The following is a work of Adult Fiction. If you are Under 18, or are offended by fiction involving transgender, bisexual, scat, or minors, or are an Idiot, a Bigot, or a Zealot do not read. Haters iggied.
Dairy Queen
There are pro's and con's to living in Mississippi in the summer. On the downside, it is hot, humid, and sticky.
On the upside, it is hot, humid, and sticky. As a transplanted Northerner ( a Yankee) I am not at all suited to heat and humidity, however, as a pervert, I find that heat and humidity give rise to halter tops, shorts, and sweaty girls.
How I came to be a Yankee pervert living in the Deep South with a house full of women is a long story, so pour yourself a drink and settle in. I guess I should make it clear in the beginning that although I am the man of the house, I am not considered much of a man in the house. Oh, I'm intelligent, well educated, and condidered quite kind and personable by most who know me, or so it was anyway.
Like too many others, I had lost my job, a victim of the new economy. Mellissa, the girls and I had moved in with her mother. My inability to find a job and a few indiscretions later I found myself living in a strange land, in someone else's house, and at the bottom of the totem pole. The discretions will have to wait, I was going to tell you about the Dairy Queen night, and you will begin to understand.
I had finished the supper dishes and joined Mellissa on the porch. "I brought you another glass of tea, Mel."
"Thank you baby. You got any smokes left, I'm out."
I fished a pack from my pocket, sat next to her, and was rewarded with a smile and a kiss. Mel and I came from different worlds. She never had much education, never expected to need one. She got pregnant with Hannah when she was 14 and pretty much gave up on ever leaving her 'trailer trash' life. I had known her for years before we hooked up, I thought she was sweet and pretty, but never considered actually dating her. She on the other hand was completely swept off her feet by the fact that I treated her as an attractive, intelligent person who was the victim of things beyond her control. I talked to her in a way that no other man, not even her family talked to her. I always felt that she just needed a little confidence, and perhaps a little kindness to change her life. By the time she had decided that she was going to land me as her man she was twice divorced, had three girls, and was living with her mother again.
When we did finally hook up it was absolutely incredible. I've been with a lot of girls and a lot of freaks but never ever had I spent a night like the one we had spent in that Tupelo motel. She had the right moves, we were a good fit, and she tried really, really hard. We were really in love, but due to recent occurences the balance of power had shifted and now I was the one who was trying really, really hard. You might even say I would have done anything for her...or the girls...or her mother...or any other women she knew.
I leaned back on the steps and looked at her, as beautiful as the day I met her, as beautiful as the night we first made love, as beautiful as the night she took me to the point of no return. In spite of all that had happened I was a happy man. I had a beautiful wife with beautiful daughters and Mellissa and I were both happy with my new role in life. She took a drag of my cigarette, her face glistened in the glow. Just for the record, southern belles don't glisten, they sweat. And that is a good thing. A very good thing.
"Momma, look at me, momma, momma." Britney and Hannah were doing cartwheels in the grass. Cartwheels are very important in the rural south. If you can do cartwheels, have good cheering skills, and big tits you can grow up to do something great like being a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader, or sleeping with a high school quarterback. Britney was a petite as they come. She would never be a professional cheerleader, but just like her mother, she tried really, really hard.
"That's good, baby. Real good. Hannah don't sprain your wrist again, be careful."
Hannah, on the other hand, was not petite at all. Still in junior high, she had outgrown her mother in every department. Hannah had curves. When Hannah walked down the street men's cocks twitched. I watched as she back flipped two, three, four times. Then Brit would take a turn, then Hannah again. She would bound across the yard like a gymnast and land breathless and red faced, then pull her shorts and panties out of her ass and pull her bra back down like only teens can do. Brit would follow behind, landing on her butt more often than not, giggling and sweating.
They walked over to the porch, "Momma, I am sweatin'."
"Yes baby, you are sweatin'." Brit took the ice tea glass in both her little hands and gulped, finishing with a pronounced, "ahhhhhhhh! Hannah took a smoke from the pack and lit up. As she reached over me on the step her crop top flared open enough to show her bra drenched in sweat. Rivulets formed under her arms and ran down her pits before disappearing into the side of her bra. Yes, I felt a twinge.
"Momma, can we go to D.Q?" asked Hannah.
"Yea, yea, yea, I want ice cream," chimed the little one.
"Sorry babies, momma got no money."
"Momma!!!" A plaintive chorus.
"We do need to go get some smokes." confided Mel.
"Sorry, I put the last I had in the gas tank today."
"I'm not goin' through the night without smokes." She smiled. Then she grinned. "Maybe if you guys asked Tracy nicely."
"Traaaaaaaaaccccccccceeeeeeeeeyyyyyy!" In stereo.
They plopped on top of me, one on each leg. "Please, pretty please, with sugar on top." Hannah raised her elbows and flipped her sweaty hair back. She leaned in wrapping an arm around my neck making sure I could feel her sopping pits. She batted her lashes and pouted her sultry little lips and stuck her tongue in my ear. "Please."
Brit, had already rolled off of my lap and was busy untying her sneakers. My feet are sweating. She rubbed her fingers between her toes and held a finger up toward my face, "Toe jam." She giggled.
Mellissa jumped on the seduction train, "You know, a little whipped cream wouldn't be bad?'
"Unh, unh. I know what you guys are thinking and its not gonna happen."
"But, Baaaaabbbbbbyyy!"
"No!" I knew I had already lost.
"Britney. Take your shorts off."
"Panties too, momma?"
"Yes, panties too."
Britney peeled out of her wet little shorts, wiggling and scrunching to get them down her legs. Giggling she turned and wiggled her booty. She took off her panties and held them out for me.
"Go on," said Mellissa, "strip, and put them on! Hannah go inside and get me one of your old training bras."
I stood and stripped, Britney giggled. Mellissa copped a quick feel of my balls and mockingly licked her lips. I gotta tell you, getting into a pair of tiny wet 'Hannah Montana" panties is a challenge. I wiggled and danced and pulled them up, but they kept rolling up because they were wet. The shorts were a little easier, not much, but a little.
"Momma, I can't find them bra's."
"Look under our bed, baby."
"K!"
Now I don't have a big package but when you are crammed into a pair of shorts made for a child everything is front and center. Mellissa surveyed, then pulled them up as high as they would go. Hannah returned with a white cotton training bra that wasn't quite white anymore.
"Put this on. Britney, go in and get momma's purse and tell gramma we're going to the store." She kicked off her flips and slid them to me, "Here put these on."
I slid my toes into the flips, "I swear the things I do for you girls."
"Well, its your own faul..."
"I know, I know, holding up my palms in mock defense."
"Besides," she said, "you love it."
"I love you!" I said.
Brit-Brit bounced out the door, handed the purse to her mother and headed for the car. "Whoah. Where do you think you're going dressed like that? The kid looked at her, then down at herself and said, "o.K.", pulled her top off and got in the car butt naked. Hannah and Mellissa looked at each other and busted out laughing.
"Come on, lets go. Hannah, grab Tracy's t-shirt for your sister." She pulled the keys out of her purse and handed it to Hannah, "I think there' a tube of lipstick in there."
"Ooh, Momma, can I do his toenails." Hannah pulled out a bottle of pink glitter polish.
"O.k. you two get in the back. Come on Brit, up front with momma."
So off we went. Hannah and I sat facing each other in the back seat so that she could paint my toenails. Mellissa was on the phone with someone talking about nothing, and Brit was playing with the radio like it was just another day. Hannah finished a second coat just as we arrived. Mellissa pulled up to the curb and put the car in park. Undoing her seat belt and twisting around she said, "O.K. Let me take a look. Very nice"
"Momma which lipstick?"
"The dark red."
"Momma, can I do it?"
Mellissa laughed, "I don't know honey." When Brit-Brit played with make up it got all over her face and all over everything near her. Mel looked at me, looked at the parking lot and the street in front of us. "I got an idea. Hannah, change places with your sister." The girls changed places, Mellissa rolled the tube of lipstick all the way up and handed it to Britney. "O.K.,Honey you can put it on him, but wait til I tell you."
Mellissa fastened her seat belt and pulled away from the curb. A couple of minutes later we're on the road leading out of town and Mel is able to pick up a little speed. The girls and I are just silent, wondering what the hell Mom is doing. The road the road has turned dark, hilly and curvy. "Just what I was looking for." and she pulled into the drive of some beat up trailer home. We sit there for just a second, wondering "What the Hell." Mellissa backs out of the drive and points the car back toward town. By the time we hit the hills and curves we're up to full speed.
"O.K., Baby, now." All of a sudden we understood. When momma plays, she plays good. Britney climbed up in my lap and as the car bounced through the darkness applied a dark red lipstick to my face using the braille method.
Once again we were there. Mellissa looked in the mirror and smiled. "You know what you gotta do."
Hannah turned on the dome light. "You look like a faggot!"
"I'd kiss you, but..." and she laughed. "O.k., baby, get out.
I stepped onto the sidewalk. The car pulled away. The streetlight seemed brighter than normal tonight. I leaned against a post and closed my eyes. No wallet, no phone, no money. I could feel the lipstick smeared on my lips. But I wasn't in drag, I look good in drag. I'm comfortable in drag. No, I'm just a guy in pink flip-flops with painted toenails wearing 6x shorts with red Hannah Montana panties peeking out the back, and a white stained training bra. All soaked in girl sweat. I had one hour. And I needed twenty-five bucks. I looked up at the sign, 'Adult Bookstore Movies and Adult Novelties. Must be 21 to enter'. The door opened and a paunchy balding old man came out just as a truck pulled into the parking lot. "You know," I thought, "Some ice cream wouldn't be bad.
Jessica Easy