“Baby, I’m leaving now. I’ll call you later to see how you are doing.” Mrs. McCall snatched her valise from the kitchen chair, then scooped her keys off the table.

"Yeah, okay," came a mumbled reply.

“I should be home around six tonight. Bye, Baby,” the well-dressed businesswoman called upstairs.

Allen lay in bed with the blankets pulled up under his chin and listened to his mommy’s station wagon start and back out of the driveway. Although he was eighteen, his mother continued to call him “Baby” until he threw a major tantrum in public. By agreement, she would only call him “Baby” in private, if he continued to call her “Mommy” in private.

He slipped out of bed and peeked through the window blinds to check and see if his Mother’s Country Squire wagon did drive down the avenue. The teenager pretended to be sick to skip school, and he was sick of school. Summer vacation would start at the end of the month, but he could not wait another day. Allen reached over and clicked the clock radio on. The morning DJs bantered back and forth, then played a couple of outrageous comedy skits.

"How did they get away saying that stuff on the radio?" He wondered.  

He went into the bathroom and took a long, hot shower; using his dad’s razor, he made sure his entire body was smooth and hairless. Once finished, he wrapped a towel around his boyishly thin body and stepped into the hall. Allen opened the door to his parents' room and walked over to his mother’s dresser. He reached into the top drawer and carefully removed a sexy-matched red bra and panty set. He stepped into the red panties and slid them up to his hips, then reached in to tuck his dick and balls between his legs. Allen wrapped the bra around his waist, hooked it together, and then slipped it over his shoulders.  

He moved to the vanity, where he sat down on the bench. Allen reached into one of the vanity’s drawers and pulled out a large, plastic egg. Popping the egg’s seam, he released the pair of black pantyhose that was inside. Slowly, he slid the nylons up his legs and stood up to snug them up around his hips. He stepped into the pair of spiked, red heels he had earlier placed next to the vanity. Carefully, he walked back and forth across his parent's room to gain his balance, and soon he confidently strode in the four-inch heels. Allen returned to the vanity bench, where he repeatedly crossed one leg over the other; the silky hose caressed his skin in sensual pleasure.

Allen watched his mother when she put on her makeup. She sat in her bra, panties, hose, and heels facing her vanity, listening to music, and applying her makeup. When he was young, she winked at him and dabbed his cheeks or nose with blush. When he was older, he asked her many questions when she did something. She looked at his reflection, smiled, then answered. Now he wanted to ask, but didn’t. When she caught him peeking at her from the door, she still smiled back at him but stood and slipped a robe about herself or often pushed him away with a playful spank on his bottom and closed the door. He knew the steps to her makeup routine but only brushed on some mascara and a bit of rose eye shadow.  

He pushed his long mane of wet hair into a hair net he found on the vanity. Allen walked to his mother’s closet and took out one of her wigs. She owned several wigs and would wear them when she and his daddy would go out. He chose the platinum blonde shoulder-length one. When he ducked his head into the wig and flipped it back, Allen was no longer there; Jennifer was.

Jennifer took the brush from her mother’s vanity and quickly styled out her hair. She leaned forward to the mirror and artistically applied red lipstick to her fresh lips. She finished her look with gold hoop earrings and a gold necklace, followed by a dab of Chanel on her wrists. Jennifer stepped back to examine herself in the mirror.

A young woman looked back at her. She admired herself as she posed in front of the mirror; she turned to the left, then the right. She reached out to turn on the radio on her mommy’s vanity and danced to Elton John’s “Mama Can’t Buy You Love.” When the radio station played “Right Back Where We Started From,” Jennifer used the hairbrush as a microphone to lip-sync with Maxine Nightingale. 

Exhausted by her performance, she flopped on her parent's bed and the dress hem flipped up to show her hosed-covered legs. She glanced over to the full-length mirror on the wall to watch her reflection as she tried a seductive pose on the bed. The radio responded by playing “Imaginary Lover”.

Jennifer fantasized she was a married woman, and her husband, a tall, athletic man, walked into the bedroom. She envisioned his hands on her legs; he pushed up her dress farther on her slim body to uncover the top of her pantyhose. Her hands begin to fondle her small nylon and polyester-clad cock and balls. She cooed softly, as she imagined a woman might. Jennifer’s hand slipped under the waistband and gripped her erect shaft with her index finger and thumb. Pre-cum leaked out and covered her finger. Another moan escaped her lips, and she rapidly tugged on her make-believe clit.

She brought her knees to her and reluctantly pulled her hand away. She lifted her hips and pushed down the top of her pantyhose and red panties to her knees. Jennifer licked the pre-cum off her finger and spit some saliva onto her palm to rub her dick. Her body leaped at her fantasy lover’s touch.  

She tossed her head back and huskily shouted, “Oh, Darling!”  

She wet her finger and thumb again and continued to play with herself. She pumped her swollen tranny clit, while her left hand squeezed and twisted her nipples through her dress and bra. Not only that, but she arched her back and tried to touch him with her body.

She imagined her lover saying, "I want you, Jennifer".

She gasped at the sound of her name and cupped her marble-sized balls. Her fingers pumped faster. She pushed her legs together, then flung them apart; her hips bucked uncontrollably, and it happened.  

She pushed up with her legs with a grunt, and a stream of cum erupted from her dick to hit her in the face. She continued to pump furiously and cried out with each stroke while more streams shot out to land on her red dress. Jennifer dropped to the bed; her flat chest heaved. She felt exhausted. After a few moments, her wits returned, and she tasted the salty cum that struck her lips. She licked her lips, then remembered to wipe the rest from her face and suck it off her fingers. She lifted her dress and ate the globs of cum directly off the material.

Weakly, she rolled off the bed and found her dress was covered with stains from her spunk. She pulled the dress over her head and then pulled up her panties, followed by her pantyhose. She scooped up the dress and made her way downstairs to the kitchen.

Without a thought, she opened the door to the garage and walked over to the washer, where she dumped the soiled dress. She added detergent, started the washer, and turned to find the garage door open.  Jennifer did not panic but quickly walked back toward the kitchen door, hit the close button for the garage door, and walked into the house. She prayed none of the neighbors saw her while she started the washer.

She trotted upstairs past her parent's room to her older sister’s bedroom. Marsha was twenty-one and away at college. Jennifer looked up to her and considered her to be way cool. She entered Marsha’s room and took a pale pink blouse from her closet and a pair of white polyester shorts from her dresser. The shorts were snug but fit, and since Marsha was much taller than Jennifer, she was forced to tie the blouse in a knot around her waist.

She returned to the kitchen to get a Coke from the refrigerator and walked into the family room to turn on the TV. A knock on the sliding glass doors made her jump. She turned to see a giant man on the patio. Jennifer froze.  

The Smiths lived next door, and Tom Smith owned a construction company. He was taller than Peter McCall by several inches, and he was physically imposing. The white t-shirt he wore was tight across his broadly built shoulders and chest and stretched over his thick belly. His arms were knotted with muscles, while his hands were rough and powerful. He was a bear of a man. The giant stood on their back patio and waved a paw at her through the glass doors. Nervously, Jennifer walked to the doors and slid one open.  

“H… H... Hi,” she stammered.  

“Oh, hi...uh... Marsha. Sorry, but I saw earlier that both cars were gone, and I saw the garage door shut. I was just checking. I didn’t know you were home from college,” he explained.  

“Yeah, I’m…uh...home...for a while, Mr. Smith.”  

“Well, good,” he said and smiled.  

“Thanks for checking, Mr. Smith.”  

The big man stepped backward and then waved sheepishly. He walked around the rear of the garage and disappeared. Immediately, Jennifer shut, locked the door, and pulled the curtains. She ran to the parlor and peeked through the window blinds to see Mr. Smith return to his yard work.  

“Yes! I can’t believe it; he thought I was Marsha,” she exclaimed happily.