Monday, 20 September 2010

Sissy Room Service


A Hugo tale for your delight, slip into something sheer and enjoy

The school teasing had made me uneasy not because of the taunting but the half truth the other kids were oblivious of.

 'Yah kid from the Bates Motel' - 'Psycho' - 'How's your mother, haha' they would call out as I cycled back home from school to my parents Motel that sat perched on the edge of Route 66 just outside Amarillo in northern Texas. Nothing like the Bates Hotel it was just a cluster of tired old chalets around a car park where tired old salesmen would park there cars, shower, shave and masturbate the night away until sunrise would see them off on the road to their next port of call in Albuquerque, Santa Fe or back the other way towards Oklahoma City.

Maybe it was the Bates taunts that had planted the seeds or maybe it was the failed blousy blond tarty tired starlet dress sense of my mother that infected me and made me the glamorous prowler that would appear in the dark corners of that tired motel in the still of those hot sticky Texas nights. While my father snored his way through the beer haze he lived in, while my mother and her gin bottle watched more 'I love Lucy' reruns on the TV,  as the nightly two or three middle aged rumpled chalet guests that my mother had signed in and flirted with in the small decrepit reception sat in their soulless cabins drinking bottles from brown paper bags as they too dreamed of Lucille Ball and wacked off  to the same re-runs that my mother watched dreaming of a more glamorous life with glamourous men like Desi Arnaz.

Gin and Fredrick's of Hollywood were her only companions now and it was here I made my own glamorous world out of her tarty starlet fading glory of her nylon and polyester wardrobe.

 

By midnight I would emerge into the sleeping car park. Top to toed in my Fredrick's glory. My $7.99 'Jackie' wig transforming my delicate teenage features made all the more pretty with my false eyelashes and scarlet lips. My Cuban healed seamed nylons encased my perfect athletic slim legs, my calfs taught from the arch of the high marabou feathered mules that slipped onto my dainty size six feet. My stockings attached high and tight on my freshly shaved legs to my Fredrick's 'Two Timer', a 'Rayon Acetate Powerflex corselet miracle hip enhancer that had shaped rubber foam pads hidden in the secret derrière pockets to create that womanly look. For $5.99 I had bought two of Fredrick's number one bras,'The Venus' guaranteed to make your bosom rise and make you feel like a goddess, dainty stitched satin cups again with secret rubber foam inserts to achieve that pert womanly line. A line that sat so well when under my 'Anthea' slip with its$2.99 grecian styled acetate nylon satin pleats that finished just below mid thigh with 4 inches of nylon lace. My favorite dress would often be the 'La Sheer' - 'Bare your shoulders and snuggle your curves' with $7.99 worth of drip dry Rayon satin that flared out  from the waist over its built in delicate crinoline under skirt that made it flounce and bounce as I walked and over to the shadowy recess of the ice machine on the corner by the end chalet.

It was here I would wait for those late night drinkers to emerge in search of more ice to cool their lonely whiskeys, It was here I would listen for the chalet doors to open and as they shuffled around the corner I would take up my position bending over as if collecting ice, affording them a teasing glimpse in the half light up my flared skirt and the dainty petals of nylon that clustered around my stocking tops and thighs. My unmistakable feminine form feigning startled surprise and my charms would soon have me taking advantage of them, dropping to my knees and gently teasing out there lonely penises, large, small, stubby, always hairy, often smelling of sweat and urine and usually still dribbling the spunk of their earlier masturbation. This heady concoction would drive that wanton moment in me as my scarlet lipstick would leave its traces up and down there stiffening shafts as there heads would engorge deep in my throat and fairly shortly after that there deep breathing and guttural grunts would alert me to withdraw there dicks from my mouth and pump the impending explosion and flood of hot seamen onto my pretty little face and open mouth.

And then I would be gone, leaving them as if sucker punched blinking in the half light of the crackling and blinking neon, dicks dribbling, empty ice bucket still in hand, not sure wether it was a dream, Lucille Ball or as I am sure many of them thought, my mother.


Do remember to click the images to enlarge

No comments:

Post a Comment