girl and humped at her silky-smooth legs. Michele was horrified at what was happening to her; she realised that she had allowed the Steve to go too far and now the situation was totally out of control. She was terrified that he might put a hand under her skirt or inside her blouse and find out the truth; that she was in fact a man not a woman.

She decided to let the Steve kiss her and take his pleasure against her legs rather than risk the situation getting any further out of hand or being discovered. Michele stopped struggling and lay down on the couch with Steve straddling her and she relaxed and parted her lips allowed him to kiss her. She could feel his cock throbbing between her thighs and she clamped them shut around his penis so he could dry hump her pantyhosed legs.

Steve sensed her compliance and fucked and humped at her legs; his penis locked in the silken embrace of her soft creamy thighs which remained clamped around his rigid member. He drove his tongue deep in her mouth as he orgasmed. Michele felt repulsed as she felt the hot slippery semen flooding between her thighs and soaking into her pantyhose. Steve humped frantically at Michele’s prone body; his ejaculate splattered her thighs and ran down her legs.

As the Steve’s orgasm subsided his kisses and humping became less frantic. Michele lay immobile underneath him as he emptied the last of his seed on her. When he had finished he lifted himself up off her and returned to the overstuffed lounge chair. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his member clean and stuffed his slowly deflating penis inside his pants and zipped them up.

“There! That wasn’t so bad was it? It’s not like we fucked or anything! Just a bit of slap and tickle,” Steve said apologetically, suddenly realising his impropriety and the ordeal he had afflicted on the young woman.

Michele just lay back on the couch totally bewildered by what had just happened; she was speechless and felt totally violated and disgusted. A single tear ran down her cheek leaving a trail of black mascara.

“No harm done love. Just give yourself a wipe down and fix your makeup and Mike need never know we had a bit of fun before he got here,” Steve was starting to feel a little guilt and remorse.

He reached for his beer and drank the remaining suds and then got up and went to the kitchen to get another drink. The reason he went to the kitchen had more to do with the fact that he felt guilty and didn’t want to be near the girl he had violated rather the needed for a drink. Michele sat up on the couch; her thighs were sticky with cooling semen and she didn’t want to get any on her skirt so she held it up away from her legs.

Steve watched her walk to the bedroom and he felt sorry for her, but he also felt his lust returning as he watched the young girl walk slowly back to the bedroom holding up her skirt; her red satin panty-clad arse on display for him to see.

Michele closed the door to her bedroom, she was quietly sobbing but she knew she had to regain her composure or things would only get worse. She wiped away Steve’s issue with a towel and pulled down her panties and hose. She wiped her legs with a damp cloth and dried herself. She sat on the bed kicked off her heels and opened another packet of pantyhose; this time smoky-grey. She couldn’t transform back into Mike yet so she had to maintain her ruse.

Sliding into the new pantyhose was still a thrill despite the fact that she had just been molested; they still felt wonderful on her shaved legs. She rescued the red satin panties she had been wearing, fortunately they had remained semen-free and she slid them back on and pulled them tight. She slipped back into her high-heels and sat on the bed bewildered as to what to do next.

She looked at her semen-stained pantyhose on the floor; they seemed to reflect her own sense of guilt and shame, all wrinkled and discarded. After a few minutes of just staring at the garment she reached down and picked them up. They were still warm and smelt of her perfume. She lifted them to her nostrils. The pungent musky smell of semen assaulted her sense of smell. Then she did something totally by reflex and instinct; she bought them to her mouth and she tentatively touched the wet nylon with the tip of her tongue.

Her uncle’s semen tasted salty and musty; not unpleasant, just different. Her little cock thickened and became mildly uncomfortable in its gaff. She awoke from her daydream and realised what she had just done and threw the tainted garment into the corner of the room with disgust. She went to the little sink where she had wet the cloth she used to wipe her uncle’s semen off her legs, and brushed her teeth. She spent a few minutes fixing her makeup and gave herself another couple of sprays of perfume.

What to do now? Her position was nearly untenable. She had to maintain her cover; she couldn’t possibly reveal that she was really Mike but neither could she continue with the pretence of waiting for Mike to turn up and rescue her. She opened the wardrobe door and looked longingly at Mike’s clothes hanging there. It would be so easy to wash off her makeup and dress in her male attire but how would she be able to explain Mike’s miraculous arrival and Michele’s disappearance? She looked out the window. The snow was at least three feet deep and still falling.

Michele came out of her bedroom to see Steve sitting in his overstuffed lounge chair sipping a glass of scotch, once again thumbing his way through his small collection of Polaroids.

“You are an awful man Steven Harris. When Mike gets here I’m going to tell him what you did!” she spat.

“Look out the window luv. Mike isn’t getting here through that lot and to be honest I really don’t think you’re going to tell him anything,” Mike sneered.

He sipped his scotch.

“Have a drink if you want; we ain’t going anywhere for a while so you might as well make yourself at home.”

Michele made her way cautiously to the kitchen and poured herself a large whisky. She gulped it down and then poured another and made her way back to the couch, carefully smoothing out her skirt as she sat down.

“So how did you two meet?” Steve looked up from the pictures.

“I just can’t imagine my wimpy nephew meeting a girl like you and I certainly can’t imagine him being able to impress you enough that you would be prepared to wait for him in this isolated cottage in the middle of nowhere,”

Michele ignored him and sipped her scotch.

“So do you two fuck or is it one of those romantic teenage platonic relationships that seem to be all the rage nowadays?” he sneered.

“Fuck off you creep! Mike is a wonderful person! He’s kind, gentle, and would never force himself on a lady like you just did! You disgust me!” Michele replied, the disdain heavy in her voice.

Steve just laughed.

“So we might as well get comfortable and get to know each other a little better,” he chuckled.

Michele sipped at her whisky. She was getting a lot more worried now that it was getting dark. The snow was piling up outside the cottage and showed no signs of letting up and it was obvious her ruse of claiming to wait for Mike would no longer work. She decided to change tack and to also lead the subject away from their sexual encounter.

“Mike probably won’t be able to get here through this snow so I think I’ll just stay the night and leave tomorrow,” she said.

“There’s no fucking chance love; not in this, and not now its nearly night. I’ll bet our Mike is safely at home, snuggled up and warm,” Steve speech was slightly slurred; he’d been drinking constantly since he arrived.

“Well I think I’ll toddle off to bed myself. I’ll leave tomorrow and if you behave yourself there’s probably no need for Mike to know what you did to me,” Michele tried being diplomatic.

“I don’t care what you tell the little wimp to be quite honest. As for behaving myself I think you’ve got tickets on yourself love; I’d rather have a wank,” Steve laughed, but his lecherous gaze gave away the lie.

He was till staring at Michele’s long legs and her tight slim body and making Michele very uncomfortable. She feigned a yawn.

“Well that’s me; off to Bedfordshire,” she stood up and stretched faking another yawn.

Her stretching caused her skirt to rise to the very tops of her thighs and provide Steve with a quick panty-peek. His cock began to thicken again. He kept his eyes glued to her tight arse as she click-clacked to her bedroom on her high-heels, right up until she glanced back at him before closing and locking the door. He could see the fear in her eyes in that glance and for some reason it aroused him further. He was not normally a violent man towards women but being trapped in close proximity to this young coquette, alone, and out here in woods was maddeningly exciting.

Michele saw the look of lust on Steve’s face when she glanced back at him before she had closed the door and she slammed it behind her and locked it. She briefly considered wiping off her makeup and changing into her male clothes and climbing out of the window and running down the road to the highway but she knew it would be suicide in the deep snow and the dark. At least the cottage was warm. The generator was still working and she turned on a bed lamp and sat at her vanity. She did look pretty; no wonder Steve was hot for her. Her cock gave a little spasm trapped in its gaff and she shook her head and cleared her mind of such thoughts. She was thinking about what to wear to bed when she heard the ominous sound of Steve knocking on her door.

Steve stared at Michele’s fantastic arse until it disappeared through the door then he snatched up his polaroids and looked at the pictures he had taken of her; he was almost salivating with lust and he rubbed his growing erection through his jeans. He thought about all of the things that he could probably do to her while they were alone in this cottage. There would be consequences of course; but lust and alcohol were beginning to overcome reason and probity.

He finished his drink and slammed the glass down on the table. He threw the pictures on the table and stood up and strode over to Michele’s bedroom door.

“Fuck it! In for a penny; in for a pound!” he sighed and began to bang on her door.

Michele jumped up and leapt on the bed; the piece of furniture farthest from the door. The door was rattling and Michele could see that the bolt was small and really only designed for privacy not security. It would soon give.

“Go away Steve! Behave yourself! Think of your nephew!” she begged.

She was on her knees, supplicant on the bed; a look of terror on her face.

“Fuck Mike and fuck you!” Steve bellowed through the door.

“In fact I think I will fuck you!” he began kicking door.

Michele was terrified. She knew Steve wouldn’t fuck her; not when he found out she was a boy. But what would he do then? Beat her up? What about when he found she was really his nephew?

“Oh my god! The embarrassment! The humiliation! Jesus; what the fuck am I going to do?” Michele sobbed.

Just then the door gave way and Steve burst into the room.

Michele tried to leap off the bed and make for the window; the only avenue of escape but Steve was too fast and crossed the room in a couple of steps and fell on her.

Steve straddled Michele’s waist, his knees on the bed either side of her; he pinned her hands behind her head. Michele could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Are you going to behave Michele?” he smiled down at her.

Michele nodded her compliance, she hoped that he was only going to dry-hump her legs again; she could live with that. She would encourage him to do so, so that he didn’t try to touch her non-existent breasts or vagina. Steve looked down at the heavily made-up young woman lying prone beneath him. She was very attractive and her perfume excited him; he could feel her breasts through her satin blouse; her tits seemed oddly firm. They would require investigating he thought as he pressed his body against the pretty young girl.

Michele’s head was spinning; she realised the gravity of the situation. If Steve found out that she was really Mike she didn’t know what would happen but nothing good would come of it. She had already endured him mauling her and coming over her legs; she might as well let him do it again if that’s what he wanted. Anything to keep her secret. She figured he probably had one orgasm left in him before the booze made him too sleepy so she might as well let him get it over with and she could hopefully sneak away from the cottage early tomorrow when it was light and the weather was better.

“I’ll behave; just please don’t hurt me,” Michele begged.

“Good girl!” Steve smiled.

Steve placed his free hand on her breasts and squeezed them through the material of her blouse and brassiere the silk and satin sliding against each other deliciously under his fingers. Michele gasped and began to wriggle. She couldn’t let him find out that her tits were really fake.

“Keep still honey, you promised remember?” Steve smiled and leaned down and kissed her.

Michele could not afford to let Steve put his hands inside her bra and discover that her tits were actually rice filled stockings. She stopped struggling and responded to his kiss, entwining her tongue with his. Steve groaned and moved his hands away from her breasts and stroked her face as the kiss intensified.

“So pretty,” Steve sighed, momentarily breaking the kiss, then pressing his lips back to hers.

She felt Steve adjust his position on top of her as he lifted his knees from a straddling position and forced them between her legs. She kept control of herself and allowed Steve to lie on top of her kissing her passionately as she reluctantly responded. She could feel Steve’s penis harden and elongate against her body.

“Mmmmmm! I knew you’d like it eventually Michele,” Steve sighed and slid his hand under her skirt and began pulling at her panties.

Michele froze. ‘Oh my god; I can’t let him there!’ she thought.

She lifted her face up to his and initiated a long passionate kiss and slowly moved a hand between their bodies and stroked his thickening organ through the material of his jeans.

“Mmmmmm; that’s a good girl,” Steve groaned.

It was the first time Michele had touched a penis other than her own. She had felt Steve’s cock on her legs when he had humped her but this different; she was squeezing his member with her fingers. It felt hot, turgid and pulsing through the denim; surprisingly it was not exactly an unpleasant experience.

The fervour of the kiss intensified as their lips mashed together and their tongues entwined and she ran her fingers around the thickening bulge in his jeans and her tactic seemed to be working. He’d stopped yanking at her panties and was content to stroke her pantyhosed thighs and occasionally run his finger across the front panel of her of her satin panties. She was worried that Steve might try to find her non-existent vagina when a more immediate threat ensued.

“Take it out!” he hissed.

“Whaaat?” Michele replied.

“Take out my cock!” he ordered and took Michele’s hand and placed it back on his crotch.

Michele had no choice; if she didn’t take control of the situation Steve might start putting his hands where she didn’t want them. She figured that a little masturbation was worth the price of keeping her secret. She fumbled with his zip and eventually pulled it down and her fingers disappeared inside his jeans. His cock was thick and warm and slowly throbbed. The smell of stale semen assaulted her nostrils; he hadn’t washed his penis since he came on her that afternoon. She manipulated his erection with difficulty but eventually it sprang free of his underwear and popped out his jeans.

Steve reached down and hiked up her skirt and for the second time that day he straddled Michele and began to dry fuck her. Steve rubbed his cock all over her nylon-clad thighs and the front of her panties.

“Fuck that feels so good!” he moaned and then lay down on top of her humping at her like dog in heat.

He lowered his face back to hers and kissed her, driving his tongue deep into her mouth as he writhed on top of her. Michele responded and allowed Steve to hump away at her, she could feel his hot snake-like penis prod and slither against her thighs and the front of her panty crotch. She let him grind against her hoping he would soon be sated. She prepared herself to once again become a sponge for her uncle’s semen. She waited for the hot gush of his seed on her legs and groin. She was surprised to find that she was anticipating it and was subconsciously humping him back.

Then Steve suddenly moved putting his hand under the gusset of her panties and Michele squealed and wriggled, trying to free herself from under him.

“Please don’t Steve! Don’t touch me there! You can come on me again if you want to. I’ll even help you this time,” she begged and reached for his cock to stroke it.

“I think I want a little more than a pantyhose-poke this time Michele,” Steve grinned and suddenly rose back on his haunches.

He dismounted her and pulled her off the bed and onto her feet. He kissed her again and his hand slid under her skirt and massaged her buttocks through the layers of hose and panty; he squeezed and rubbed her cheeks and Michele lifted the front of her skirt and rubbed her satin-clad groin against his throbbing cock. She rubbed and humped against him, encouraging him, wanting him to come on her, to finish soon.

Steve was really enjoying the feeling of his cock nestled against her mound; the cool satin felt delicious against his aching member. But he wasn’t going to make to do with a dry-hump this time. He broke the kiss and pushed down on Michele’s shoulders until she was forced to her knees.

Michele felt the cold floorboards on her knees and she looked up at Steve; her heavy eyeliner and mascara smudged as tears ran down her rouged cheek.

“Please don’t,” she implored him.

Steve looked down at her pretty face; her beautiful hazel eyes enhanced by eyeshadow, mascara and eyeliner, her rosy rouged cheeks, her plum-red lips. He watched the tears run down her cheek and then pulled her face into his groin.

“Kiss it!” he demanded.

Michele realised that she was in terrible trouble. She could either acquiesce to his demands or try to fight him off. If Steve won the fight the consequences were grave; she would be exposed and he still might force her to give him oral sex.

Steve grabbed her head in both hands and pulled her face towards his cock. She felt his penis rubbing against her lips then he forced it into her mouth.

Michele felt the firm mass of Steve’s cock slide between her lips and into her moist warm mouth. It tasted musky but not unpleasant. The skin of his shaft was sleek and she could feel the bulging veins pulsing against her lips. The head felt sleek and spongy. She closed her lips over the shaft almost as a reflex action. The cock was not of itself unpleasant, she didn’t feel the need to gag. She just didn’t want to have to fellate her uncle; the idea was repulsive. She made to spit out the invading member but Steve held her face firmly in his groin. She felt degraded and abused but knew that there was nothing she could really do. Well there was one thing!

“If you bite it, I’ll beat you and then I’ll fuck you senseless. You decide,” he said menacingly.

He must have read her thoughts.

"Suck my cock Michele. Please! I promised I won’t tell Mike," he begged.

He held her head with his cock half in her mouth until Michele complied and reluctantly started suckling him.

Michele gagged as his glans rubbed against her tongue and his shaft slid in and out of her lips. He tightened his fingers and forced Michele’s mouth up and down on his cock. He moaned as she grudgingly sucked his penis. Steve looked down he could see how wide with fear her heavily made up eyes were and he watched as she kept fighting against the urge to gag. The look of shame in her eyes aroused him further.

Michele’s conscious mind receded into to a dark place as she tried to deal with the enormity of what was happening to her. She was fellating her uncle! She listened to his groans combined with the slurping and slapping sounds of her lips as she moved her mouth and tongue against his penis. She almost entered a trance, subliminally allowing herself to be defiled; sucking and licking on the hot fleshy organ invading her mouth. She was now getting used to sucking on the throbbing organ and was no longer gagging.

Michele realised that the best strategy was to get this over as soon as possible; to fellate this man to orgasm so that he wouldn’t impose further sexual demands that might expose her for who she was. She used her tongue to slather the head of Steve’s penis and her lips sucked on his silky shaft. She closed her eyes and got into a steady rhythm and she found she could coordinate her breathing whilst sucking on the cock and using her tongue at the same time. With her eyes closed she imagined that she was one of the sexy models in her fashion magazines reluctantly performing fellatio but secretly enjoying it. A warm pleasurable feeling began to develop in her groin.

After what seemed like an eternity Michele could sense that Steve was close to climax; he groaned louder and vigorously thrust his invading manhood in and out of her mouth. She forced herself to open her eyes and looked up to her uncle looking down on her. His penis seemed about to burst in her mouth.

As she sensed Steve’s climax approach the swelling and the pulsing of his penis were palpable; then suddenly she felt Steve’s cock spasm and discharge into her mouth. She worked hard to control her gag reflex and swallowed his ejaculate as it erupted from the convulsing organ. Steve’s semen tasted warm, bittersweet and musty; not entirely repulsive.

She made a pretence of compliant participation and moved her free hand up and cupped Steve’s scrotum, gently milking the last of his seed with her tongue as she suckled the base of his penis and stroked his scrotal sack, glad that he had finally climaxed. Deep down inside she was actually proud of her accomplishment; she had set out to invoke an orgasm from Steve as quickly as possible and she had achieved her aim.

Steve was still panting as he pulled his deflating penis from her mouth; the last of his seed seeped from his cock and dribbled on her blouse. Michele felt a like a great weight had been lifted off her as Steve sat down on the edge of the bed his head in his hands.

He was obviously feeling remorseful again. Steve obviously believed that forced fellatio was a significantly more heinous crime than a little dry humping, she thought.

“You are a fucking pig!” Michele spat as she wiped at the little globules of semen that Steve had dribbled on her blouse.

“I’m sorry Michele. It’s the booze! It’s being trapped in this cottage alone with you! It’s because you are so fucking sexy that I can’t resist,” Steve tried to apologise.

“Fuck off! Get out!” Michele spat.

“And don’t come back!” Michele added as Steve walked shamefaced out of the bedroom.

She got to her feet and slammed the door behind him and made an effort to try and refix the lock but it didn’t look like it would hold up to much force. She pulled a chair over and jammed it under the door handle and tried to open the door. She pulled the door handle as hard as she could but it wouldn’t budge. It would do for now, she thought.

She sat down at the dresser and sobbed for a while. Then she became of aware of something strange. She hiked up her skirt and looked at her red satin panties; the gusset was wet! She pulled her panties halfway down her thighs and put a hand inside the gusset of her pantyhose and found that her gaff had broken loose and that her penis was semi-tumescent. Her fingers discovered a warm sticky mess between her legs. She pulled her hand out and looked at her fingers and then smelt them. It was semen! Her semen!

To Be Continued…

Michele cleaned herself up as best she could in the bedroom; she only had the small sink but the water was hot and she had some face cloths and towels. She checked the door again and was happy that the chair jammed against the door handle would hold. She shucked out of her skirt and blouse, and her come-stained knickers and hose. She removed her wig and washed off her makeup. She was Mike again; the lean rangy youth whose uncle sat in the next room drinking himself into oblivion.

Mike spent a restless night but managed to fall asleep in the early hours just before dawn. When he woke up it was nearly midday and the cottage was deathly silent. The bedroom was cold and there was only wan light through the frost-crusted window. Mike got out of bed wrapping himself in the doona to keep warm. The bedside lamp would not illuminate and then he noticed that the comforting hum of the generator had stopped. The silence was deafening.

Mike went over to the window and saw that the snow had drifted right up to the sill. He would not be leaving the cottage today. Fuck! What was he to do now?

He decided that he would keep up the ruse of being Michele. Steve hadn’t figured out that he was a transvestite and, more importantly, that Michele was really his nephew; and Mike wanted that secret to not be revealed at all costs. He wasn’t stupid; he knew Steve would probably keep demanding sex from him but if he could keep the sex confined to the dry humping and, if he had to, a little fellatio, then that was the price he would have to pay. He made the mental connection that transformed him from thinking like Mike into thinking like Michele.

Michele had given long hard thought to the events of yesterday. She was disgusted that her uncle had forced himself on her but she had to admit that deep down inside she was a little flattered that she could invoke lust and desire in a man. After all, what was the point in dressing like a woman if you couldn’t behave like one?

That said; the sex was very unsettling. She had been forced to capitulate twice now and even though she felt totally feminie when dressed as Michele, she was very much aware she was a boy in a girl’s clothing. She was a little surprised that she wasn’t more repulsed by the sex, especially the fellatio. In drab, as she was now, the thought of sucking a man’s cock was repulsive, but when she was dressed as Michele she had to admit that she was quite inquisitive about the experience. It was not as bad as she had thought it would be; it was a little empowering, having a man beg you to suck his cock, and the skill was not that hard to master. Even the taste of semen was not too revolting.

It couldn’t have been too bad; the evidence was in her panties! She had orgasmed at some stage whilst performing fellatio yesterday so she must have enjoyed it to some extent.

It was all too much, too fast! She loved dressing up as Michele and she had to admit that she found it exciting to some extent that a man lusted after her. She just wished the man wasn’t her uncle and that he didn’t force himself on her.

She cleared her mind and thought about what she would do today. She needed a shower and to transform. The problem was that most of her clothes were how would you say it? Licentious? Provocative? Sluttish? Yes; that was it: sluttish! Her wardrobe consisted of miniskirts, tight blouses, high-heels and sexy lingerie. The last thing she wanted was to be dressed like a trollop around Steve. Michele walked over the wardrobe and opened it, flicking through the skirts and blouses until she found the nice business suit skirt-jacket combination that she had bought at Oxfam. It was almost exactly like the suits her mother wore to work and was the closest thing she had to modest attire. He laid it out on the bed.

Snap! In her mind she was Mike once again.

Mike cautiously removed the stool from against the door and opened it just a crack. Steve was fast asleep on the couch surrounded by empty booze bottles. He was snoring and it was obvious he wouldn’t be waking for quite a while. Mike briefly considered checking Steve’s pockets for his car keys and stealing his car but he couldn’t drive very well and even if he could the road was under three feet of snow.

He padded across the room still wrapped in the doona, his feet cold on the bare floor. The fires in the hearth and the combustion stove had burned down to embers but they still provided enough heat to keep the cottage tolerable and to keep the hot water warm. Mike shaved closely even though he wasn’t very hirsute and his facial hair was only really fluff. He took a long hot shower and brushed his teeth. He checked the coast was clear and padded back to his bedroom.

Time to become Michele once more!

Snap!

Michele sat down at the dresser and applied foundation and finishing powder, then eyeliner and then eyeshadow, blush and lipstick. A final coat of finishing powder and she was nearly done. She spent a few minutes painstakingly applying mascara to her eyelashes and after a few touches she was happy with the results. She would have liked to become a blonde today but the sudden change in hair style and colour would definitely raise Steve’s suspicions so she brushed out the shoulder-length brunette bob she had worn yesterday, fitted it to her head and adjusted it so the fringe sat straight.

Her toenails and fingernails were still coated with the plum red nailpolish she had applied yesterday and they didn’t require any touching up.

Once again Michele was amazed at the transformation; she looked very attractive and feminine. She had laid out some underwear on the bed next to the suit and now came the most exciting part of the transformation. Putting on her lingerie. She put on a mauve satin brassiere and filled the cups with her homemade breastforms. She stepped into the matching full-cut panties, having first carefully gaffed her penis out of the way. She decided that today she would wear stockings instead of pantyhose. As much as liked the feel of the sleek pantyhose gusset caressing her parts; there was something sensual and exotic about wearing stockings.

She fitted a black lace suspender belt around her waist and led the garters through the waistband of her panties and out the leg-holes. She had found out to her chagrin that if she put the garters over her panties; she couldn’t pull her panties down very far to attend to nature’s calls.

She opened a packet of Mayfair fifteen-denier fully-fashioned stockings. They were flesh-toned but the back-seam, welts and reinforced Cuban-heels and toes were black. She sat on the bed and carefully rolled them up her lean, coltish legs and pulled them taught and smoothed out the wrinkles. She clipped them to the silver clasps on the suspenders and walked over to the vanity mirror. They looked extravagant and sensuous and they emphasised her long, toned legs. She pulled on a black rayon half-slip and a mauve satin long sleeved blouse. She buttoned the blouse and stepped into the navy-blue skirt. It was tight around her buttocks but at least the hem came down to just above her knees so she would have some modesty whilst she was around Steve. She stepped into a pair of black high-heeled court shoes, what the Americans pumps, and pulled on the suit jacket. It too was tight so she left it unbuttoned.

She checked herself out in the mirror and made a few adjustments, she turned side-on and straightened the seams of her stockings and then she walked over to the dresser and clipped on earings, slipped rings on her fingers and bracelets on her wrists and a nice silver necklace around her neck. She sprayed herself liberally with Poison and then she was ready.

She was once again Michele Nylons, transvestite vixen!

Michele cautiously opened the bedroom door and peeked into the lounge. Steve was still asleep, she was aware that her high-heels were click-clacking on the hard floor and despite the cold she kicked off her pumps and carried them with her into the kitchen so as not to wake her uncle. She stoked the fire in the combustion stove and considered going out to refill the generator fuel tank but she was hardly dressed for it and although the soft light coming through the windows was not very bright, it illuminated the cottage sufficiently and once she got the combustion stove rekindled and lounge room hearth fire burning the place would soon warm up.

She made herself tea and toast and then went back to her room to collect the underwear and blouse she had worn the previous day. She washed them in warm water, rinsed them, and hung them up to dry on the shower rail in bathroom. Just like her mother and sister did at home. She hung up the skirt she had worn yesterday in the wardrobe and made the bed. Doing all these ordinary things took her mind off the obvious question: what was going to happen when Steve woke up?

Michele went back into the lounge and saw that the fire was nearly out; the room was getting cold despite the heat coming from the combustion stove in the kitchen. Michele squatted down next to hearth and began to rebuild the fire.

Steve opened one eye first and then the other. His head ached and his mouth tasted like shit. Then he smiled as he gazed at the sight presented before him. The girl was squatting next to the fire; her luscious buttocks clad in a tight skirt, her legs encased in taupe stockings with black back-seams and reinforced heels and toes. Her jacket was tight around her waist. She had her back to him and her hair was sleek and shiny. He could smell her perfume from here. His cock flinched; but as soon as he tried to get up a bolt of pain shot though his forehead.

Michele heard his movements and she looked back over her shoulder, she looked vulnerable and he could see fear in her eyes. She was safe for now though; Steve was in no shape to do much at all. He reeled to his feet and staggered over to his bedroom.

“Good night,” he mumbled, and collapsed on the bed.

Michele closed the door behind him, grateful that he was well away from her. She slipped on her high-heels and commenced cleaning the house. She found the chores strangely satisfying. She like being dressed as a woman flitting around the house doing the day to day tasks that most women found boring. She liked washing her clothes, making her bed, sweeping the room, washing the dishes and clearing away the clutter. It made her feel more like a woman somehow.

She made herself another cup of tea and sat down and stole one of Steve’s cigarettes and smoked it while she thought long and hard about where she was, what she had become, and what had happened to her. Her fascination with her mother and sister’s panties and hosiery as a young boy had developed into a full blown fetish as she entered puberty. It had evolved into crossdressing in her early teens and had matured to the stage where she was now a full-on transvestite. She even thought like a woman when she was dressed as Michele. Well she thought she thought like a woman anyway.

She whiled away the afternoon drinking tea, reading magazines and tending to the fire. She did anything that took her mind away from her dilemma. What to do about Steve?

She considered the obvious; just changing back into Mike but how would he explain what happened to Michele? He could sit his uncle down and talk to him man to man and explain that he was a transvestite; but the consequences were not worth considering. She could remain dressed in drag and explain to Steve that she was really Mike, his nephew, but once again the consequences were unfathomable. She decided the best thing to do was remain in character as Michele and bluff her way through the next few days and try to keep Steve at bay as much as possible.

It was nearly dark when she heard Steve stumbling about in his bedroom. A cold chill ran down her spine.

Steve half staggered out of the bedroom wearing only his jeans; his hair dishevelled and his eyes bloodshot.

“Jesus; what fucking time is it?” he mumbled.

“Late,” Michele replied.

She decided to lead the conversation away from yesterday’s events and away from anything to with sex.

“Would you like some dinner? I can make us soup and sandwiches?” she asked.

“Sure. Anything you want love,” Steve replied absentmindedly, intent on getting to the bathroom.

He left the door open and Michele could hear him pissing into the toilet bowl. It was somehow vaguely erotic imagining him siphoning his long thick cock; and Michele shook her head to clear the image from her mind and concentrated on making their dinner. She heard the bathroom door slam and the shower begin to run and she wondered if Steve had left the door open on purpose when he peed just to annoy her.

He came out of the bathroom about half an hour later, a cloud of steam bellowing from the door. He looked a lot better. He’d shaved, showered and washed his hair. He wore it a little long for a man in his forties. He had a towel around his waist and Michele couldn’t help but look. He’d once been very well built but now sported a little pot; he had very little body hair and Michele thought he wasn’t too bad for a man his age. He was certainly handsome; handsome enough for her mother to have an affair with at least.

He smiled at her as he walked past the kitchen on the way to his bedroom.

“Smells good,” he smiled again.

Michele smiled back despite her loathing for him. She was confused by her feelings. She despised him for what he had done to her; whilst at the same time she found herself vexingly attracted to him. She stirred the soup and then laid the table. She made sandwiches and poured the soup into bowls and bought them to the table. She quite liked playing the role of a housewife whilst being dressed like this. She imagined she was a character in one of the many novels she read; the pretty young housewife who needs to be rescued perhaps? She smiled to herself and once again shook her head.

“Silly cow!” she whispered to herself.

Steve came out of his bedroom wearing a dressing gown and slippers. He smelt of soap and aftershave; very masculine.

“This looks great,” he beamed as he sat down at the table.

Michele sat down opposite him and they both ate in awkward silence. Steve got up from the table and went to the kitchen; he opened the fridge and took out a bottle of wine.

“Want one?” he showed the bottle to Michele.

She nodded and Steve bought the wine and glasses to the table and poured them both a drink.

“Here’s hoping the snow clears soon,” he held out his glass and Michele clinked hers to his.

“Jesus, I hope it does. Looks like there’s still some more to come though,” he nodded to the window; sheets of snow whipped against the glass.

“Yes I hope so too,” Michele said soberly.

The awkward silence continued until eventually Steve couldn’t take it any more.

“Look about yesterday…………I’m sorry…………I was pissed and I’d just left my wife and I was angry and stupid. I’m so sorry,” the words stumbled out.

“You coerced me into to have sex,” Michele’s head was bowed; she couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Wow-there girly! I thought you liked it? It was just a little slap and tickle,” he tried to make light of it.

“Forcing your penis into my mouth is slap and tickle is it?” Michele responded.

“Oh come on love; don’t be like that. Like I said; I thought you liked it. Never mind; I promise I won’t do anything like that again,” he said apologetically.

“Thank you,” Michele replied cynically.

“Unless you want me too,” Steve added cheekily.

Michele glowered at him from across the table and Steve held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

“Ok, ok, ok, just joking,” he beamed and went back to his sandwich.

Despite him being a complete arsehole there was something about his cheeky manner that was hard to dislike. Michele smiled to herself and sipped her soup.

After they had eaten and drank two glasses of wine Michele stood up and began to clear the table. She took her dishes into the kitchen and returned for Steve’s. As she removed his tableware she was very aware of her close proximity to him. She could smell his aftershave and maleness; almost a musky smell; it was quite sentient. Steve was also aware of Michele’s presence; her perfume and makeup, the swish of her nylons as she walked. His cock began to become tumescent.

When she turned to walk away he playfully slapped her behind.

Michele spun on her heels and glared at him but he just gave her a whimsical grin and held up his hands apologetically. She couldn’t help but smile back.

“Behave,” she said sternly; but she was smiling when she said it.

She turned back to the kitchen and be damned if she didn’t swing her lovely arse from side to side; sashaying her buttocks as she walked back to the sink. Steve stared at her ample backside in the tight skirt; his gaze traced the dark back-seams of her stockings from knees to heels. God she was a sexy young thing!

Michele was as surprised as Steve was when she strutted into the kitchen. She had practiced walking around the cottage seductively many times when she had been here alone but this was the first time she had done so in the presence of another person. She knew Steve would be checking out her legs and her behind and she couldn’t help but tease him just a little.

“Can I have another sandwich then?” Steve asked.

“Make it yourself! I’m not your maid!” Michele replied.

“Mmmmmm! I like to see you dressed like a maid,” he chuckled.

“Like I said; behave!” she smiled back.

Steve took a couple of slices of bread and the butter dish over to the lounge and ate slices of bread and butter as he drank his wine. He got up to get another bottle of wine and went back to his seat; his eyes straying to Michele’s firm buttocks.

He came for her again about ten o’clock that evening.

Steve had been amiable enough for most of the evening but then he started drinking heavily again. Michele had a few glasses of wine with him and they got along for a while but after a while he started making lewd comments.

“Good you look good in that suit; I’d like to kiss your toes and then follow the seams of your stockings with my tongue,” he said to Michele who was now sitting across from him on the couch.

“Behave Steve; you promised you would,” she chided him.

“But you’re just so sexy; I want to do things to you,” he leered.

Fingers of fear once again stroked Michele’s psyche. She knew he would soon want more that to just talk about sex; he would want her body. She weighed her options but there weren’t many. She could run to her bedroom and hope that the stool against the lock would hold the door shut, which was unlikely. She could wipe away her makeup and pull off her wig and expose herself as Steve’s nephew but the consequences were unthinkable. She could try to fight him off; but even half-drunk he was stronger than she was.

Or she could capitulate. She could encourage him and let him hump her legs and arse as he liked to do; worse case scenario she could even fellate him. It had turned out giving her uncle a little head wasn’t as bad as she’d imagined; after all she had orgasmed when she did it last. This seemed the safest option. Play along; but at all costs prevent him from finding out that she was a boy.

“What sort of things?” she looked over the rim of her wine glass.

The room was dark; lit only by the firelight and two kerosene lamps now that the generator had failed.

Steve looked at her intently; was the little vixen playing along? She sat on the couch with her legs curled under her; the navy-blue suit clung to her body. The jacket was unbuttoned and the mauve satin blouse was tight around her small breasts. Her skirt had ridden up a little; he could see she was wearing a black slip; the lace edging peeped from under the hem of her skirt. Her long legs, clad in the taupe nylons, seemed to shimmer in the lamplight and he was sure he could just make out the dark bands of her welts. She was wearing stockings! It made sense now, and explained the dark back-seams and the reinforced fully-fashioned Cuban-heels on her nylons. She seductively dangled one of her black high-heels from the toes of her right foot.

The bitch was teasing him!

He looked into her heavily made-up eyes; then at her rouged cheeks and red-lipsticked lips, her jewellery glittered at her earlobes, wrists and decolletage. His eyes found hers; he drew in a breath and inhaled her perfume and continued.

“You know what sort of things. The sort of things I’ve already done,” his breathing was heavy.

Steve was barefoot, dressed only in loose jeans and a cotton shirt. His chest was exposed and the beginnings of an erection began to tent the fabric at his groin.

“I know what you want; you’ve taken it twice. I also know I can’t stop you if you want to take it again so I propose a deal,” Michele said, swinging the pump dangling from her toes.

Steve was mesmerised by the shoe rocking back and forth; dangling from her dark nylon-clad toes.

“Deal?” he replied.

“I’ll let you do what you did to me before. The slap and tickle stuff as you call it. I might even suck you if you behave yourself.”

“First off; I remain fully clothed.”

“And you mustn’t! And I mean mustn’t; try to touch me down there or touch my breasts. I’m saving myself for Mike and he gets to be the first one. Do you understand!” she glared at him intently.

“You mean I can dry hump your legs and you’ll suck my dick but I can’t finger you, fuck you or play with your tits,” Steve translated her demands.

“If you must put it so lewdly yes! And I keep my clothes on. All of them!” she replied sternly.

Michele thought that the deal was too good for Steve to pass up on. A compliant girl ready to do almost anything as long as she remained fully-clothed and he wasn’t allowed to touch her cunt or her tits; which were non-existent anyway.

“Agreed,” Steve answered; his voice thick with lust.

Michele let her dangling high heel drop to the floor and pointed her toe directly at Steve; her red-varnished toenails just perceptible through the black gauzy nylon.

“So what were you saying about I’d kissing my toes and then following the seams of my stockings with your tongue?” Michele wriggled her toes at him.

That set him off! He put down his drink and crawled across the floor to the couch until his face was level with her feet. He pulled Michele’s legs out straight and pulled off her remaining high-heel. Michele wriggled her toes in anticipation of what was to come.

She really liked the feeling of power she held over this man as he worshipped her feet. He held her silken-clad ankles firmly and she could feel his hot breath on her feet through her nylon stockings. Then she felt his tongue begin to explore her toes. He ran it under all of her toes on both feet and then he licked each of her toes individually. She felt her cock hardening tucked away in the crevice of her buttocks; lucky it was restrained by the gaff.

Steve tasted the silky material of her nylons, a scintilla of sweat, and a little trace of her perfume as he sucked her toes. He explored the valley under her toes and then examined each foot with his tongue. Then he put her toes into his mouth, alternating from left to right foot as he sucked and slathered her feet. His cock was rock hard and he was tempted to reach for it but he had a better idea. Michele had her eyes closed and was breathing quite heavily. The sensuous tactility of this man worshiping her feet was surprisingly erotic and she was extremely aroused.

Steve removed Michele’s feet from his mouth and lowered them towards his groin. Michele was filled with expectation and lust and she leaned back on the couch. She was going to enjoy giving her uncle Steve a footjob. She imagined she was one of the pretty models in her fashion magazines and that Steve was her boyfriend.

Michele leaned further back on the couch and her skirt rode up higher exposing her stocking-tops and the crotch of her mauve satin panties. She lowered a stocking encased foot into Steve's lap and watched him begin to squirm and moan.

"Oh Michele!" Steve moaned.

Michele's dark reinforced nylon toes now rubbed against the Steve's hard penis through his jeans. Steve lifted Michele's other nylon encased foot and rubbed it all over his face and Michele enjoyed listening to his muffled moans.

"Oh my god, I can't believe this is happening! Yesterday you fought me tooth and claw and now you’re driving me wild with your feet; they smell so good and feel amazing!" Steve sighed

“Shut up and kiss my foot,” Michele tickled his nose playfully with her toe.

Michele pressed and rubbed one stockinged foot against his erection while Steve worshiped the other foot pressing it firmly over his nose and mouth; inhaling her foot odour and licking at her nylon imprisoned toes. He reached down and stroked the stocking-clad foot that was pressing on his hard cock. He continued to moan; licking and sucking on Michele's toes, sliding his other hand farther up and down Michele's long, sleek stockinged-sheathed legs.

"Take it out!" Michele whispered seductively.

Steve fumbled at his lap; unbuttoned his fly and released his engorged penis. Michele worked her nyloned foot all around his rampant member. She worked her toes on the underside of his shaft, just below his glans. After few strokes from Michele's toes Steve was squirming and groaning. A filament of pre-seminal fluid oozed from the tip of his penis and stuck to Michele's toe; it glistened on the dark reinforced nylon. He began to run his hands up and down the full length of Michele's gossamer-sheathed leg from the tips of her toes to the tops of her hose. He moaned with pleasure as Michele's massaged his phallus with her silken foot.

Michele pulled her other foot away from Steve's face and dropped it into his lap. She placed each of her feet together and arched her soles, trapping Steve's engorged manhood between them. She moved her feet back and forth masturbating Steve's cock with her nylon clad feet.

Steve's cock was swollen, the glans bright red and almost ready to shoot its load. Pre-seminal fluid was flowing freely from the eye of his penis, and the sensation of the wet scratchy-slick nylon sliding up and down his shaft was exquisite. Michele's toes became soaked with Steve's pre-seminal fluid.

Steve looked down at his lap again and watched as Michele's shapely feet slid up and down his straining penis, milking him with her diaphanous encased appendages. The nylon covering her toes glistened with pre-seminal fluid and Steve ran his hands up and down Michele's stockinged legs all the way up her thighs to the dark welts and garter straps. He bucked back and forth fucking Michele's feet and he could sense his orgasm approaching. He firmly grabbed her ankles and pulled her feet from his cock.

“Hey! I was enjoying that!” Michele whined.

“Not the way I wanna come love,” Steve smiled up at her.

He stood up and dropped his pants and ripped off his shirt so he stood naked before her. His penis was rampant and throbbing. He fell on her and she giggled as he began to hug and kiss her.

Michele opened her mouth and met Steve’s tongue with her own; she crushed his lips with hers whilst at the same time raising her legs and wrapping them around his flanks. She knew Steve loved the feel of nylon against his bare skin and she was not disappointed when he groaned. Her plan now was to get him to come against her legs or on her body; worst case scenario she would fellate him. To be honest she was enjoying every minute of their passionate embraces. Her cock was hardening; trying to break free of the gaff. As long as Steve stayed away from her tits and groin she was confident her ruse would hold and she could concentrate on pleasuring herself whilst Steve took what he wanted from her.

Steve’s cock was rubbing on Michele’s legs; he enjoyed the differing sensations as his cock shifted from her sheer nylons to the cool firm flesh of her upper thigh. His cock touched one of her garter clips and he winced as the cold metal snap nipped the flesh of his penis. He didn’t mind actually, because the mild pain held back his orgasm. He was close to coming but didn’t want to just yet.

He extricated himself from Michele’s embrace; much to her disappointment but he wasn’t off her for long. He spun her around so that she was lying on her back on the couch and he mounted her again. She willingly opened her legs to accommodate him; even helping him ruck up her skirt. He kissed her and his cock brushed against her rayon slip leaving a silvery trail of pre-seminal fluid on the slippery black fabric. Michele felt him rummaging around, pulling her slip out of the way and then she felt his hot cock on the front panel of her full cut satin panties; it was hard and throbbing and she became concerned about what he might try next.

“Ok Steve you can rub on my panties but remember our agreement; no penetration!” she warned him.

She raised her hips and ground her belly against him. The feel of his hard member pressing against her flesh with only the flimsy layer of panty material between their bodies was extremely arousing. She kissed him deeply, driving her tongue deep into his mouth, wriggled her hips and wrapped her legs around him once more. She wanted to bring him to release; to feel his hot seed splash on her belly and thighs.

Steve had other plans and before she could stop him he slid his cock inside the leg opening of her panties and it came into contact with her warm flesh. Michele panicked and tried to push him off her but Steve hung on and probed at her groin with his hard manhood. She drummed her heels on his back and pushed at his shoulders to try to dismount him.

“No Steve! No! You promised!” she shrieked.

It was too late; Steve’s cock was buried in her groin trying to find her non-existent vagina.

Steve was stymied; his cock should be buried in the folds of Michele’s labia but instead his cock found nothing but hard flesh and then he realised what was happening.

“Stop! Stop! Stop” Michele cried, but it was too late; her ruse was up.

“Fuck me! You’re a tranny!” Steve exclaimed.

Michele was howling; beating her hands against his body, writhing and wriggling, trying to free herself from his embrace. Steve held her down with his bodyweight and then he did something that Michele was totally unprepared for. He bent his head and kissed her softly.

“Shh, Shh, Shh, Michele its ok honey,” he whispered in her ear.

He stroked her hair and then kissed her eyelids, her cheeks and her mouth with extreme tenderness. Michele was not prepared for this display of affection. She thought Steve would be revolted and at best berate and belittle her and at worst he might beat her.

“It’s ok Michele. I now know what this has all been about. You’re a transvestite and you were scared I’d find out,” Steve said in a soothing voice.

“I actually find it a total turn on that you’re a tranny. I served in the Royal Navy for ten years and I’ve met heaps of trannies over the years,” Steve explained.

“And I have to say that you are heaps sexier and far more attractive than those slanty-eyed lady-boys in Singapore. You are feminine, beautiful and seductive and I want you even more,” he kissed her again; this time softly on the lips.

Michele remembered that her uncle Steve had done a stint in the RN but she was not aware that he was transvestite admirer. She didn’t even know that such men existed! She stopped struggling and lay still letting Steve kiss and embrace her. It felt comforting and exciting at the same time. She looked in his eyes.

“You don’t mind?” she whispered.

“Mind? I think it’s fantastic! I haven’t been with a tranny for years but I’ve never lost my taste for them and you are absolutely gorgeous,” he replied and kissed her again; this time with passion.

‘Well at least he doesn’t know who I am,’ she thought.

They continued to kiss and grope each other and then Michele felt Steve begin to hump away at the front of her panties again and she was happy to respond. His hands stroked her stockinged legs rubbing them from knee to stocking-top and then his fingers stroked her bare thighs.

“MMMMmmm, that’s nice,” Michele moaned.

Steve slid his hand along the front of her panties and then he slipped his fingers inside the waistband. Michele began to struggle again.

“Shh, shh, shh, it’s ok; just let me do this, trust me you’ll like it,” Steve kissed her ear.

Michele felt more than a little trepidation as Steve’s hand slid inside her panties. His fingers found her penis, semi-erect, taped under her groin. She struggled a little but Steve held her still and gently extricated her cock from the gaff, dropping the disused tape on the floor. He positioned her member along her stomach and pulled her panties back up over her penis and lay down on her. His own erection pressed against hers through the satiny panty material. He began to rub his cock against hers and he kissed her deeply.

Michele had never felt anything so exotic in her life. All the times she had masturbated with panties and stockings covering her cock could not compare to the sensation of having a hard prick rubbing her own with the layer of panty material between them. She could feel her uncle’s cock pulse and throb as it massaged her own quivering shaft.

Once again she lifted her legs and wrapped them around Steve’s body; locking her heels behind his back.

“Ride me Steve! Make me come!” she whimpered and ground herself against his hard, hot cock.

She was close to coming and she hoped Steve was too. She wanted to feel his hot seed flood her panties and coat her cock as she too erupted.

Steve adjusted his position slightly and pushed his cock into the crevice of her panty-clad buttocks and began to hump her there. It felt nice but not as nice as his cock against her cock.

“Put it back please honey,” she whispered in his ear and then went back to kissing him whist she wriggled her behind trying to extricate his cock from between her buttocks.

"Stop it you naughty boy," she giggled.

Steve did not stop; instead he pulled the gusset of Michele's panties aside and slid his cock harder into the crease of her soft creamy buttocks.

"Stop it!" Michele yelped; seriously now.

Steve ignored her and his glans probed at her sphincter. Michele screamed and wriggled but Steve was too strong. He held her down with one hand whilst he used the other to guide his penis into Michele’s anus.

Michele screamed.

“No!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Please don’t Steve; I don’t want this; I’m not ready for this,” Michele pleaded.

She knew what Steve was trying to do and the very idea of it shocked and appalled her. Steve ignored her pleas.

“It’s ok Michele; the first time will hurt a little but then it will be wonderful. It’s just like the first time for a girl,” he smiled down at her but Michele would still not consent to what he was about to do.

She did not want to be sodomised!

Steve reached out to the coffee table and took a dollop of butter from the butter dish and spread it thickly over Michele’s sphincter and his long thick shaft; all the while Michele wriggled and struggled underneath him. He used his bodyweight to hold her down.

“Stop! Stop! Don’t! Don’t!” she screamed.

But they were alone in the cottage miles from anywhere. There was no one to hear her cries. Outside the snow continued to fall.

Michele was just about to scream out again when the head of Steve’s penis pierced her sphincter. The butter eased the entry of Steve’s cock past her tight bud but the pain was still incredible. Michele moaned and bucked in pain but Steve would not remove his phallus from inside her, he only had his glans inside her and he didn’t try to push any more of himself inside her but he still held her down.

“Ohhh!!! Hurts! Hurts! Hurts! Hurts! Hurts! Hurts!” Michele whimpered.

“Shhh Honey; relax and it will be ok,” Steve whispered, trying to sooth her.

“No! No! No! No! No! No! Take it out!!!” Michele moaned.

Michele was feeling a constant deep burning sensation combined with spasmodic twinges of intense pain shooting from her sphincter. She whimpered and wriggled trying to expel the intruder from her back passage but Steve held on.

“Michele!!!” he hissed; and she stopped struggling and listened to him.

“Look honey, the worst is over I promise, if you lie still and let me; I can make this experience special for you. Or you can keep struggling and I’m going to fuck you anyway and then it’s really going to hurt!”

Michele realised that once again she had been vanquished and she would do anything to stop the excruciating pain that was coming from her back passage. She sighed and lay still; her anus pierced by Steve’s penis; she was smart enough to know that fighting was only going to make the pain worse. She tried to relax her sphincter but her instinct was to try to push against the object invading her anus; not to accept it.

“That’s it honey,” said Steve as he felt Michele’s sphincter spasm as she tried to relax it.

“It will be ok I promise.”

Michele was quietly sobbing but at the same time she forced her inner muscles to relax. Amazingly the twinges of intense pain began to subside; she still felt the burning sensation around the entrance to her anus but it was tolerable. Steve took another dollop of butter from the dish and applied it his shaft.

“Ok honey; keep relaxed, I really don’t was to hurt you,” Steve soothed.

Millimetre by millimetre Steve slowly pushed himself inside Michele; he took his time and whenever Michele flinched he stopped and soothed her as his shaft slowly disappeared inside Michele’s rectum. Michele felt full and intensely uncomfortable, the urge to expel Steve’s penis was immense and she had to physically and mentally prevent her internal muscles from contracting.

After ten minutes Steve had about half of his girth buried inside Michele’s anus he raised her legs so that they rested over his shoulders. He looked down at her pretty face and smiled.

“It’s ok Michele; you’re doing fine.”

Michele’s only response was a silent tear. She had stopped sobbing and now and only mewed softly, but now that she had relaxed her sphincter she really didn’t feel any pain. Even the burning sensation had subsided; she just felt full.

Steve continued to press slowly forward cooing and encouraging Michele to stay calm and relax her anal muscles. When he had about three quarters of his shaft inside her, he sensed her internal muscles respond and she gasped. He knew what it was; it was not pain. His glans had found her prostate gland. Her reaction was pleasure not pain.

Steve knew better than to rush; he took his time pushing the remaining few centimetres of his shaft inside Michele until eventually he was buried deep inside her with his scrotum resting snugly against her. He wriggled his penis inside her to stimulate her prostate and he kissed her. She began to respond and she kissed him back.

“Mmmmmm, that feels good Steve. The pain has stopped and it feels quite nice,” she smiled up at him.

“I told you it would hurt but only for a little while. Just stay relaxed and it will get better,” Steve lowered his face to hers and kissed her again.

He rubbed her silken-hosed legs and she rubbed them against his body because she knew he particularly liked it.

She felt Steve’s glans rub against an area inside her that suddenly caused waves of intense pleasure to course through her body. As his penis stimulated her prostate, rings of pleasure ran up and down her insides; her sphincter responded and loosened and began to emit its own tingling ripples of pleasure. Michele gasped.

When Steve lowered his mouth to hers she kissed him back, deeply, passionately. She drove her tongue into his mouth and lifted her buttocks up off the couch and pushed herself up against him; her legs moved around his waist; she locked her ankles together and held him against her. She felt totally feminine lying here underneath this man; wantonly giving herself to him.

They fucked slowly but passionately taking their time; Steve easing his penis in and out of Michele’s anus with long slow thrusts as she raised herself up to meet him. There was no fervent thrashing or pounding; just firm, slow deep thrusts providing the maximum stimulation for both of them. They said little to each other, the fucking was accompanied by one long passionate kiss.

"Oh fuck me honey!" Michele moaned and began to push back against Steve as he slid in and out of her tight passage.

Michele's cock became fully erect in her panties. Steve’s reached down and squeezed Michele's penis through her panties.

"Ohhh!!!" Michele moaned.

Steve fucked Michele and she fucked him back; both of them moaning and groaning with the intensity of their passion. He squeezed and stroked Michele's hard penis and the stimulation she felt from having her cock massaged through her satin panties amplified the rings of pleasure that radiated from her anus. She was going to come.

Steve's cock throbbed and he frantically squeezed Michele’s cock through her panties. He unloaded his seed inside her; his cock pulsing and juddering as his scrotum contracted ejecting steams of hot semen. Michele felt her back passage flood with Steve’s sperm and this triggered her own orgasm.

Michele felt him orgasm; his cock was fully embedded in her, his scrotum tickling her buttocks when he shuddered and wriggled his member inside her as it pulsed and throbbed. He was kissing her passionately, their tongues entwined, lips mashed, their teeth occasionally cracking against each other with the intensity of the kiss.

Michele moaned as her own orgasm shook her body and she felt her penis begin to pulse and expel her issue. Steve slid a hand between their bodies and milked her as she ejaculated, hot semen soaked into her panties.

Michele slid her stocking-sheathed legs up and down Steve's torso and pulled him harder against her; her fingernails raked his back as their lips crushed together and their tongues intertwined. Michele drummed her heels against Steve's hard buttocks.

Steve lay on top of her, supporting his weight on his elbows as they both slowly came down from their orgasms. He placed soft little kisses on her lips and kissed her on the eyelids and stroked her hair. Michele felt fully sated and very feminine. She felt like she knew what it would be like to be woman who had just been made love to and her lover, in no hurry to leave, was content to remain in her arms.

"We need to talk Steve," Michele said sometime later.

To Be Continued….

Not getting much in the way of comments so maybe this story is a bit too 'hard' for this site...one chapter to go anyway

“Here’s the thing,” Michele began.

They were lying side by side on the couch; Steve was still naked and Michele still fully-clothed although her skirt was still hiked up and her knickers were in disarray.

“We’re stuck here until this snow storm passes and the road clears; so at least for a few days.”

“You’ve taken pretty much everything I have to offer, despite my protests and I’m not stupid enough to think you are going to stop taking what you want from me while we are here.”

“Michele……..” Steve tried to interrupt.

“Steve; just shut the fuck up and listen for once!” Michele interceded.

“As I was saying. I have to admit you have opened up a whole new world to me Steve. When I first started crossdressing I never realised how exciting, sexy and downright pleasurable it would be if a man treated me the same as he would treat a woman.”

“Not that you have been at all chivalrous; let’s be honest you have forced yourself on me every step of the way.”

Steve tried to interject again but Michele held up her palm and stopped him.

“And yes I have come to like it very much.”

“So here is the deal. We can have a good time together while it lasts; I’m talking about everything we’ve done so far and I’m sure you have some other tricks to teach me.”

Steve’s face was beaming.

“But there are some ground rules!”

“You never ever, ever, get to see me in drab. You will only ever see me dressed as Michele; and you are to make no attempt to try and see me in my male persona.”

“Suits me. I don’t want to know who you are; you’re just Michele to me,” Steve interjected successfully this time.

“Good! And you stop forcing yourself on me; we have to have mutual respect for each other,” at this statement Michele reached down and gave Steve’s cock a playful squeeze.

It started to harden immediately and Steve reached for her.

“Wait!” Michele restrained his advances.

“Do you agree to these terms?” Michele looked him seriously in the eyes.

“Yes, I promise Michele,” Steve said, the sincerity was clearly evident in his voice.

“Good; now kiss me and get me randy and if you’re lucky I’ll suck on you for a while before I let you fuck me again,” Michele reached for him.

They spent another four days in the cottage and Steve lived up to his end of the bargain. Michele rose early and was allowed to use bathroom unencumbered; then she returned to her room and made herself up and get dressed. She even allowed Steve to check out her wardrobe and select what clothes he would like her to wear and choose which wig he wanted her to wear the next day.

Steve liked the deal. He was a late sleeper and he really didn’t want to know who the man was under the makeup. He just thought of her as Michele. He had no problems with her being a transvestite; in fact he loved it! He pleasured her as much as she pleasured him but he didn’t want anything to do with her male persona.

When the snow cleared enough for him to drive out he made preparations to leave. They had a long satisfying sexual tryst that lasted three hours and then Steve packed his car and prepared to say his goodbyes.

“Do you think Mike will come to the cottage now the snow is clearing?” Steve asked.

“I hope so I’m going to wait a couple of days for him; by tomorrow he should be able to get through on his bike,” Michele had become a convincing liar.

“I’d really like to know how you two got together,” Steve sighed.

“I told you that conversation is off limits! As far as Mike’s concerned he’ll never know that I met his uncle. He’ll think I was here alone; snowed in,” Michele replied.

“And when he does get here I’m sure he’ll be very surprised at some of the things I’ve learned,” Michele smiled mischievously at him.

Steve spanked her playfully on the buttocks and pulled her into his embrace one last time. They kissed passionately for a while and then Michele gently pushed him away.

“Go home to your wife and hopefully she’ll forgive you; you adulterous bastard,” she smiled cheekily.

“Will I ever see you again?” Steve asked, not for the first time today.

“I told you Steve; I’m Mike’s girl. But who knows what the future holds,” Michele smiled sadly at him.

Steve climbed into his little car, started it up and carefully pulled away following the still snow-covered road. He wound down a window and waved. Michele waved back and then disappeared inside out of the cold.

Michele didn’t trust Steve; she thought he might decide to come back so remained in drag for the rest of the day while she cleaned up the cottage and made her own preparations to leave. The next day for the first time in seven days Mike arose as himself and dressed in his male clothes after his shower. He packed away Michele’s clothes, makeup and other accoutrements in their secret stowage, packed his backpack and carefully rode home.

Mike’s mother Doris stayed in Majorca for Christmas and Charlotte spent it at one of her boyfriend’s house. Mike quite enjoyed having the house to himself but he didn’t dress as Michele; he’d left most of his girly accoutrements at the cottage anyway. He actually found it quite nice to have a break from the ritual of getting up and putting on makeup, selecting sexy clothes to wear and keeping uncle Steve satisfied. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed every minute of it once she and Steve had come to their understanding. But it was nice to have a break anyway.

But by the New Year Mike was keen to transform back into Michele and headed off to the cottage for some girly fun. But it just wasn’t the same! It was exciting putting on makeup, lingerie, shoes and sexy outfits; but with no one to appreciate her and to have sex, it was a little boring really. Now that Michele had tasted the delight of having an admirer appreciate and lust after her, being at the cottage alone was quite a letdown and disappointment.

But a couple of weeks later things changed for Mike. His mother having recently returned from Majorca announced that uncle Steve and aunty Joyce had reconciled. Even more surprisingly she announced that she and aunty Joyce were going back to Majorca to settle their differences and make up. Steve would remain behind as part of his punishment.

“If he can behave himself while we’re gone for a week, Joyce will take him back for good,” his mother proclaimed.

“But aren’t you as much to blame mom? Weren’t you the one he was committing adultery with,” Mike replied.

His mother gave him a vicious look and he knew to keep his mouth shut.

“We’re going to Majorca to rekindle our friendship and you’re going to stay with you uncle Steve to keep an eye on him. If he plays up while we are away you let us know when we get back,” Doris proclaimed and went upstairs to pack.

The seed of a cunning plan germinated in Mike’s mind and he smiled to himself.

“So uncle Steve; its good news that you and aunty Joyce are back together,” Mike tried to make conversation.

He was sitting in lounge room of his uncle’s house, having dropped his things in a spare bedroom half an hour beforehand.

Steve was sitting in an overstuffed lounge chair staring at the telly, drinking a beer. He house was warmed by a large open fire and he was dressed in ratty dressing gown.

“I know you’re here for the week kid and I also know you’re here to keep an eye on me but this will work out better for both of us if you just leave me alone and do your own thing,” Steve muttered, his eyes never leaving the TV.

“So where did you stay when aunty Joyce threw you out?” Mike asked, he was smiling, knowing Steve couldn’t see him.

“I err; I went to a doss house; you know, a cheap rooming house,” Steve lied.

“You could have gone to the cabin if you had left before the blizzard. I was going there to meet my girlfriend there; but it was snowed in and I couldn’t get through,” Mike was smirking now, watching Steve wriggle uncomfortably in his seat.

“Yeah, well, a shame that,” Steve was interested now.

“So what’s this girlfriend of yours like then?” he asked.

“Didn’t know her long; we hooked up at a coffeehouse in Chelmsford and I only met up with her a couple of times. I didn’t even get to shag her,” Mike was grinning like the Cheshire cat now.

Steve choked on his beer.

“Never mind; might have been for the best, young love and all that,” Steve felt a little smug.

‘The silly bastard never even knew she was a tranny,’ he thought to himself.

“Still; I wouldn’t have minded shagging her; she was a good looker,” Mike replied wistfully.

“Anyway best leave you to your beer and telly then uncle Steve,” Mike said.

“That’s a good lad; maybe we can share a beer a bit later,” Steve had already dismissed his nephew and was concentrating on his TV show again.

Mike went upstairs and stripped down to his underpants and padded down to the bathroom. He showered and shaved and removed any rogue hairs from his mainly depilated body and then went back to his room and locked the door. He shook out the contents of his backpack onto the bed and opened his suitcase. Under the top layer of men’s clothing was the navy-blue business suit skirt-jacket combination he had bought when he first started crossdressing. He smiled to himself as he shook it out.

“You’re in for quite a surprise uncle Steve,” he grinned.

Michele came downstairs on stockinged feet clutching her high-heels so as not to make a sound. Steve was dozing in front of the TV and Michele snuck up behind him and put on her heels, resting on the back of his chair to support herself as did.

It didn’t take long for her perfume to invade Steve’s nostrils and he woke with a start and shook his head to clear it.

“I’ll have that beer now uncle Steve,” Michele said as she walked around the chair to stand in front of her uncle.

Steve was gobsmacked; speechless!

Michele reached our her elegant fingers adorned with silver rings; her nails painted cherry-red and grasped Steve’s beer glass and took a delicate sip. Her lipstick left an imprint of her lips on the rim of the glass.

“A bit warm;’ Michele screwed up her face.

“I’ll get us some cold ones,” she said and strode off to the kitchen, her heels click-clacking on the floor.

Steve was still trying to come to terms with what was happening. He craned his neck around the seat and looked at the gorgeous young transvestite as she bent down to look in fridge.

She was wearing the navy suit that she had worn one time up at the cottage with a mauve satin blouse. The hem of her skirt sat nicely at mid-thigh. She was wearing taupe hosiery with black high-heels, a brunette wig, and lots of makeup, jewellery and perfume. He felt his cock begin to stir.

Michele came back and sat down on the couch offering Steve a beer and sipping one herself.

“You’ve figured it out then?” she asked.

“Figured what out?” Steve was still confused and groggy.

“I’m not Mike’s girlfriend,” Michele said coyly.

Then it hit Steve like a blow from a sledgehammer.

“No your not you’re actually Mik…”

“Michele!” Michele cut him off.

“I’m just Michele,” she smiled.

“I debated with myself whether I would see you again and decided I would. But how I would go about it?” Michele went on.

Steve was about to interject but Michele leaned over and put a finger on his lips.

“This is how it will work. It’s almost the same deal we had at the cottage,” she went on.

“When we are together like this; we will never discuss my male persona. For all intents and purposes he doesn’t exist; only Michele exists.”

“When I’m in my male persona; we will never discuss Michele. That’s the rules!”

“And when we spend weekends and the occasional holiday up at the cottage we have the same rules as before; you will only ever see Michele, never Mike,” she concluded and sipped her beer.

“What makes you think I want anything to do with you now? What makes you think I want spend weekends with you up at the cottage,” Steve replied petulantly.

Michele gave Steve a sexy smile and snaked a finger along her skirt and began to slide the hem up her thighs until her stocking-tops and a glimpse of creamy white thigh crept into view. Steve growled.

“Because I can see the erection tenting your dressing gown and you can’t take your eyes off me,” she smirked.

“You want to fuck me so badly tha………”

Michele never got to finish the sentence, Steve pounced on her; pushing her down on the couch as he lay top her, his lips finding her and his hands searching for her thighs.

Michele opened her lips and slid her tongue into Steve’s mouth and they explored each other with their tongues and their fingertips. Steve had his hand under Michele’s skirt and was stroking her thighs and Michele was gently caressing Steve though his underpants. This didn’t last for long; both of them were hot for sex and Michele began to writhe under Steve and she squeezed his turgid member.

Steve took the very unsubtle hint and quickly stripped off his robe; Michele tore at his underpants and pulled them off. She hiked up her skirt so she could open her legs and pulled Steve back down to her. His cock pressed against hers through the silky material of her panties.

Michele had not even considered using a gaff tonight; she wanted sex as much as Steve did and she wanted him to pleasure her. They kissed and fondled each other as they ground their crotches together. Both of their hard cocks were leaking pre-seminal fluid and close to climax.

Michele reached between their bodies, pulled her panties aside, and guided Steve’s manhood to her puckered hole. For a second Steve was worried he might hurt her; he knew she was tight and he hadn’t lubricated. He needn't have worried.

Michele pushed herself up and impaled herself on Steve’s quivering cock; she had lubricated herself before coming downstairs and he slid into her like a dagger slides into a sheath. Michele felt that exquisite fullness that only a hard cock in the anus can provoke.

Steve felt her sphincter open and as his erection slid deep into her anus; her tight slick tunnel gripped his throbbing cock. He began to hump her and she humped him back. She lifted her legs and put her feet behind his back, ensuring her stocking-clad thighs rubbed on his flanks; she knew that he loved that. They kissed and moaned and ground and fucked each other.

Steve let out a bellow and pushed his cock deep into Michele’s bowels and ejaculated. Michele rose up and ground against him, forcing his pulsating cock to stimulate her prostate. Her panty-clad cock rubbed against Steve’s belly and she climaxed into her panties.

Michele drummed her heels on Steve’s back and he raked her thighs as they kissed and climaxed. She could feel Steve discharging himself inside her; filling her with hot semen. Steve could feel her back passage pulsing, squeezing his cock, and milking the sperm from it. He felt Michele’s warm emission on his belly.

They kissed, stroked and fondled each other for a few minutes until their orgasms subsided. Steve pulled his deflating penis from Michele’s anus and a little flood of semen escaped her sphincter and soaked into her panties.

Steve looked down at the heavily madeup woman beneath him; her hazel eyes enhanced by black eyeliner and mascara which had smudged a little. He kissed her cheeks, her earlobes, her eyelids and finally her lips.

“You are fucking wonderful Michele,” he grinned.

“So I take it you accept my proposal,” she smiled up at him.

“Of course,” he replied.

“Look on the bright side Steve; I’ll be able to tell aunty Joyce that you didn’t commit adultery with another woman while she was gone,” Michele giggled.

“Shut up Michele,” Steve laughed and lowered his lips to hers.

The End

Having finished their tryst in the snowbound cottage Michele and uncle Steve go their separate ways but before long Michele begins to yearn for Steve’s attention. Can she somehow arrange a meeting with her uncle? Will she tell him who she really is? Enjoy the final instalment of this yarn.

xxx
Michele