The Dominafuhrer - THE GODMOTHER

Episode 24 - The Best Years Of My Life

 Kelly’s eyes had misted over as she recounted this part of her tale and she was smiling at the memories. Personally I didn’t like the sound of this Michael, although I hadn’t met him yet because I guessed that it was all going to end badly. Perhaps I was a little jealous because my youth had been so different, unable to share my feelings and express my desires with anyone else. I looked at my watch because the morning was passing and extracted two more of my dwindling supply of cigarettes.

“The next two years were the best of my life,” Kelly continued. “How I wish that they had never ended or that I could live them through again and again. The next morning we obviously had to clean up, wash my face and hide all the clothes away but I went through the day in a trance, waiting until we could be alone together that night. My Ma and Pa were amazed that I went up to my bedroom early without being chased. That night was as magical as the previous one although neither of us was as nervous and hasty, taking time to explore each others bodies and prolong the wonderful moments before ejaculation. We talked and planned as we licked each others fingers knowing that we must keep our relationship and my new appearance concealed. By the time that we fell asleep in each others arms, we had contrived several ways to make that happen. First of all, we would use both beds on alternate nights so that both sets of sheets got the same wear but we would also remake the bed in the morning and strip both beds at the end of the week before my Ma could do it. We would also keep the bedroom extra clean so that she need not spend so much time in there anyway. My female attire, still in its sack, was concealed at the bottom of a cupboard and covered with toys and sports equipment until other arrangements could be made.

Two weeks later, the school term came to an end and the next part of our plan could be implemented. Michael was already displaying his artistic talents then and, in the two years that he had been with us, had produced some excellent sketches and water-colours of the family, the farm and the countryside. I suggested to my parents that Michael should use my grandparents’ old house for his studio so that he could work undisturbed on the understanding that we kept the place clean. That was agreed and we moved my sack, less a nightdress and some underwear, along with Michael’s artist’s materials to the other house. For two months during the summer, we rode over with one of my Ma’s packed lunches for each of us and, once inside, I would transform myself and Michael set up his easel or get out his sketch pad. We didn’t need to masturbate all the time but we had the freedom to do it together when we wanted. I needed to practice and perfect the feminine arts; lovemaking, makeup, dressing and walking in shoes too small for me. Don’t you dare laugh! I’ve seen you looking at my big feet. I can’t help it that in my early years I went barefoot in summer and wore big boots in the winter. Anyway, I worked on being a better female for Michael who was working on being a better artist and lover. We kept a look out for unexpected visitors but, on the flat prairie, we could see and hear Pa’s pickup coming from some distance and the Italian were incapable of going anywhere without making a noise and never had any reason to come into the house. I always had time to dash up stairs to the bathroom, strip off and get under the shower before Pa came through the door to check on us. He must have wondered about my sudden obsession with cleanliness. He certainly wasn’t pleased as I let my hair grow, although it took a long time. The wigs were old, hot and looked artificial and I hoped to dispense with them eventually. Pa complained that I was getting sissified but Ma was pleased. We loosened some boards in one of the bedroom walls and created a wardrobe for my feminine things in case Ma or Pa came round when we were not there. I was even able to wash my clothes after wear, dry them and eventually master the hot iron without burning holes in them. At the end of the day we locked up and went home and then to bed for more delights. After a while, Michael suggested that instead of masturbation we take each others penises directly in the mouth but I wasn’t sure until Michael performed the first fellatio on me. After that I was quite happy to share the new experience with him and we quickly progressed to sixty-nineing each other. Some days we did go out to swim in the creek or the river and we both stripped naked for that, laying on the bank afterwards; holding hands while we dried off in the sun and watching the Tiger Moths from the RCAF Flying School doing their training circuits over head. 

Summer came to an end and we went back to school but we still had our nights in bed together and the weekends at the old house. I was more assured and my hair had grown long enough to be brushed into some sort of feminine style. We needed to solve the problem that, not only was my wardrobe starting to wear out but, I was outgrowing most of it as I started to grow upwards at an alarming rate. As Christmas approached, we planned a daring adventure to go shopping in Edmonton. The largest city in the Province was far enough away for us not to run into any one who knew us as we certainly would in High River and possibly could in Calgary. Michael’s Father had arranged for him to have an allowance at a local bank and he drew out what we thought would be enough funds to cover the shopping list that we had drawn up. Ma and Pa were dubious at letting a fourteen and a twelve year old loose in the big city but we worked on them separately until they both gave in. Early one freezing cold Saturday morning, we left our horses in High River and waited for the northbound train. Once we made sure that nobody in the car knew us, I slipped straight into the washroom to change into girls’ clothes, apply makeup and brush my hair. The weather was cold and everyone was wearing sexless heavy coats anyway but it was important to me that I looked the part before we got to our destination. I sat down beside Michael, who looked at me proudly, and we held hands for the one hundred and eighty mile journey. When we arrived in Edmonton, we made straight for the main department stores; Woodwards and Eatons and started on our shopping spree. After the first couple of purchases, all my nervousness and uncertainty vanished; the city was packed with shoppers all with money in their pockets from the oil and war industries that had suddenly grown up in the last few years, even if the goods on offer were limited. Once I had been called Miss or Young Lady a couple of times I stopped worrying and just wanted to get on with replenishing my wardrobe. A couple each of dresses, skirts, blouses, sweaters, nightdresses, a swimming costume and cap, several sets of underwear, packets of stockings, makeup and most important of all: shoes that fitted me, were all purchased and then we could move onto the official reason for our outing; Christmas presents for the family. We even had lunch and several coffees but eventually, and loaded down with bags, we boarded the southbound train. I started to cry with happiness, my new persona had passed the test of appearing in public. As you’ve probably heard Mistress tell you, the trick is to look ordinary; people only notice you if you look strange and bring attention to yourself. I was as exhausted as Michael’s pocket book and slept with my head on his shoulder most of the way home, almost forgetting to do my quick change act in the washroom as the train puffed its way up the last incline to High River Station. Of course we had to detour to my Grandparent’s house to secrete my new female purchases so it was quite late when we finally got home to my worried parents but I will always remember that as one the most wonderful days of my life. Nineteen Forty Four was the year that we knew the war was not going to drag on for ever and I had the first doubts about was going to happen when the fighting stopped and Michael’s parents wanted him to go home. In fact, after the invasion of Normandy, we got a wire saying that they were arranging a passage on a ship for him and, a week later, another one canceling the first because the Germans were bombarding London with Doodlebug flying bombs. Michael seemed totally unmoved and promised me that he didn’t want to home but, for the first time; I felt cold fingers clutching at my heart. When spring and summer holidays came by, we could resume our takeover of the old house and I could make full advantage of the clothes that Michael had bought for me. We got more daring; riding further afield so that Michael could sketch and paint the countryside, including a three day horse ride to the foot of Mount Joffre in the Rockies, sleeping overnight under the same blanket beneath the stars. We were not worried if strangers saw us and took care to avoid any one that might recognize us but rumours did get around that Michael had a blonde girlfriend and I took an evil pleasure in joining in teasing him at the supper table. We were so in love and we tried to add variations to oral sex and masturbation; Michael would lie on top of me and I would grip his penis between the tops of my thighs in a simulation of the standard sex act and, even more erotic, he would rub his penis between the cheeks of my bottom but not penetrating me. Winter meant another expedition to Edmonton because I really needed more and larger clothes, particularly nice underwear, stockings, shoes and makeup. We even dared to consider staying a night together in a hotel but finally abandoned the idea when we realised that we might be required to produce some proof of age and identity. I thought that my biggest worry in Ninety Forty Five would be the soft golden down on my face limbs and body turning to hard bristles and needing removal with a razor blade but suddenly, one day in May, we were listening to Winston Churchill, over the radio from London, announcing the end of the war in Europe.

Our only thought that day was that Brian had survived and would be coming home and we had a party, Pa breaking open a bottle of Canadian Whisky that he had been saving for the occasion and Ma, with her Celtic heritage, was quite happy to join him. Neither of them noticed that Michael and I had helped ourselves to a large glass each of the neat liquid. When we staggered up to bed, I was incapable of dressing up for Michael and we both collapsed naked onto his bed. We kissed and caressed but I was aware that I was being turned on my side and that Michael’s hard erection was seeking to penetrate my rectum. One part of my mind wanted to resist but I also wanted to show Michael how much I loved him and was ready to let our two bodies finally become one. This time the pain was unbelievable as my sphincter muscles were forced apart from the outside for the first time. I could feel him deep inside me and I wanted to scream at him to stop pushing and withdraw; anything to stop the pain. When he did pull back slightly, I gasped with relief but Michael thrust again and I had the drunken fear that he would split me apart. He started to get a rhythm going with his thrusts and slowly the pain became waves of pleasure coursing through my body. My nerves were wires carrying an electric current from my toes to the roots of the hair on my head. Now I didn’t want him to stop, thrusting back with my buttocks against his groin and calling out his name. Michaels arms circled my chest, holding me tight against his own as his penis got even larger and then jerked inside me. Something wet was splashing against my sensitive inner flesh and Michael’s thrusts were made easier as his semen lubricated the movement of his shaft. My own penis was stiff and throbbing and I had no sooner cupped my hands over the top than it jerked and squirted cum over my fingers. Michael relaxed his grasp on my body and his penis slid out of my rectum to lie, wet and still leaking, against the back of my thighs. He whispered in my ear how much he loved me and how we would never be parted and, as I sleepily licked my sticky fingers, I was confident that the consummation of our love put the final seal on our commitment to each other.

We were woken the next morning by my Ma shouting at the top of her voice from downstairs. My head was throbbing, my mouth was dry and I felt that I was going to be sick at any moment. Michael did not look any better as we wrapped dressing gowns around our naked and sweaty bodies and cautiously descended the stairs to find out what the excitement was. My Pa, also looking very fragile, stood holding the telephone as Ma told us that the Telegraph Office in the town was on the line. They had a wire for us from Ottawa to say a berth had become vacant for Michael on a ship to England that was leaving in six days and we had to accept now or they would offer it to the next person on the waiting list. The problem was that the only way that Michael could cross the continent to Halifax in time was if he caught a train that afternoon. When it had penetrated my brain I looked at Michael, confident that my lover, whose sticky semen I could still feel between my legs, would say that he did not want to leave me and go home. Instead, to my horror, he leapt in the air, cheered and whooped with joy while my Pa dictated the reply over the telephone. I was dumbstruck and devastated, sitting down on the stairs as Michael ran back upstairs to wash, dress and start packing. Several times, I tried to speak to him when we were alone together but he didn’t seem to understand what I was saying and I ended up alone and heartbroken on the porch with tears streaming down my face.

A couple of hours later we were all crushed into the cab of the pickup with Michael’s trunk and suitcase in the back as Pa drove downhill to Calgary at breakneck speed. With his luggage safely stowed aboard the train, Michael said his thanks and goodbyes, promising to write often and giving my parents warm hugs and a handshake to me. He wouldn’t meet my eyes and, to my bewilderment, I saw shame on his face: was it for what he had done with me, for leaving my like this or was it in disgust at the whole episode?

The train had moved a few yards when Michael suddenly reappeared on the steps, beckoning and calling out: “Kelly! Kelly!” My heart leapt and I ran towards him hoping that he was going to tell me that he had changed his mind or was going to come back for me but all he said, as I sprinted alongside him, was that he had forgotten about his paintings and sketches at my Grandparents’ house. Could I arrange for them to be sent on to him in London, keeping any that I fancied, of course? With that, the train gathered speed and he was gone. I watched it dwindle into the distance until there was only the locomotive’s whistle, as it approached a road crossing, echoing back across the prairie.”    



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