After being victimized in an abusive marriage, Charlotte' husband is kind enough to kill himself in a drunken auto accident
Chapter two (Charlotte’s escape)
I had no idea what I was going to do in San Francisco; I only knew I was free.
After landing I took a cab to an inexpensive motel and paid for a week. They sent up a crib for Robin.
I just relaxed for two days, lounging by the pool. I knew I needed to get a move on but it felt so nice.
Finally, on day three, I bought a buggy for Robin and walked to a nearby Bank of America branch where I opened a checking account with the $10,000 cashier’s check.
There was a used car lot just down the street from the bank and I stopped there. I found a second or maybe third hand Toyota Corolla which the salesman graciously parted with for $2000. After arranging for tags and insurance I drove off the lot. I had wheels, pretty bedraggled wheels, the thing had over 150,000 miles, but I had wheels.
The next day I found a little, inexpensive one bedroom furnished apartment that I rented on a month to month basis, no lease, the only thing I had to supply was a crib for Robin and I bought a travel crib, smaller than a standard crib but there wasn’t much room in the apartment; it worked.
After the week in the motel that I’d pre-paid was up we moved in. I planned to take three months before I looked for work. I wanted to spend some time bonding with my baby.
For a week I just lounged around, I’d take Robin for rides in the car; he’d just gurgle and coo, he loved riding, or I’d push him around in his buggy on walks, exploring the city and its parks.
I’d pick up the paper every day, checking the want ads, not ready to seek work, just seeing what was available. There wasn’t much for a nineteen year high school graduate with no work experience. I saw that I was going to have to further my education if I was to earn enough to support Robin and me.
One day I read about a support group for battered wives. Although I was no longer a wife I’d certainly been battered, I called to find out when the met. I got that information and learned that they had a child care center so there’d be a place for Robin. I went to the next meeting.
Most of the women were just seeking shelter and safety but some, mostly the hosts were fanatic man hating feminists. One of them, Lydia Landrey took a special interest in me and singled me out for her attention. After the third meeting she asked me to come to her home the following evening where we could share a bottle or two of wine and get to know each other better. I gratefully accepted her offer; I was going a little stir crazy cooped up in my apartment, along with Robin. She gave me directions and asked if six thirty was alright, I said yes.
When I got there Lydia made up a pallet for Robin and served each a glass of pink Zinfandel. We sipped our wine and nibbled on some crackers and cheese. After some small talk, getting to know each other Lydia asked me what had brought me to San Francisco and to the women’s group. I hesitated; my wounds were still too fresh so she told me her story. It was even worse that mine.
Lydia had been sexually abused by her father starting at ten years old, it had continued until she was able to escape. She’d met a man at their church. He was older, thirty, but he was polite and solicitous of her and they’d started dating. She had to sneak out but that wasn’t difficult, most evenings her father would pass out drunk by eight o’clock.
The day after she graduated she and her Prince Charming, her savior eloped. She’d told him, his name was Harold, about her abuse so she knew he wasn’t expecting a virgin.
Harold had rented a lakeside cabin for a week for their honeymoon, the view, the setting were beautiful. Lydia was in heaven, they had a nice dinner at a nearby resort and Harold had several drinks then went returned to the cabin. Lydia told me she was so anticipating sex with Harold, sex with love that her panties were damp by the time they got back. She expected Harold to take her to bed but he insisted that they have champagne to celebrate. Two bottles later, Lydia was tipsy and Harold was drunk.
He took her to the bedroom and undressed her. She’d bought a beautiful, sexy, skimpy pair of baby doll pajamas. She started to put them on but Harold said, “You won’t need those.”
Harold was naked, sitting on the side of the bed and he asked him to come to him. As she neared, he reached and took her hand. She thought he was guiding her to the bed, the bed where they’d make passionate love; instead, he pulled her across his knees.
“You are my wife and I am your Master, you will do and act as I tell you. If you do not, if you deviate from my instructions in the slightest you will be punished. I am going to discipline you tonight so you will know what to expect.” With that, he thrashed her, unrelentingly beating her for over ten minutes leaving her sobbing, agonizing and broken.
“Now you know what will happen if you disobey, prepare yourself so we may consummate our marriage.”
Lydia said she got up from his lap and tried to run to the bathroom. He caught her, threw her on the bed and mounted her.
The honeymoon week was hell. For every contrived reason he could find Harold spanked her. On there final day, she offended him in some major way. He dragged her into the bedroom and told her to strip and bend over the bed. Afraid for her life she complied. He pulled the belt from his pants and strapped her, bruising her and raising welts from hip to hip and all across her bottom and thighs. When he stopped he said, “Get dressed, we’re leaving.”
She endured it for two months, he whipped her nightly and did things to her even her father hadn’t. He sodomized her several times a week but, at least not like Howard, he at least used a lubricant.
After two weeks she ran. She couldn’t go back to her father’s house so she took to the streets. She was lucky; a lady who oversaw a shelter found her and took her in. She’d introduced her to the women who ran the battered wives program. She’d worked there ever since, twelve years. Lydia was now thirty and hadn’t been with a man since she’d run.
After hearing her horror story I couldn’t hold back. I told her everything Howard had done me, the beatings, the rapes, the spankings and the forced sodomy.
We’d finished two bottles of wine and were working on a third. I was feeling maudlin and depressed, remembering my nightmare. There were tears in my eyes when Lydia came to sit beside me. She smoothed my hair back and kissed my cheek saying, “My poor baby.” They she hugged snuggling my face against her breast, rubbing my back, talking softly. I burrowed into her bosom like a child seeking solace and comfort. She held me for over half an hour. It felt so nice, she was soft and warm, warming my face and my heart. As an unworldly nineteen year old, I had no idea that I was being seduced.
Suddenly, Robin began to cry. He was awake and he was hungry. I went into the guest room where he’d been sleeping. He was kicking and wailing. I picked him up, rocked him in my arms then changed him. I sat on the bed, opened my blouse and released my breasts, feeding him. He suckled on one then I changed him to the other. Lydia had come in and was sitting on the bed beside me. After Robin had finished feeding I burped him. He was already asleep again. Lydia took him from me and put him back on his pallet.
I was starting to cover myself when Lydia sat beside me again. She said, “Charlotte, you have beautiful breasts, so full, so life giving. May I touch them?”
I was a little taken aback by her request but Lydia had been so nice to me and I was mellow from the wine. Breathlessly I said, “Yes.”
Lydia pulled my dress down from my shoulders and unfastened my bra taking it off me and laying it on the bed beside her.
Her voice was raspy, low in her throat as she breathed, “Beautiful.”
She massaged my breasts then tweaked and twisted my nipples gently, repeating again, “Charlotte baby, you’re beautiful.”
I started to react to her ministrations, my nipples hardening, standing out stiffly, my tummy fluttering. She laid me back on the bed, I didn’t resist, then looking down on my face she smiled and asked if she could taste me, taste my milk. I could only nod yes.
She took my nipple between her lips and suckled me and my milk flooded into her mouth.
“You’re not only beautiful Charlotte, you’re delicious,” she whispered to me as she took the other nipple.
I was confused, I’d never thought about making love to another woman but she was so gentle and caring to me.
It felt wonderful and my body was reacting to Lydia’s attention, my tummy quivered as an orgasm flowed through me, I arched my hips and moaned as I soaked my panties.
Lydia left my breasts and hugged me to her then she kissed me; not a chaste kiss from a friend but the kiss of a lover. She whispered in my ear, “That felt good, didn’t it.”
I didn’t answer, I just hugged her tighter. It felt so good; I felt that I was being loved for really the first time in my life. Her hand slid under my skirt, cupping and caressing my labia through my panties.
“Oh baby, you’re soaked. Let me help you,” she said as she rolled my panties down over my hips and tugged them off, dropping them to the floor.
Her finger slid along my slit, I was moist and well lubricated and I was still adding to the wetness, I was still flowing when she started tickling and teasing my clit.
I had my skirt bunched around my waist but my brassiere, blouse and panties were gone. Lydia moved her head down my body, kissing my earlobes, nuzzling over my breasts and licking my tummy. Another small orgasm rippled through me and then Lydia’s mouth was on me, licking me. She probed my vagina, her hot, searing tongue tasting my insides. I was trembling and my tummy was doing flip flops, when she moved her mouth upward, licking my clit then taking it between her lips, sucking, sucking, and sucking all of the juices out of me. I arched my hips and screamed, climaxing harder than I thought possible. Lydia stroked my body, my sides and my belly until I’d relaxed. I felt drained, wrung out but I felt fantastic.
Without a word, Lydia helped me to my feet and removed my skirt then led me to her bedroom. She stripped and lay me down, coming down beside me and guiding my hand to her breast. I fondled her clumsily, I’d never been with a woman, never felt any breasts but my own. She pulled me close, turning me onto my side directing me, filling my mouth with her nipple. As she stiffened, I sucked her. After a while she gave me the other. Soon I felt a gentle pressure on my shoulders as Lydia forced me down her torso to her tummy. I licked and kissed her taut belly, absently playing in the dark hair that covered her mound.
Lydia rolled onto her back, pulling me on top of her. I continued to kiss her tummy but she pushed me lower and lower still. She lifted her legs; their weight on my shoulders forcing me down. I took in the pungent aroma of a woman in arousal, her lips were parted and I could see the rosy redness of her slit. For the first time in my life I tasted another woman.
I paused, I didn’t know whether I could do this but Lydia pressed on the back of my head, holding me against her. I licked.
Lydia didn’t take long; I could taste the moisture, her redolent and salty fluid leaking from her then, with a gasp she gushed.
“Thank you Charlotte, thank you,” Lydia whispered to me as she pulled me up to lie beside her. She kissed me, tasting herself on my tongue, rolled me onto my side and spooned with me. I went to sleep in her arms.
I didn’t make it home; I slept through the night except for feeding my baby. I slept like a baby, cradled in Lydia’s arms.
As I came awake the next morning the previous night came back to me like a dream; I hadn’t really done those things and had those things done to me, had I? But it was no dream; Lydia slept at my side.
I didn’t know what to feel, I was conflicted. I never imagined that I’d have sex with another woman but, it was the nicest sex I’d ever had, not that I had much to compare it to, Howard had been my only.
Lydia blinked awake, pulled me over to her and kissed me.
“Good morning beautiful,” she said.
Then she got up and went into the bathroom. She left the door open and I could see her in the mirror. Her legs were splayed open. I’d heard myself of course, but I’d never listened to another woman peeing. Her flow was long and strong. As I watched she wiped, got up, washed her hands then took something from her medicine chest.
It was a toothbrush, still in its wrapping. She said, “Why don’t you shower and freshen up, I’ll get you some of my clothes, maybe a pair of shorts some panties and a tee shirt. I’d give you a bra but it wouldn’t contain those beauties, then I’ll wash your clothes. I went into the bathroom and she laid an outfit out for me at the foot of the bed. She picked up my clothes from the other room and started the washer.
We had a light breakfast, tea, a fruit cup and a Danish pastry that we split.
We spent the day with Lydia, talking. She was a man-hater, wanted nothing to do with men. Could put up with when they were young but once they reached puberty she had no use for them. I could understand how she felt. I pretty much felt the same way.
In the afternoon I left to go home. Lydia asked me to come back later. She said we could share dinner and talk some more. I said yes, I’d be back by seven.
Lydia served baked fish on a bed of couscous and a Moroccan salad. We had fruit and cheese for dessert. The wine was a crisp dry Chardonnay and we had two bottles.
I’d packed a small overnight bag, some things for Robin and a change for me, Lydia took the bag into her bedroom.
After I’d changed and fed Robin Lydia and I took our wine into the living room. She put on some music, turned it low and sat beside me. I lay over against her, my head on her breast while we talked. She wanted to know my plans. I told her that I’d like to get a job and take evening and correspondence courses at the community college but it would be tough with Robin, so probably just a job, she knew I didn’t plan to do anything for three months. I wanted to breast feed that long then I’d wean Robin to the bottle so I could put him in day care.
“Baby, I think you’ve got a pretty level head, you have some plans. Can I help you with them?”
I looked up at her, saying nothing.
She continued, “I’ve got plenty of room here. Why don’t you move in, rent free but after you’re working you can buy the groceries. I can fix the guest room up as a nursery. After Robin’s weaned I can take him to the center with me. We’ve got good child care and it would be free. You could get a job and take classes.”
I brought our things over the next day. Lydia already had a crib set up for Robin.
I shared a bed with Lydia and we loved each other lasciviously, lavishly.
I’d been with her for two weeks and we were in bed when she said, “Charlotte, I’ve got a confession to make. I still have a desire, an itch, no, really a need to be filled; filled more that loving lips and a hot tongue can accomplish. I like my pussy filled and stretched and once in a while my bottom but there’s no way I’ll be with a man. Charlotte, would you do that for me.”
Her confession was in a low quivery voice like she was embarrassed and ashamed by her weakness; this man hater liked to fuck.
Quizzically I asked, “What can I do Lydia, I don’t have a cock?”
In a little girl’s whisper she confessed, “But I do, will you help me?”
“Lydia, I’ll help you anyway I can.”
She got up and opened a bottom drawer on her dresser coming out with some kind of apparatus and a tube of KY jelly. I looked at what she was holding; it looked like a flesh toned phallus mounted on a belt. I’d never seen anything like it.
“Get up and come here,” she said. I did as she asked.
She fitted part of it between my legs then belted it just above my hips, a cock was jutting out long and proud, just where it would have been were I a man.
Lydia went to her knees, laughing at herself as she said, “I know a man-hating fuck puppy cock sucker,” as she took the faux phallus between her lips.
I just stood and stared in awe.
After several minutes Lydia stood up, slathered KY on the rubber cock, took my hand and led me to the bed. She lay down and lifted her knees saying, “Take me, I’m yours.”
I crawled in after her. Her pussy lips were spread and her slit was glistening and moist. She was already lubricating.
Clumsily I directed the dildo to her opening, I’d never been on the giving side before, but I got it lined up and pushed into her. Lydia moaned as I slid in. When she had taken all I could give I started to pump in and out.
Lydia grabbed the backs of her thighs and pulled her knees to her chest, intoning; nearly a chant, “Oh yeah, fuck me baby, pound my pussy, fuck me hard,” over and over again as though it was a mantra and maybe it was hers.
I continued to probe her for over thirty minutes, I was wet, too by the time she arched and screamed, “Oh God I’m cumming I’m cumming.”
I stayed in her ‘til she’d recovered, unlike a real cock the plastic replacement didn’t go down so I just gently stroked in and out slowly as her breathing steadied.
“Some man-hater, huh, promise you won’t ever tell what I like. It would shatter my image; I really do hate men though, even if I do like to fuck.”
“I’ll never tell,” I said, “It’ll be our secret.”
I took off the belt and Lydia gave me the best tongue job ever. I was wasted when we went to sleep entangled in each other’s arms and legs.
Lydia seemed to love Robin; she’d stand at his crib and coochy coo, tickling him under the chin and on the soles of his little feet. One day I was standing beside her as she played with him; she said God he’s beautiful, he’d make a darling little girl.
She was right; Robin had a beautiful face, dark eyes and coal black hair. His cheek bones were high, hinting at some Native American influence in his blood line. He would be a beautiful little girl.
The next evening Lydia came with a shopping bag in the hand. She took in into the nursery and I followed. She dumped it on the bed, frilly dresses and lacy panties. “I want to play dolly with him, make him frilly and pretty. Charlotte, will you play dolly with me?”
I’d fallen under Lydia’s thrall, like her I hated men and didn’t want to be affected by them. “Sure, why not,” I said, “We’ll dress him when he wakes up.”
“He’s going to be our little girl baby, let’s call him she from now on,” Lydia said.
I nodded, yes. It was a decision that I’d learn to live with and, eventually, to regret.
When “she” awakened I let her nurse then Lydia and I put her in a little dress.
After Robin had fallen asleep, we had a light supper. Lydia seemed anxious about something as she led me to the bedroom. She undressed my and lay me on the bed before making love to me. I wanted to taste her but she held me off saying, “Later.”
She snugged me under the covers then she went to the bathroom. Oddly, she shut the door, neither of usually did unless we were going to have a bowl movement.
Odder still, when she came out she was covered with a robe. She climbed onto the bed and parted my legs, positioning herself inside my thighs and lifting my legs onto her shoulders.
I couldn’t see what she was doing. She reached down below my line of sight then I felt something sliding along my slit and opening my vagina. I saw that her robe was open now, she was nude under it.
‘Charlotte, I not only like to be fucked, I like to fuck,” she said as she pushed forward, the strap-on dildo sliding into me. She filled me but it wasn’t painful like when Howard attacked me, still I was in shock, Lydia had never told me she wanted to fuck me, to get deep into my pussy.
As she stroked me gently, she reached into my open body and played with my clit. In spite of my shock I began to react. She started pumping me harder, thrusting into me deeper. She kept the attention on my clitoris. In spite of my shock and surprise, my body started to respond, I bucked my hips up to meet her thrusts urging her to pound into me, to fuck me harder; then with a shudder, I climaxed. Lydia slowly continued to stroke into me as my breathing became normal and I recovered.
She pulled out of me, the artificial cock dangling lewdly from her crotch before asking, “You liked?”
I was honest, “Yes, Lydia, I liked.”
“Well, I liked giving it to you.”
She unstrapped and climbed into bed with me.
Strap-on sex became a regular part of our play. She liked it two or three times a week and she’d do me once or twice.
She really did pay a lot of attention to Robin, she loved playing with her (yes, we were now both calling Robin her), dressing her up and taking her out in the baby buggy for long walks.
It was a Sunday night several weeks later, we’d taken Robin for a ride, she loved to ride in the car, had come home and fed her and put her down for the night when Lydia took me to the bedroom.
“Charlotte, I want you to do something special for me tonight, will you?”
“I don’t know what it is but you know I’d do most anything for you, what can I do?”
“I don’t want you to get mad at me or think bad of me,”
“Lydia, I love you, yes sometimes I get mad at you but I’ll never think badly of you, I want to help if I can.”
“Oh, you can, I know that, it’s not if you can but if you will.”
“Lydia, what is it?”
“I want you to fuck me tonight.”
“Of course, I like doing that with you, why so secretive, we’ve been doing that for weeks.”
“Baby, I want it a little different tonight.”
“What do you mean different,” I asked.
Charlotte baby, I want you to fuck my ass,” she was finally able to get out.
“Are you crazy,” I asked, “I’ll hurt you.”
“You probably will but, another confession about Lydia, I like a little pain, will you do it.”
‘Lydia, I don’t want to but if that’s what you want, I will,” I said as I led her into the bedroom.
Wait for me here I said then I went into the bathroom.
When I came out, Lydia was waiting, standing where I’d left her. I was nude except for the strap-on; I’d bought my own, it was purple plastic. I had the tube of lube in my hand.
Lydia hadn’t seen it before, with a nervous chuckle she said, “A purple dick, huh, I guess I’m going to be sodomized by a Martian.
Saying, I guess you are,” I kissed her and undressed her then led her to the chair we had in our room. I remembered how Howard had loved to bend me over the chair arm. I leaned her forward and pushed her down.
“Why this way,” she asked. I was already working the lubricant into her.
“Because this is how I want you,” I said.
I slathered lube on the fake cock, held her cheeks apart and guided it to her lube glistening rosebud then I pushed into her. As the cock invaded her, prizing open her tight ring Lydia moaned. I pushed deeper and deeper into her dark, dank depths. Her moans grew louder as I got deeper, until my pubic hair brushed against her bottom. Then I started stroking her.
Lydia’s moan turned to a wail as I hit bottom, she’d buried her face in the seat of the chair and I could hear her sob.
She said she liked pain; I was going to give her a little pain. I thrust harder, stroking back until I was almost out then forcing the phallus back into her as far as it would go. Lydia would grunt each time it was plunged into her. I almost enjoyed listening to her.
I’m lying; I did enjoy hearing her grunts, moans and sobs as I pounded her.
After about fifteen minutes of unrelenting pounding, unbelievably, Lydia climaxed, slamming her bottom back against me.
I stroked her hips and rubbed her back ‘til she was breathing normally again. I was still filling her, I pulled out.
She stood up and turned to me, grabbing me and hugging saying, “Oh my Charlotte that was the best ever, the very best. I want to you, can I?”
I think it was the only time I ever said it to her, I said, “No,” and I never relented.
Her anal exercise became part of our ritual, every Sunday night, usually over the chair arm.
Finally I weaned Robin and started looking for work. I found a clerical position, started work and enrolled in some classes. Lydia, good for her word took Robin to day care at the Center every day.
When Robin was two he got a stomach ache, he was irritable, crying and squirming, Lydia got a baby rectal thermometer and inserted it. Robin had a slight fever but the glass tube came out smeared with fecal matter. ‘Oh Lord, this girl is constipated,” Lydia said. You hold her and I’ll run down to the drug store and get a baby enema.
When she got back she rinsed it and filled it with a very mild soap and warm water solution. She administered it, she didn’t call it an enema, she said, “Our little girl gets her first douche.”
It worked, Robin filled her diaper then Lydia gave her clear warm water to wash out the soap.
Another ritual was started, every Saturday evening Robin got douched. It continued for years.
Five years later, when it was time for Robin to start school, Lydia and I had an argument, a serious argument. We’d never cut Robin’s hair, it was long and we curled it, he still looked like the cutest little girl.
Lydia said it was time we put our little girl doll away, we needed to get his hair cut and buy some boy’s clothes, we couldn’t send him to school dressed like a little girl.
“Her, damnit Lydia,” I snapped. Thus started our first and last violent argument; by the time it was over I’d moved out.
I’d gotten my Bachelors Degree and was well on my way to my Masters and had a good job.
I was the assistant director of another shelter and was earning pretty good money. There was an older lady that taught some classes for our younger charges. She was a retired teacher. We’d become friendly and like me, she was anti-male. I thought my life style, the way I was raising Robin would not be offensive to her. I knew she lived in a small furnished apartment in a less than up-scale part of town, I had visited her there.
I proposed buying a home and providing her a room free of charge, additionally, I’d cover all of the living costs, food, utilities and so forth if she would tutor Robin, I wanted her home schooled. Her name was Helen Thomas and she agreed.
I found a small three bedroom home with two baths. It was a little further out than I would have really liked but San Francisco real estate is so frightfully expensive; it was the best that I felt I could afford. We all moved in.
Robin proved to be an exceptionally bright child; she was soon performing far in advance of school students her age. Along with her class work we took her on field trips; to the zoo, museums, art galleries, even to plays and to the opera. Her education was far superior to anything offered in the public schools.
I continued to dress her in fancy dresses, her toys were dolls and girly things, her books were by female authors. No violence against women allowed. She also still got her douche every Saturday night.
Things went along well for seven years or so, Helen was getting up in years but we’d talked. She wanted to stay until Robin graduated high school then she thought she’d move to an assisted living facility, females only, of course. I’d agreed.
Robin was thirteen now and getting a little rebellious like teenagers do. It was Saturday evening and Helen had gone to dinner with friends. It would be late before she got in.
I’d just douched Robin and dressed her in her frilly nightie. I was tucking her into bed when I noticed there was something under her pillow. I pulled it out and was appalled, it was a Hustler magazine, not Playboy, no, hard core, Hustler. I screamed, “What is this, where did you get this?”
Robin cringed, she hadn’t been disciplined often but she had been spanked several times and she was going to get another tonight.
I pulled her across my knee and lifted her nightie; she had on a pair of lacy panties. I jerked them down to her knees and smacked her bottom hard, about twenty whacks. She was crying and pleading, “No more Mommy, please, Mommy, no more.”
She always called me Mommy, I insisted on it, no slangy Mom, it was always Mommy.
I pulled her panties back up and sat her on the bed. “Where did this filthy rag come from,” I demanded, “Where did you get this?”
“I found it Mommy,” was her tremulous reply. She was still sobbing softly.
“And you brought this filth into our home, you thought that was ok?”
“Mommy, I looked at the pictures, you call me your little girl but I don’t look like that, Mommy, I’m not a girl. I’m a boy.
I slapped her face, screaming, “You’re my little girl, don’t argue with me.”
“Mommy, I really am a boy,” Robin argued.
My ire was up, my temper boiling at a near lethal level.
“Boys fuck little girls, the rape them and hurt them. Do you know what that’s like, damn it, do you, do you?” I screamed; I was losing control.
“Mommy, I wouldn’t do that to little girls, I wouldn’t.”
Totally enraged I screamed, “If you were a boy you would.”
I snapped, losing it.
“God damn it, you’re going to learn what its like get out of your nightie and wait for me.”
I hadn’t taken another lover after Lydia and I had split up but I’d kept my toys. I still had my purple strap-on. I belted it in place, donned a robe to conceal it and grabbed the lube. That unruly child of mine was going to find out what it was to be a girl.
Robin was sitting on the side of the bed. She still had her panties on. I pushed her over, down on her back and pulled them off then jerked her to the side of the bed; her hips poised on the edge her legs hanging over the edge. I pushed her knees up to her chest and told her to hold them there, crushed back against her chest. I pulled her hips to the edge of the bed and squirted lubricant onto her anus, sticking a finger into her, working it deeper.
Robin was crying, “Mommy what are you doing,” she thought she was going to get another enema. I worked a second finger in, stretching her, God she was a tight little thing. Then I lubed the dildo and rested it against her before I answered her.
“What am I doing, I’m showing you what nasty boys to naughty girls and you’ve been a naughty girl.”
I pressed into her. When I penetrated her virgin sphincter, Robin screamed.
He wailed, “No Mommy, no, don’t do this to me, don’t hurt me.”
I’d calmed a little, at least I was no longer screaming when I said, “Robin this is what nasty, dirty boys do to girls.” I pushed deeper.
Robin just sobbed pitifully. But I took no pity, I continued to rhythmically pump her, going deeper.
Slowly, Robin quieted; her eyes were huge when she said, “Mommy, what’s happening? What are you doing?”
I watched as her little penis stiffened, I didn’t know enough about male anatomy to realize what the prostrate gland was. The dildo was stimulating it.
Robin was moving back into me, meeting my thrusts. I noticed moisture leaking from her penis then he arched his hips and moaned, oh, oh, oooh as she reached her first orgasm. She spewed spurt after spurt of ropy cum, getting it in my pubic hair and covering her stomach.
Backing away, I pulled out of her and stood in awe. I’d never seen a boy or a man ejaculate, I’d felt it but never seen it, it looked like a spewing fountain.
“Robin just looked at me then said, “Wow Mommy what did you do?”
“Just get cleaned up and get back in bed,” I said as I walked from her room.
I poured myself a glass of wine, sat and thought, that sure hadn’t turned out like I thought it would, she’d liked it, really liked it.
Our Saturday night ritual continued but something strange happened with Robin, she started telling on herself, little misdeeds that were always something carrying a sexual connotation.
I’d lecture her about her purported wrong doing but she persisted. It finally dawned on me; she wanted to be “punished” again.
I had to think long and hard on that but finally decided, now that she knew what orgasmic release was she’d get it somewhere, I supposed better from me than on the streets.
She always timed her confessions when Helen was out. No dummy, she knew I’d never do anything with Helen there.
After the next confession I said, “That’s enough, go to your room and get undressed then come to my room and I want you naked.”
I got my things, snugged the purple pussy eater around my hips and waited for her.
When she came in she had nothing on, I led her to the chair and pushed her over the arm.
“What are you going to do Mommy?”
I’m going to discipline you,” I answered.
Then I spread her cheeks and greased her.
She moaned when I pushed into her but as I started stroking, she pushed back to meet me, forcing me even deeper. She started riding the chair arm moaning then her sphincter tightened around my dildo. I heard her, moan, “Ugh, ugh, ugh as she pumped her spunk onto the upholstery.
A lesson learned, next time I’d be sure there was a towel under her.
It became a frequent occurrence, her confessions leading up to her punishment. I even started to look forward to it, the strap that held my Martian cock in place ran between my legs, when I pumped Robin it would ride up and down my slit, stimulating my clit. I’d get an orgasm while I gave Robin hers.
Every good thing must come to an end and at last, Robin graduated high school. Although she was home schooled, her grades were monitored through the local school district. Her final GPA was a 4.4 on a 4.0 scale; she’d gained extra points for carrying difficult subjects.
She had her choice of colleges; she chose one of the campuses of the University of California about 100 miles away. Far enough so she had to live on campus, close enough that she could get home easily.
We sat down and talked. Robin had been registered in high school as a boy and would be attending college as a boy. I bought male clothing for him and took him to have his hair cut. Then I bought him a small car. At the end of summer I sent him off, I wanted to accompany him but he insisted on going alone.
Helen did move into an assisted living facility and seemed happy. I visited her once a week and we talked on the phone most days. She told me to give Robin her love.
He came home over the Thanksgiving Holiday; I treated him like my little girl, giving her a douche and a reaming for all of her transgressions. She’d be back over the Christmas break; I’d have two weeks with her.
When she got home I thought everything would go on as before, boy was in for a shock.
He walked in, gave me a big hug and a kiss saying, “I love you Mom.”
I stepped back and said, “Mom? I’m Mommy.”
“Nope, you’re Mom now; I’m too old to be calling you Mommy