Author's Note:
This is a continuation from a previous story, ("My Aunt's Gift") that you really need to read in order for this story to make sense. The unnamed protagonist is a young man, early twenties that has a rare genetic quirk that essentially gave him the body of a hot sexy woman. His story is not the typical 'Chick with a Dick' story as he views himself as a male heterosexual, and will always present himself as one, even if others view him otherwise.
These stories are his struggles with his identity and sexuality.
As I'm more interested in the characters, you won't find wall to wall sex scenes or wild fuck fests, but since the story delves into his sexuality, I try to base it somewhat realistically. For the purists out there, these are
his
experiences, not how things should be.
I know the premise is largely unrealistic, but you're really not reading stories on this site for the realism now are you?
Just go with it.
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It was the beginning of summer before the family was able to return to the lake house. This time it would be just mom, dad and myself. Mom wanted the rest of the family to join us for this vacation, but it seemed everyone else had their own lives that didn't center around the family matriarch anymore. Didn't help as the vacation wasn't really planned, and our relatives already had plans for the summer. Mom worried that the hugely successful Christmas gathering would be the last time the extended family was ever together, and she hated the thought of the family drifting apart.
I guess it's the price of living in the modern age.
For myself, I was disappointed that Aunt Asta couldn't make it, but she and Uncle Rock were closing the deal on the Caribbean resort that was for sale, and wouldn't be back until the sale was completed.
Which was a good thing I told myself repeatedly.
I thought on my Aunt's words often: "I think you need to experience more women, and who knows, maybe one day you can show me how much you've learned before I give you that title."
I focused on the "One day you can show me how much you've learned." Which I took to heart. One day I would taste the ecstasy that was my aunt, but only after I've had more experience. Since losing my cherry to my Aunt on Christmas I had not been with any woman, and my prospects didn't look good.
Given I lived under the protective umbrella of my mom, and worked for my dad, there wasn't opportunity to meet women of any age that didn't think of me as either a freak, or off limits. The only women I really knew by name all worked for the company, and for the most part those women viewed me as one of their own kids or worse, were freaked out by me, and didn't know how to handle me.
As a result, I can masturbate like a pro, now with an improved stimulus package downloaded that magical night by my aunt. Because of my aunt, my self pleasuring repertoire now included playing with my breasts, and squeezing my nipples, which made my climaxes more intense, but in the end, I was still just jerking off to internet porn.
Aunt Asta was right, I led a sheltered life, and I needed to cut the apron strings, and venture out on my own.
But not right now.
Mom's sadness that the family was drifting apart was palpable, and there was no way in hell I would add to her misery by moving out on my own right now.
So, I was still in the nest, waiting for the right time to spread my wings, and probably single-handedly - pun intended- keeping internet porn industry subsidized.
The caretakers did a great job of opening the lake house for the summer. The house was thoroughly cleaned, the beds were all made with fresh linens, all the vehicles gassed up, oils checked, and engines tested. Most importantly the refrigerator and pantry were stocked as per mom's specifications, so there was little we had to do other than unpack and have fun.
Since I received a high end mountain bike for Christmas, this vacation would be my first chance to put the modern miracle of computer design and space age materials through it's paces as I liked the extreme aspect of mountain biking, and the terrain around the lake was custom tailored to my riding style. I couldn't wait to break the bike in, to learn it's quirks and idiosyncrasies. Other than some pretty lame rider friendly trails back home, there wasn't much opportunity to really ride a bike meant to ridden hard.
As soon as I finished unpacking, I dressed in my new mountain bike gear; a custom made sports bra fitted by the owner of the company herself, topped with a loose fitting dark colored shirt and matching rugged mountain bike pants with padded liner, no need for underwear! Going commando was the only way to ride! And the custom fitted no clip shoes matched to the bike's pedals.
I was styling big, and haters were gonna hate.
Once dressed, I announced my intentions as I filled my water bottle in the kitchen. Mom gave me the customary speech about being careful, wear the gloves and pads, watch for weather, don't talk to strangers, stay to the trail, and take my phone.
"I'm not a little kid anymore." I protested, chaffing that she was still treating me like I was seven years old. "I'm old enough to legally drink in this country. I know what I'm doing."
"No matter how old you are, you'll always be my little boy." Mom smiled, kissed my cheek. "Don't you know that by now?"
I checked my rugged video camera to see if at least had some charge remaining, then clipped it into the mount on my helmet. Now it would record everything I would see on the ride.
It was a beautiful day, and I was really looking forward to the uber-challenging downhill part of the ride near the end, where men were made and the weak went home crying.
I wasn't even fifteen minutes into my ride that I landed hard after a simple log jump that I sheared the crank arm from the gear assembly, something that should have been impossible to do. Not something that could be fixed on the trail. It would require replacing the gear assembly, which meant that I had to return to the lake house way earlier than I planned.
You know how disappointed you get when something you wanted for a long time suddenly fails when you get it? Like getting a toy at Christmas that immediately breaks the first time you play with it as a kid? That's exactly what happened to me, and now I was limping home with my broken toy. For a bike that was priced well into four figure range, that was completely unacceptable. It hadn't even gotten properly dirty yet, splashed with mud or anything!
The bike was light enough I could carry it, and I followed the trail's steep incline back to the lake house, muttering angrily the whole time. Clip less mountain bike shoes were not designed for hiking, which only added to my frustration. I could have easily pulled another of my bikes from the garage, but the thrill of the ride had been extinguished, and I was done for the day.
What a way to start vacation.
The lake house was eerily quiet when I got back. Taking off my riding shoes, I strode barefoot into the house without a sound, almost ninja like I thought. Since the hive of activity that permeated the lake house at Christmas, the sounds of children's laughter from the game room, men shouting at the game on television, the cackle of women gossiping in the kitchen, were all absent now. Mom had every right to be depressed, I thought as I entered the kitchen to tell mom the bad news about my bike. The house seemed solemn, a mausoleum, a museum to happier times.
Still, I rather enjoyed the quiet stillness. The way the sounds of nature through the open windows echoed oddly in the rooms, the wandering breeze dancing with the hem of the curtains.
I'm a bit of a loner, whether by choice, or circumstances, it's hard to say, but either way, I much preferred the quiet solitude of the lake house now.
Which was another reason I hadn't met other women yet.
Hard to meet people when you never leave your room, and play online games day in and day out, or go on solo runs or bike ride for hours at a time.
"Mom, dad!" I called out.
Not hearing a response, I wandered through the large modern kitchen and into the great room with its huge wall of glass windows. The lake house was once featured in an architectural magazine, with all of its modernizations, yet still imbued with the old school lake cabin charm. But it was the impressive picturesque view of the lake that caught everyone's attention. Everyone that saw the lake for the first time from within the great room could only gape in awe at the panoramic vista set before them.
The great room was empty.
Maybe they were on the deck, I thought, enjoying their favorite views, drinking coffee or wine as they liked to do when relaxing.
As I stepped down into the great room and made my way to one of the closed doors leading to the deck, I caught sight of my father through the window, sitting on the old wicker divan couch mom bought at a flea market not long ago. It looked like they were trying to find the best place to put it. It would be like mom to spend hours trying to find that one perfect spot for it. She would look at it from different angles, framing the scene with her fingers like an old movie director to make sure it was the perfect fit, just in case the magazine writers ever came back to take more photos.
I was almost to the door, when I saw mom laying beside him on the couch, her head in his lap.