This story is about an incestuous relationship. There are also elements of submission and dominance.
All characters are age eighteen or older.
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My name is Andrew, usually called Andy. This is the story of my journey, an account of my private ways. Some may call it a tale of degradation, not I. While outwardly a normal American male I had a secret life that, ultimately, brought me joy and satisfaction. But that would bring me disgrace and condemnation if it was ever revealed.
It was my ex-wife who got me started wearing women's panties. Her name was Amanda. A tall, voluptuous woman who turned men's heads. Some people wondered what she saw in me. It didn't matter. She did say once that she was attracted to small men. That was enough to get us together. She had flirted with me to get me to ask her out. I had never thought I would have a chance with such a statuesque woman. When she found out how well-endowed I am it was a whole new ball game.
Our sex life was an adventure. The night before our wedding she urged me to try on her panties. I was in love and could not refuse her. I tried them on and they fit. I am a little on the small side, 5' 6" and slim. Although fit, I am not muscular. In fact Amanda was taller than me by an inch or two. She had a well-shaped ass that was broad enough that the silk panties fit my small frame.
I ate her cunt that night while wearing the panties. Somehow it seemed to make me enjoy her aromatic pussy even more than usual. Later she sucked my cock after pulling the silken underwear down onto my thighs, just far enough to free my hard shaft.
I was wearing her panties under my tux the next day for our wedding. By then I had realized that I was enjoying the feel of them against my skin and the silken support for my balls. Over the course of the next couple of years we continued our adventurous ways. Amanda kept urging me into women's lingerie, and later skirts and blouses. She would spend an hour or more making me up and fitting me with a wig. I never complained. I had come to enjoy the feeling of femininity I had developed.
By the end of the fourth year of our marriage I was regularly wearing a sheer nightgown to bed and acting as a surrogate lesbian lover for her. I was mostly content. Her pussy was wet and fragrant. On occasion she would squirt and I would avidly lap up her cum. I seldom fucked her any more. Despite the fact that I am well hung and that Amanda thoroughly enjoyed it when she did take my cock into her lovely pussy.
Although I would get throbbing hard-ons. I usually had to find relief through masturbation. A couple of times a month she would push me onto my back and ride me until she had cum several times. Only at those few times was I was allowed to cum in her pussy. She would sit on my face afterwards and I would suck my cum out of her lovely cunt. Other times she would butt fuck me with a strap on. I enjoyed that. The stimulation of my prostrate would cause me to cum explosively. She would laugh at the puddle of my seed on the sheets.
It was at the end of that fourth year of marriage that she introduced me to Sam and Jane. Then told me she was leaving me for them. "A real man and a real woman." She had said.
I was crushed. I tried to talk her out of it. She was the only woman I had ever loved. I was wasting my breath. She despised me now, loathed the creature she herself had created. Defeated, I called my mother and asked if she could put me up for a while.
Amanda had a good income, as did I. We are both accountants. She didn't ask for much. She only wanted to be rid of me. I slunk home to Mother and gave her the house in the divorce settlement.
My women's clothing I put in storage. I did keep a few pairs of panties to wear when I was alone.
Somehow I was able to keep my job. It was close, though. I had a few friends at work, they didn't know about my cross dressing, who helped me get over the worst. They took up the slack for me and saved my job. I have to admit that my boss gave me every break he could. I was sincerely grateful to all of them.
My mother, too, was supportive. She never pried too much into the reasons for the failure of my marriage. She told me I could stay as long as I wanted too. We had lost my father to an accident when I was in my early teens. She said she was happy to have a man around the house again.
Mom, Alice, was in her mid-forties. Like my ex-wife she was a largish woman, but not as tall or as shapely. In fact she is just enough overweight to show a few bulges. Buxom would describe her well. She was 5' 8" and weighed about 170, on a large frame. She was a pleasant looking woman and very friendly. She had been a loving mother to me and we became very close after the loss of my father.
Mom had occasional dates, but nothing ever caught fire for her. She had several women friends who would get together for bridge or a night out. Two of the women were especially close friends. Both lived quite close to us and she would often get together with one, or both, for coffee or a drink.
She had a good job and was financially secure. Mom's background, like mine, was accounting. She had worked her way up to an executive position with a regional bank. Even though she had a good income, and was scrupulously honest, Mom had always seemed a little grasping to me. She was always looking for a way to make more money. I could ignore her trivial greediness. She is my mother and I love her.
I tried to make myself useful to my mother. I had offered, several times, to find an apartment; but she wouldn't hear of it. I didn't want to impose on her so I tried to be as helpful as I could. I helped with the housework and some of the cooking. I took over the laundry too.
I liked to put on panties when doing the laundry. I would wear my male clothing over them. Doing the laundry gave me a chance to wash the panties I wore without Mom finding out about them. There was another reason for taking care of our washing. I was able to sniff and taste Mom's panties. Amanda used to rub her soiled undergarments over my face. I had found myself looking forward to it. Mom's were even nicer, I was soon anticipating putting on silky panties and using laundry chores as an opportunity to bury my face in her savory underwear.
Mom had never said she disapproved of Amanda, and when I came back home she didn't say anything against her either. That is until she ran into Amanda at a nightclub while out with her friends. I had been back home for several months by then. Amanda was with Sam and Jane. She introduced them to Mom as her new family and then asked snidely, "How is pantie boy doing. Does he still dress up?"
Mom asked her what she meant and Amanda said. "You mean he wears man clothes now?"
Amanda walked away from her after her last remark. Mom resisted an urge to run after her and make her explain. It would have caused a big scene that would only have hurt me, her son. Mom looked around to see if any of her friends had overheard, but no one was close.
After a restless night Mom decided she had better talk to me. If for no other reason to let me know what my ex was saying about me. It was a Saturday so work wasn't a problem for either of us.
Mom was in the kitchen when I came downstairs in the morning. She smiled at me and poured my coffee. After I had enough to get me going I asked her. "How was your night out?"
"Not too good," she told me. "I'll tell you all about it after breakfast."
After we ate she told me what had happened. I was stunned, and almost speechless.
"I am only telling you about what happened, Andy. That bitch is spreading lies about you."
I broke down completely. "It's not a lie, Mom," I sobbed.
I started to tell her the story stammering and stuttering in my grief. Soon after I started to tell my sad tale, between snivels, Mom took my hand and led me to the living room couch. She sat close to me and put her arms around me drawing me to her ample bosom.
I couldn't tell her the details of my married life, only the fact that I liked to wear women's clothing. I would break down in tears whenever I started to talk. Mom hugged me and petted me. "It will be alright, Andy," she told me in a soft voice. "I know you're a real man."
We sat like that all morning. Occasionally I would try to tell her more of my story, but would break down again after on a couple of sentences. I couldn't eat lunch and Mom led me to my bedroom.
"Lie down and rest, Honey," she told me. "We can talk more later."
My sobs had ceased, but could start again in an instant. Mom sat on the edge of the bed and leaned down to kiss my forehead. I clutched at her like a drowning man. "We'll prove you're a man, Andy." She said.
She stayed with me for a half hour, or so. I was starting to doze off when she leaned down to kiss me again. "You can dress like that for me, Andy, if you want to. I think it would be fun."
