Julia, Ben and Lisa Ch. 04

Nis 30, 2024 // By:analsex // No Comment

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A few quick notes:

1. this is the fourth chapter of a longish story, a novel in many chapters

2. everyone is 18+

3. there is no safe sex here – cause it’s a fantasy, not an instruction manual

4. crossdressing and gender bending, not everyone’s cuppa tea – be forewarned

Julia said, “Yeah, for a minute there I thought she would think we were fucking.”

“Oh my God. That’s all we need.”

“Yeah, your undies on display there on the chair, just the way they would have been if we …”

“I know. Damn.” I mean the thought definitely turned me on, made me picture myself as a stud again. But it would have been a nine-headed baby disaster.

“Yeah. But you know Mom – she got over it. I think. She really is so pure. Thought you were in there vomiting or something. She went up and disinfected my bathroom after dinner last night.” She giggled. “After you left — and, by the way, very smooth, very, very smooth!” she rolled her eyes, “I got her into the suits. I had calmed down and she modeled two of them. So nice, a 2-piece and a 1-piece. I could tell they were expensive and they were really sexy too. She looked fantastic! Her new boobs and tummy are perfect. The 3rd one she said was ‘just for Daddy’ which I thought was soooo sweet.” Which got Julia giggling again.

It was the day after our near miss with Aunt Beth. We were up in Julia’s room again, preparing for another day of practice. This time we agreed that I would leave by 3 p.m. to avoid any possibility of her finding us again.

Julia had to use the ruler on me twice. I settled down and we flew through the tuck and panties. Julia noticed my purple bruise and covered it with some body-makeup. It wasn’t a great match on skin tone, she being lighter complected than me, but it looked OK. Then she remembered something and went in the bathroom, emerging with an electric razor to trim the tiny hairs on my big toes — which no one would ever have noticed anyway. She practiced me walking for a good half hour before she would take out the bra, socks and the dress. She dressed me and we walked some more. We paid a lot of attention to my hands, arms and posture till she thought it was pretty good. I was beginning to think I almost understood how the hips and ass coordinate into a cute, non-slutty wiggle.

She had me practice sitting. Who knew sitting was a skill? How to sit down gracefully, to smooth the skirt, how to turn my lower body and keep my knees together so sketchy guys wouldn’t look up my skirt, how to position my feet and to sit forward in the chair, my posture in the chair and how to rise gracefully.

We did similar things with me kneeling in the skirt (blush!), how to get down and get back up gracefully and how to be careful not to wrinkle or catch the dress under my knees.

This all lasted the entire morning, and believe it or not, she and I were having a ball the whole time. I mean she was strict with me. Coach had to be. For my own good. But as I went through repetition after repetition we found time to talk just like we always had. We had a distant cousin with tonsillitis. Julia knew a girl at college with Hep-C, which she never should have let her roommate know about. The Lakers were losing again. Bobo was trying some new kind of worm-pill. She’d received an A in her freshman French class, plus an A-minus, two B-pluses and a B. Mine were all A’s except for a B- in Calculus. Republicans are idiots. Her best friend Amanda was heading to Spain. They’re so stupid. She thinks Spanish men are uber-sexy. And did she, Amanda, look a little like Mila Kunis, her face she meant? Maybe. That sort of thing.

I knew it was weird to be discussing grades and Republicans while learning to get from my knees to a standing position without ruining the tuck. But there it was.

Suddenly it changed to sex talk. She must have been thinking about those bathing suits her Mom bought. Julia said, “Weird to think of my parents fucking down there, down in the Bahamas.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

“But I guess it’s even weirder when they fuck here. Keep those knees together!”

“Yeah, same here. You hear them?” I rose from the chair and brushed down the skirt around the backs of my thighs as I’d been instructed. Everything nice and smooth. I walked the room and then back to sit on the same chair that had held my things the day before.

“Not really… Posture!…sometimes I think they are, but I’m never sure. I think Mom would like to …you know she can get a little wild with a few drinks in her …good boy!…but Daddy’s too much of a stick-in-the-mud …good girl!… to really let loose. I can’t imagine him fucking at all! And yet! Here I am!” Her smile lit up. Then, “Good. Up-down-up-down. Good. They’re quiet whenever they do it.”

“My Mom gets noisy sometimes.”

“Aunt Jane is a sweetie. You think your Dad’s going down on her?”

“Oh fuck! Don’t ask me that. I don’t like to picture it.”

Julia giggled at the thought. “Or that she sucks his dick?”

“Oh, fuck! Please…” I could feel my balls stirring down there.

Julia went on, “Cause I know Aunt Jane is a good woman who would never Anadolu Yakası Grup Escort leave old Ed hanging when he needed his dick sucked.”

“JULIA!” She looked from my legs up to my face, startled by my voice. Honestly I didn’t know whether I would be sick or get a hard-on from the sex talk, but it needed to stop. She could see my distress.

“Oh my God! My poor baby. I’m so sorry. I’ll stop.” Her face was flushed and she adopted an apologetic grin. She walked to me and smoothed the material at my hips, whispering “Sorry!” Then she went right back to work. “But now do it again. Better.”

I took the opportunity to ask something I’d been wondering about, from her story the day before. On my knees, the skirt flared on the floor around me, I asked, “So the Andersons. I mean if you don’t mind a question.”

She looked at me skeptically. “We’re not starting this again.”

“No, no. Just one question I swear. Cause I don’t understand.”

“You’re not going back on your deal, are you? Cause I told you absolutely everything.”

“No. It’s not that. I’m working hard at this, aren’t I?”

Julia sighed. “All right. One. Go for it dweeb. And don’t let your tits get out of whack like that!”

“It’s not my fault,” I whined.

Julia came over, cupped my breasts and put them back to even.

“So…so the question is: Why did they come home so early? I mean they caught you cause they came home too early, right?”

Julia laughed like a hyena at this. “That’s it? That’s the one question? You really are a dweeb.”

“I just…am trying to put together the whole story, and that’s, you know, a missing part.”

“But why do you care?”

“No, but like, did some nosy neighbors call because they saw your boyfriend come over? Or maybe Mr. Anderson got sick or something? Or…”

“Nah, it wasn’t…” she began.

“Or what if he…you know, Mr. Anderson,…somehow planned it? Like he planned it to catch you? I’m just wondering.”

Julia’s head snapped back and she gave me a strange, wondering look. Her eyes narrowed and she said simply “No. It wasn’t that.” As if it made her sad somehow.

“Then what?”

“Ok. OK! She turned her ankle. They were dancing right after he got his dickwad trophy or whatever the fuck it was. She thought she needed to go to the ER but changed her mind when they were in the car. So Mr. and Mrs. Cocksucker came home instead.”

I was taken aback by her harshness. Mr. and Mrs. C-sucker? Now she looked really angry. But I couldn’t stop myself, I blundered on, intrigued.

“And how? I mean how do you know this?”

“I…well he…he told me afterwards.”

“You spoke to him? Like the phone or in person?”

Now she was even more angry. “Hey! What happened to one question?”

“No, but…”

“Well, it was just a text if you must know.” All of a sudden her face went bright red. “A fucking text, got it? And that’s all I’m saying. Cause you’re pissing me off big time now.”

“Julia. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to…you know…I wasn’t trying to get you pissed at me.”

Her face had turned red. “Well, you’re doing it whether you were trying or not…” sort of spitting out the words now, her dial up to eleven. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. Getting me to talk about him. That really sucks.” She paused, glared, looked away. “And know what? You suck too.”

Now she was marching around the room. Folding some clothes out of a laundry basket that was on her bed. She slammed some clothes in a drawer. She was glaring at the clothes as though they pissed her off too, avoiding me, the way you do when you’re too angry to even look at the other person.

What had I done? I was shocked. How had this escalated so fast? Why had she called him a cocksucker? Why did this piss her off so much? And why take it out on me?

But I did feel bad about it. Right away. She was right that I had played a little game. The game of finding out whether Mr. Anderson had been a real wolf or a fake wolf. Starting with: had he been in contact with Julia after the big event? Cause if he, or even Mrs. Anderson, had not been in touch afterwards, then there’d be no way for Julia to know why they had come home early. I was digging to see if there had been any followup sex thing, and even if he, Mr. A., was now doing or had done Julia himself. Whether they had played out the fantasy I’d jerked off to the night before And now she knew it.

But why such anger? She was boiling as I tried the walk again. We let a minute pass. I felt a little sick.

“Get that dress off. We’re going downstairs. I don’t know about this afternoon but I don’t want a little princess at the breakfast table. So get in your own things.”

She paused to glare. “Besides, your walk sucks today. We’re getting nowhere.” With that she stormed out of the room and downstairs.

When I got to the kitchen she was nowhere to be found. I looked around but had already guessed. So I looked in the driveway. The old Toyota Corolla was gone. Bobo was gone too.


I guess I was worried but not worried, Anadolu Yakası Manken Escort and mostly confused later that night alone in my room. What exactly had set her off so badly? What I’d done had been a little sneaky, a little pervy I guess, but still didn’t seem that horrible to me.

I texted her cautiously around 6 p.m., “Julia?” and then again at 7:30, “Julia, SORRY!” I got no response.

I could only remember one other time she’d been this mad at me. We must have been about 12 or 13 when there was a big family cookout in my back yard. All of us cousins had our own table and were eating burgers, hot dogs and corn-on-the-cob together with soft drinks. I had the yellow mustard right in front of me and suddenly thought it would be fun to squirt it at Joey, Julia’s little 8 year old cousin on her Dad’s side. He and I had been goofing around all day playing tricks on one another, chasing each other, dunking each other in the pool and generally being boys. This one might be the piece-de-resistance. So I picked up the mustard and squeezed hard at him across the table. Got him too. At least with some of the mustard.

Mostly I missed and hit Julia, who was sitting beside Joey. I got Joey just in the shoulder, but I got Julia all down the front of her pretty new dress. She and her Mom had been showing her off to the adults all morning long. Us boys didn’t care about it, but she was pretty proud of the way she looked in that dress. And now it was ruined.

Julia wouldn’t speak to me for two weeks afterwards, even though my Mom and Dad replaced the dress. I was so lonely without her. Even at that age I knew how much I loved and needed her. Lonely, and guilty. At that age you feel like you’ve lost everything forever. I was miserable.

Then she called me out of the blue: “Hey, dweebmeister, my Mom is taking me bowling. We can pick you up.” Forty-five minutes later we were hugging and kissing and making up once we started laughing at her Mom, who was setting the world, indoor record for consecutive gutter balls. Once we broke the ice, we went back to best friends, stronger I thought than ever.

I knew Julia. She could be hot-headed. But I knew she loved me, just like I loved her. She wouldn’t hold the grudge forever.

I was counting on a lot sooner than forever. We’d already lost our afternoon session of makeup, first lipstick, first blush, etc. My breast forms were due to arrive the next day, a Friday. The two days after were out since her parents would be around for the weekend. They were leaving on Tuesday, but not till the afternoon, which mostly ruled out that day. And apparently Aunt Beth had been making noise about taking Monday off to get her packing done.

We were potentially dead for the next five days; I didn’t think I could handle it. We had 14 days to ourselves after that. But what if in the meantime she gave up? What if I gave up? What if she stayed mad at me for weeks? What if she threw out my new panties and skirts and tops? What if she returned the bras and tits? Then it would be over.

I was scared, but by 9 that night I knew I had to try to reach out to her, to try again.

I texted her: “I’m really sorry about today.” I knew not to say more, not to dilute the message with pleading or begging or explanations.

It took her an agonizing 25 minutes to respond: “I’m sorry too.”

Ah! Good! I knew not to dive deep too fast, and texted: “Can we talk? Can I call?”

Julia: No. Finishing a movie with Mom and Dad, have to.

Me: OK.

Julia: Original Godfather, pretty cool.

Me: Yeah.

Julia: Someday, and that day may never come, I will call upon you to do a service for me.

Me: Huh?

Julia: I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse.

Me: OK. What’s it mean?

Her: Sorry.

Me: I just want you to know that I really am sorry. I was a jerk.

It took five minutes, then:

Julia: I think I was an even bigger jerk.

Me: No. My fault.

I waited two minutes.

Me: Are we on for tomorrow?

Julia: Hope so. Your tits are arriving. (A loving heart emoji)

Me: Yeah. You’re not sure? Tomorrow?

Her: No. I’m sure. Make it 9:30.

Me: Thank you. (the same heart emoji)

Her: Tits. Makeup. Dress. A big day.

Me: (3 loving hearts)

Her: We can’t go the 4 days after. Mom or both are here.

Me: I know. (Sad face)

I wasn’t sure what else to say. Finally:

Me: I was thinking of the mustard incident. (Sad face)

Julia: Me 2! (Laughing and clapping)

Me: Sorry I’m such a jerk sometimes.

There was a long pause, like 15 minutes. I needed her to go next.

Julia: Sorry. Was fixing snacks with Mom in kitchen.

Me: Aaah.

Her: You’re not a jerk. It was me.

Me: Well, never mind. I love you Julia.

Her: Luv you 2 Ben. (Heart)

Me: Good night kiddo. And thanks. (Triple heart)

There was no response so I figured we were done. A huge weight lifted. I was still a bit nervous but happy to have at least our Friday back on track. And the boobs were coming!

I locked my bedroom door. Anadolu Yakası Masöz Escort Mom and Dad were still prowling around doing Mom and Dad stuff. The panties Julia had given me three nights earlier, the ones she stripped off right in front of me, the ones that still had a trace of her scent, were hidden in a desk drawer. I got them and slid them up my legs. I kept my teeshirt on so I could react in a hurry if needed. Then I practiced my tuck and walk. I was actually starting to like what I saw when I looked in the full length mirror in my room, unless of course I looked right at my unfeminine face (or God forbid right in my eyes).

My phone buzzed again right around 11 o’clock. A text from Julia. I untucked and put on jeans over the panties.

Julia: Can I send you something?

Me: Sure. What is it?

A buzz went through my brain. Was it going to be something sexy? Something sexy of her? Maybe a picture of her in her bra? Or even bra and panties? Maybe more? As a peace offering?

Julia: Just read it.

So no, not sexy. Idiot I am!

Me: OK.

Her: Here it comes, Check your email.

I opened email and waited. It clicked in. It was a Word file called ‘MRA TEXTS.’

Me: Got it.

Her: Just read it tonight. We’ll talk tomorrow.

Her: Not tonight. Exhausted. Going to bed.

Me: Ok. Good night again.

There was no response.

A lot of things Julia does kind of scare me. She’s so brave, so unpredictable, so free. And this one scared me too. I mean, what could it be? Something about me? about cross-dressing? about the new boobs? about how to give a good blowjob? about being queer? about??

Then it hit me. “MRA Texts.” It wasn’t going to be me at all, it was about Mr. Anderson, he was the “MRA”. I knew then that I had started a wildfire with my foolish fantasies about him and Julia, about him wanting her, about him doing her, about him doing us both. Some guy I’d never even seen in person before.

I clicked on the Word icon for the file like it might explode. Here’s what I read:

May 21, 2015: I’m sending this to my cousin Ben. Just in case – JB

This is a history of the texts Mr. George Anderson sent me, and that I’ve sent him, since the night last August 23 (2014) when he and his wife caught me and my boyfriend having sex in their living room. I was their babysitter. I’ve included every one of his texts and my return texts since that night. I am doing so for my own protection since I do not trust him, i.e. he is a HORRIBLE person.

I have added some comments between texts about what I was thinking.

GA = George Anderson

Louise = Mrs. Anderson

JB = me, Julia Bettencourt

James = my boyfriend that night

8/25/2014 9:03 p.m.

GA: Hey Julia. Just letting you know all is fine.

GA: Not gonna tell your parents or anyone – be our litlte secrat. (wink)

GA: Louise agrees. Hope that guy is not abusing u!

GA: Maybe see u around some day – let’s have coffee!

8/28/2014 11:43 a.m.

GA: Hey Julia. Checking to see if u got my texts.

GA: We are supporting u in this!

GA: Just want u to be safe.

GA: Louise agrees. She’s still pissed – should avoyd her for now

GA: She’s not really so bad. But u should avoyd.

GA: Text me back. Maybe we should talk this over?

GA: But no biggie. Stay well!

GA: And good luck in colege. You must begin soon?

09/01/2014 1:25 p.m.

GA: Well looks like you’re not gonna write back.

GA: Wish u would.

GA: We should probly talk one of these days.

09/04/2014 2:15 p.m.

JB: Mr. Anderson. Thank you for your support.

JB: I really do appreciate it.

JB: And Mrs. Anderson.

JB: I’m so sorry for what happened.

JB: I know it was all my fault.

JB: And I am very sorry.

JB: Please accept my apology.

JB: Bye.

09/04/2014 2:29 p.m.

GA: Hey Julia! Good to hear from you.

GA: Of course I acept your apology.

GA: How is colege life treating u?

GA: Is this a good time to call?

JB: No. I don’t think we should be on the phone.

GA: But there are some things we shuld discuss.

JB: You said this was all over. What things?

GA: Well better to do in person or at least phone.

JB: Sorry, no. I don’t think Mrs. A. would appreciate that.

GA: But it’s inocent. Plus she wouldnt kno. (wink)

JB: It’s wrong. I’m not going to.

GA: Not even meet for coffee one day?

JB: No.

GA: Well, OK. If u won’t, u won’t.

JB: Good bye.

GA: I’ll still support u. It will be our secrat. (wink)

GA: If you ever need anything…

GA: And Louise is worried you maybe are getting abuzed.

GA: All right then. Take care of yourself.

GA: If you need me I’m here. (smiley face)

GA: Have a good life. Bye.

09/23 – After the messages on Sept 4 I was freaked out but hoping that that would be the end of things. I’d left all these messages on my phone cause it never occurred to me I should save them somewhere else. Till now that is. (Doesn’t his phone have spell-correct? What’s up with that?)

In late August I started my freshman year at the U, and I was still getting used to the new dorm, my new roommate Alicia, the workload, my classes, etc. It seemed like a pretty horrible time to have to worry about this douchebag texting me and hounding me to meet. As if I didn’t know why he wanted to see me!

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