I would do the kiddy thing and put a slip on like a dress,put my feet into her heels, and try to walk around the room, and Momwould laugh and call me her little princess. She would pick me up andhug me, and I came to love the close bond we had. Later, as I got a bitolder, I would still hang around my mother, but now with a bit moreinterest. I would still pull on one of her slips or nighties, and shewould still laugh, but then things got a little different.We were in Mom's bedroom one rainy summer's morning, and had justfinished making the beds and vacuuming the upstairs, when she turned tome and asked me if I still liked wearing her clothes. This was like abolt out of the blue. I was a teenager, and even though I was a bitembarrassed about it, I did love our little game where I put somethingon, and she would hug me tight. and to be quite honest, I was beginningto love wearing her soft silky things. So, I told her how pretty andsoft her things were, and how lucky girls were to. “No regrets in the morning?”“We’ll deal with the morning in the morning,” Heather answered. Lust crazed as I was, that was good enough for me. I slammed my big tool the rest of the way into Heather’s well lubricated canal.“Mmmmm...” Heather purred. “I always loved your size.” I went to work coupling with the girl of my dreams. Was it good? It was spectacular. I’d love to say we made love for an hour ... or half an hour ... even ten minutes. I was too excited and libidinous to last more than a few minutes.Those minutes were spectacular. Heather had always been a responsive lover. She humped back in time to my thrusts. She caressed me and encouraged me to keep going. She verbalized her desires and helped me give her what she needed. I came like a freight train when I finally came, pumping what seemed like a gallon of semen and sperm into my lover.I rolled off and collapsed on the bed beside Heather. I had one nagging concern I couldn’t shake. Was she sleeping with me because she wanted.
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