The following day while I was at work Isabel telephoned my mother andfound out about Natasha.Perhaps it's time I explained.My father bailed on us when I was two or three years old. I don'tremember him at all.Oddly, however, his sister, Stacey, moved in with Mum shortly after that.She took on Dad's old job and helped to support Mum financially.Despite effectively having two Mums, Mum found me difficult to controlwithout a Dad and when I reached the age of six had introduced "petticoatpunishment" to control my behaviour.Apparently dressing me up as a girl and calling me "Natasha" calmed medown and made it easier for Mum to control my temper. For a while Iwould try to fight against being forced to wear girls' clothes but Mumwas bigger than me and would force me into the clothes.When Aunt Stacey first saw me dressed as Natasha I was wearing a littleblack dress and she said, "Isabel, she looks just like her father!" witha tear in her eye. "But you really shouldn't dress Natasha like that. She was every inch the woman I went to bed with last night, if not even more beautiful with her hair so full and the slit in her gown exposing her full thighs.‘Did you sleep well? I am so sorry for drifting off, combination of the wine and the utter ecstasy you left in obviously knocked me out cold.’ she moved closer, her hips snaking. I put down the coffee cups and embraced her, letting my lips melt into hers. She pulled away after a short kiss. ‘Is that a result of me falling asleep?’ I looked around confused, and Rose immediately dropped her eyes to my tented boxers as I blushed. ‘Ahh ermm, yes I guess so. I hadn’t noticed it sorry, must have been you in that gown.’ ‘Well words are meaningless, there’s no point in me apologizing, its actions that count baby.’ With that she dropped to her knees on the cold tile flooring, kissing my thighs and rubbing my boxer clad crotch. As she slipped her manicured fingers inside the material we both let out a moan at the same time, Rose pulled.
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