The Lake House Pt. 02 – Kelly


Authors Note:

This is a continuation of a story started with “My Aunt’s Gift” that you really need to read in order for this series of stories 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.

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.

WARNING: This story deals with PTSD from a traumatic event that happened in the main characters past, and ends on a bit of a downer.

Both of my parents were in a good mood the next morning, which was not a surprise. Away from work, the stress of the mundane business world cast aside, they became like newlyweds, recapturing the mojo of life before kids.

I was the proverbial third wheel, the fly in the ointment for their otherwise perfect vacation. I should have stayed home. But I insisted to tag along, to ride my new -but broken- mountain bike. Now I was just in the way, with nothing to do.

I tried to put my best face forward, but all I could think about was mom and dad making love on the deck the day before, and the sin I had committed while watching them unseen, and then jerking off two more times, each time imagining I was with them.

Jesus Christ! Why couldn’t I get rid of this twisted fantasy?

It was a tenacious fantasy that stayed with me, consuming my every waking moment. Each time the fantasy became more detailed, more depraved than the one before.

It didn’t help that mom was almost naked again this morning, wearing a very short kimono style white robe dad had given her for Christmas. It practically flowed from her shoulders like slow moving paint, and she was always fiddling with it, sliding it back up. The robe seemed intent to reveal her luscious breasts the moment mom let go of the fabric. No doubt if she didn’t keep pulling it up, it would flow completely from her, pooling at her feet.

And I wouldn’t have minded at all.

I imagine in most households, the robe would be considered a type of sexy ‘come fuck me’ negligee, but for my mom, it was a step up from being completely naked. I’ve seen her naked for most of my life, but there was something about the way she wore the kimono, both concealing and revealing her perfect MILF body, that excited me. The silk clung to her in all the right ways, and I know she was expressly teasing dad with how she was wearing it.

I was simply collateral damage for her seductive ways.

She was stunning, and I found myself staring several times, the arousal always there, my cock stirring inappropriately at times.

I was absolutely disgusted and ashamed of myself.

But I couldn’t stop staring. I don’t know if mom knew the reaction she was having on me, or if she did, she didn’t say anything, or even try to stop.

How could dad be so strong? If I were him, I would have taken her right there on the breakfast table.

God, I needed to go jerk off again.

“Son, I have a task for you today.” Dad said, interrupting my mounting frustration.

I gave dad a questioning frown, turning my attention back to our traditional Swedish breakfast of simple open faced sandwiches, boiled eggs lathered with a roe like spread, accompanied with strong black coffee.

“I think the McPhersons are home.” He said negligently. “Take the boat to pay them a visit and thank them for the use of their cabin.”

“I thought we were going fishing this morning.” I complained.

“It’s too late, and I have a call to make.” Dad answered.

Suddenly the atmosphere turned dark and I shivered as the room turned ice cold.

Dad and I looked to mom at the same instant.

“Damn it!” Mom said angrily, her good mood melting away. Her face contorted with fury. I could see the fire in her eyes. A moment ago she had been this playful nymph, delighting the senses, and suddenly she was hell on earth. “You said no work this trip! You promised!”

Mom was pissed.

“Oh shit.” I whispered just loud enough for dad to hear.

“Now dear, only the one call.” Dad promised, pushed back in his seat from the fury that was mounting before him. “Shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes. The Mickland merger-“

“I don’t give a fuck about the merger!” Mom raged in Swedish. She was really angry now. “We’re on vacation, and we’re going to stay on vacation, even if I have to throw your fucking phone on the lake!”

“Fifteen minutes max.” Dad said weakly, backed into a proverbial corner.

Mom wasn’t having it, her İstanbul Escort anger darkening the room. “So help me, if you make that fucking phone call, I’m going to shove that phone so far up your ass-“

“TMI!” I said aloud, squeezing a tube of spread onto a boiled egg.

“Okay, okay!” Dad surrendered, knowing the battle was lost. “No phone call.”

Then everything went back to normal, the crisis over. Instantly the very air seemed to brighten, the sound of birds singing carried through the open windows.

I wanted to laugh. My dad may be the CEO of a pretty big company, a mover and shaker in the industry, but in his own home, Mom ruled the roost.

Truth be told, I didn’t mind dad’s task. I was looking for an excuse to get out of the cabin anyway, clear my head, maybe layout naked and jerk off on the boat for a change of pace. “I might do some fishing too.”

“Be careful.” Mom said, buttering a thin crisp of toast. She was once more calm and playful flirt, giving both dad and I an eyeful of her marvelous breasts. “Don’t forget the blankets and wear the vest.”

“Yes mother.” I sighed.

“Mind your mother.” Dad admonished good naturedly. “Don’t catch all the fish, leave some for tomorrow. I promise we’ll head out early.”

About midmorning, I gathered up the basket of laundered blankets, sunscreen, and headed for the side door. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Be careful sweetie. Leave your phone on.” Mom called out. As the screen door closed behind me, I distinctly heard mom say: “More than enough time.”

At least someone’s getting lucky this trip.

I was going to make it a point not to return early ever again.

Surprisingly, Dad met me on the dock, handed me his phone and a hastily written set of instructions. “If mom asks, you realized your phone didn’t charge last night.” He said meaningfully. “And I let you borrow mine, Okay?”

I understood, traded phones with him, awed that he was entrusting me with his phone. Absolutely nobody was allowed to touch his phone. “Okay.”

He wanted me to make the call he spoke of earlier, and he laid out exactly what to say, emphasizing his barely legible notes. I felt a chill realizing he was entrusting me with the success of the merger. He insisted that I make the call from the lake, where the signal was strongest, and I had better hurry. He changed his pin number to mine so I wouldn’t forget it. Dad’s phone was set up to automatically erase itself should three incorrect pin numbers were entered, and he lived and died by his phone. So for him to entrust me with his phone really meant a lot.

The boat started right up, and soon I was on my way across the lake.

Looking at the time, I brought the boat to a stop a short distance away, and waited several minutes before I used his phone to make the call at the exact time. A single bar. Hopefully, it was a strong enough signal. The call went through immediately, and after introducing myself, and using dad’s scribbled cribsheet for guidance, relayed the information dad was insistent I convey. I was nervous as hell, and hoped the other members of the conference didn’t hear my nervousness.

But just like dad predicted, I received confirmation of the requested changes to the merger. Now it would be up to the lawyers to hammer out the details.

Call completed, I was about to put the phone away, when his phone chirped.

Puzzled, I looked to see a text from mom.

I opened it to see a selfie of mom posing in front of a mirror, the kimono open in front, barely clinging to her breasts.

“Fuck me.” I breathed.

Mom was sexting dad, and didn’t know I had dad’s phone.

Almost immediately another photo arrived, this time a close up of mom’s freshly shaved vagina.

“Holy shit.” I whispered, instantly aroused.

‘You better hurry.’ mom texted. ‘starting without you.’

I was stunned.

After several minutes with no updates, it must have dawned on mom that dad didn’t have his phone.

I stared at the photos, enlarging them to see the sharpest detail. Amazing quality from a camera so small. She had missed a few hairs here and there, but her pussy looked as good, if not better, than many of the photoshopped images I had seen online. I could imagine exploring the very source of my existence with my tongue, my nose wrestling with her clit.

What would it be like to taste those wondrous folds of flesh? To feel her shudder from the exquisite torture of my ministrations?

My fantasy returned, overshadowing my guilt once more.

I couldn’t help myself, and opened the photo app, and quickly found dozens of other images of mom in different sexy pictures. Everything from modest fully clothes poses, to even more nude selfies in various provocative positions. And there were dozens of albums on dad’s phone.

Mom really loved to tease dad.

And he saved every picture she sent.

No wonder nobody was allowed access to his phone. It wasn’t corporate secrets that he so jealously Escort Bayan guarded, but mom’s photos.

There were years of jerking off material on dad’s camera I realized, flicking through the seemingly uncatalogued images.

Then I found a picture that I first thought was an internet meme, that of the photo of a woman’s face looking up at the camera, while the lower portion of her face has been edited out for a caption of some kind. You know the kind of photo of a woman sucking cock, her mouth open as wide as possible, her cheeks sucked in? It doesn’t show anything, but there is no mistaking what’s she doing.

She looked familiar.

Then I was reminded of Aunt Asta that wonderful, yet shameful night. The look she gave me when she sucked my cock.

No. Not my Aunt.

It took a moment to realize that the face belonged to my mom.

Dad had taken a picture of her sucking his cock.

Holy shit!

The pictures were getting good now.

Excitedly, I swiped to the next photo.

And the next.

My cock was definitely getting hard again, amazed by what I was seeing.

Then another.

This one brought my world to a stop.

It was an older photo, but there was no mistaking my mom. I stared incredulously at the photo of mom kneeling on the floor, hands cuffed behind her back, wearing a dog collar fastened with a leash, between the legs of another woman seated in a chair. I couldn’t tell who it was, but there was no mistake it was a woman. The other woman had a one leg resting over the arm of the chair, giving mom plenty of room to feast on her pussy. In the background was a blurry image of another woman watching over them, wearing only an under corset and holding the leash.

My dick instantly got hard.

‘Ding.’ The phone chimed happily in my hand.

Another photo appeared in the message app, this one of mom posing with a strap on with a rather sizable dildo. She was holding a riding crop.

‘Stanley misses you.’ she texted.

“Jesus Christ.” I muttered, understanding now the hidden implication of the long rumored Uncle Stanley that no one had ever met.

A moment later another text appeared from mom. ‘Turn the phone off, and get up here and fuck me.’

I was both startled and amused.

I finally texted back. ‘Mom, dad gave me his phone. Mine didn’t charge last night.’

At this point in a story, cartoons would play crickets to describe the silence that followed.

Mom didn’t text again, and I could only imagine what she was thinking when she read my text.

Things were going to be extremely awkward when I returned to the house later.

Maybe it would be best just to stay out all day.

I sat down and scrolled through the pictures, wishing I had brought my phone to copy these pictures to.

Finally, I could resist no longer, and using the sunscreen as lube, jerked off to the picture of mom in a collar, licking another woman’s pussy. I came way too quickly, which disappointed me just before the self loathing struck me.

Fuck! I had jerked off four times in less than a day, while fantasizing about my parents.

Sex has been nothing but trouble for me. I mean, seriously, all I do is jerk off, and the one time I do get lucky, my Aunt, whom I have always adored, winds up taking my cherry. Now I would never again be able to see her as the kind and loving Aunt I had known all my life. Now when I saw her, all I would think about as how her luscious lips looked wrapped around my cock, how she had rocked my world.

What would Uncle Rock think when he finds out that I fucked his wife?

The guilt kept compounding within me.

Then the memory of how I felt, the dark pleasures Aunt Alta unleashed swept through me, the ecstasy of that night, how complete I felt for the first time in my life.

My Aunt had set me upon a quest, a quest to experience other women.

But all I had managed to accomplish so far was to jerk off to the fantasy of fucking mom, and worse, dad.

God damn me to hell.

Maybe I should swear off sex completely, become a hermit and live in a cave. What do they call those that swear off sex, chaste or something?

No, celibate.

I would become celibate.

Maybe I should become a monk at a monastery.

Yeah, right.

The way my luck was going, I would be sent to a Nunnery and wind up like Sister Hilda, getting everyone pregnant.

Fuck. I wasn’t even religious.

I’ll just stick to what I do best, jerk off to porn.

“Elf lord, my ass.” I muttered darkly, wishing I had never gone cross country skiing that day.

Then I remembered I had a mission today.

It wasn’t a long ride as the McPherson cabin was just across the cove, not more than a half mile from the lake house as the crow flies. Amazing that such a short distance could have become the distance of the earth to the moon in a blizzard. Cutting the engine, I pulled up to the McPherson dock, shouting out a hello to the cabin. It looked a lot Eskort different on a warm summer day than the last time I was here. I wasn’t entirely certain that I was even at the right cabin.

“Hello?” I called out again from the lake side deck, securing the boat to the dock. There was no door bell on this side of the cabin. There was a large old fashioned ranch bell mounted to one of posts, and this I rang, the clang echoing across the lake.

“Around the side!” A voice called out.

I went around the side of the cabin to see the back of a muscular figure at the pole barn, chopping wood. Dressed in tattered dirty shorts, red flannel shirt, well worn workers boots, and short cropped dark auburn hair. He was chopping wood, the axe falling with a resounding crash, the wood pieces falling away. Very muscular, well toned. His whole right arm was covered in tattoos.

I heard someone talking, but couldn’t place the voice to the another person.

As I got closer, it was a moment before I realized that the figure chopping wood was a woman, and she was talking to a number of video cameras placed strategically around her.

I remembered meeting her briefly last summer when dad was buying several cord of firewood we would need for the family Christmas vacation. She was on her way out for a motorcycle ride, clad in biker gear when we showed up to talk to her grandfather. She was a tall woman, probably a good six inches taller than I, somewhat thin, with masculine features. The first time I met her I thought she was a man, and I felt a moment of jealousy, as I had the exact opposite problem. I remembered at the time wondering if tattoos would make me look more masculine. On the ride back to the Lake House, dad made the comment that she must be butch lesbian.

I couldn’t remember her name, but I need not have worried.

She set another log on the platform, and swung her axe effortlessly, neatly cleaving the log in one swing. “And that’s how it’s done out at The Lake.” She said triumphantly turning back to the camera. Her voice belied her physique, as she spoke with a sexy, nearly breathless quality. “If you like these videos, and would like to see more, please consider sponsoring me. Follow the links below. This is Kelly McPherson, Lady of the Lakes. See ya next time.” Then she went to a nearby bench and picked up a computer tablet, deftly touched the screen, inputting some gestures.

“Hey Kelly.” I said.

“And you are?” Kelly asked dismissively without looking as she reviewed her video on the tablet.

Well, she didn’t remember me, even though I remembered her.

I introduced myself, the reason I was there.

Kelly paused, looked up from her tablet to gaze upon me. A flicker of recognition. “Oh yeah, you were the one that broke into the cabin this past Christmas. Gramps did say you would be stopping by.”

“Well.” I said, now embarrassed, taken by her brilliant green eyes, scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her face was dripping with sweat, her brow smeared with dirt where she wiped it with her dirty work gloves. It was apparent she wasn’t keen on presenting herself, her eye brows were thick, but not quite unibrow, more like a young Brooke Shields. Maybe a few years older than I.

She wore no makeup of any kind.

Which was odd for someone that made online videos. All of the videos I had seen women always wore makeup of some kind, even if just to reduce the naturally oily sheen of skin, hell; even night show hosts and news casters wore makeup just so their faces didn’t shine under the studio lights. Given the surroundings, I hazard to guess Kelly’s whole Lady of the Lake image was making videos based on living well away from civilization, where societal conventions didn’t apply.

Accustomed to women made up six ways from Sunday, meeting Kelly without makeup was something of a pleasant surprise.

Still, she was rather cute, in a feral butch biker kind of way.

Setting the tablet aside, she slung the axe onto her shoulder, stood upright and turned to face me. She brushed back a loose strand of hair.

She must have been cutting wood since early that morning, as she was sweaty, turning the old red flannel lumber jack shirt she was wearing nearly transparent where it clung to her body, giving me a great view of her braless small breasts, emphasizing her large aureoles, and small, but erect, nipples that threatened to tear holes in the thin fabric.

Catching myself staring, I held up the laundry basket piled with blankets. “I didn’t have a choice. Your cabin saved our lives when the storm hit. I’m here to thank you and your dad, and return the blankets we used, and to see what I can do to repay you.”

“Oh.” She said, her gaze unwavering. She motioned to a nearby bench. “Set it over there.”

I did so.

An awkward silence followed.

Her stare became as unsettling as it was intense. It was the stare I had seen a thousand times before, when someone learns what I am. How could she know? I’m always, always, always mistaken as a woman when I first meet people. It isn’t until they are told the truth of me that I get ‘the look.’ As our last meeting had been so brief, I doubt she even paid attention to me.

How could Kelly know so quickly?

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