Date: Fri, 27 Oct 2017 15:15:57 +0000 (UTC) From: Ronald Shearing Subject: Starting with Simone Part 5 TG Starting with Simone - Part 5 Nifty / transgender / teen Legal stuff. This story is fiction and is for mature readers only. If it is not legal to read this story in your jurisdiction, or if you are not over the age of 18, please close this page now. Please note, I am always delighted to receive feedback. Feel free to email me at Ronald DOT Shearing AT yahoo DOT com. If you haven't done already, please do read Parts 1 through 4. Fetish alert. These tales include more than a passing reference to smoking fetishism. If this is a problem for you, please don't read any further. Lastly, as always in my preambles, I would like to take time to remind you that if you enjoy accessing erotic literature on nifty, please donate to nifty at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. Without nifty, we would not have such a great place to share such exciting stories. Let's continue... Sunday dragged horribly. I even thought of texting Simon/Simone but couldn't quite pluck up the courage. Then at around 10pm the thing I just did not want to contemplate, happened. My phone buzzed. "mom cartrouble. Not going to aunts. Tmrw canceled. S. I will text U later" Fucking hell. I was distraught. Worse was to follow. "I go to dads Tuesday for 3 days. Back Friday. Meet to chat Fri night, will txt. S. x." I felt like my world had fallen apart. I also felt like crying. Simone's sister Wendy was back from France next weekend. What would we do about our illicit meetings? Where would we have sex? When would we next even have sex? The priorities of a 16-year-old boy. I told myself to man up, and texted back. "See you Friday. Let me know where and when. R" I went straight to bed in a stinking mood, wondering if I could just sleep all the way through to Friday. My bleak Monday was taken up by chores mom had given me, and I threw myself enthusiastically into the work as it helped pass the time quickly. It was a way of not thinking about stuff too hard. Next morning mom was amazed when I started tidying up the front garden unprompted. Around 11:30am I took a break from weeding the front flowerbeds. I looked up as a car, a recent model dark blue Pontiac Grand Am, pulled up across the street. My heart skipped a beat as Simon, wearing the gray hoody and a pair of blue jeans, ran around and opened the rear passenger door. Simon threw in a red sports bag, and with a quick glance over and a very slight wave of his hand in my direction, entered the car using the front passenger door. I hadn't noticed mom approach with a can of Coke. "Bad old Jimmy Blount. He messed Janice around so badly", mom said, as she passed me the cold can. "His new wife's not much older than Wendy. I'm surprised Simon still agrees to visit. I guess Janice needs the time on her own. She hasn't been the same since Jimmy left, and it's been what, getting on 4 years?". With that comment mom turned around and headed back into the house. The rest of the day dragged a little. When mom went to the store I couldn't even muster up the energy to watch some porno. I felt really depressed. When mom came home it was getting dark, and she shouted me to the front porch. "Ronnie, could you do me a big favor, please?" I looked at mom expectedly. "Janice, Mrs. Blount, says her internet has stopped working. She thinks it's the booster, or the rooster thing, whatever it's called. She asked if you could go help get it back as Simon's away, and she's totally clueless on computers. I told her you were an expert". I was startled, and mom noticed the weird look on my face. "C'mon honey. I know you've been working hard, but it would be really sweet if you could help Janice out. Especially since you and Simon are now friends." My heart skipped a beat. Mom finished, "I'm going to drive over to Mrs. Gilchrist's and keep her company for a couple of hours." Mrs. Gilchrist was an old widow who had been a friend of my grandma. My grandma had passed away a few years prior. Mom would go over every couple of weeks and sit and chat and generally make sure Mrs. Gilchrist was OK. It was about a 15-minute drive from our house to Mrs. Gilchrist's. They'd watch TV, mom would usually get home around 11. "OK", I said, maybe too nervously I thought, as mom gave me a peculiar look. I waited until the red tail lights of mom's Camry turned the corner at the end of our road, and walked over to Simone's front porch. I nervously rang the doorbell. I heard footsteps approaching the door. Mrs. Blount opened the door. I swallowed. She was wearing a deep blue satin blouse, open to reveal her more than ample cleavage. Silver choker necklace. Tight black short skirt, smooth sleek bare tanned legs, which ended at the foot in black and silver open toed platform pumps. I looked down and could see Mrs. Blount had painted her toenails alternately yellow and red, and as I glanced at her hands I could see matching long red and yellow fingernails. Mrs. Blount had straight platinum blond hair (dyed, I knew she was a natural brunette like Simon and Wendy, she'd been a blonde only since last year's holiday season). Her makeup was very artfully done, a dark foundation and subtly blended rouge, her blue eyes accentuated with a misty gray eye shadow. I could see where Simone got her prettiness from. "Come on in, don't just stand there, I need you to look at something for me!" I followed Mrs. Blount into the living room, closing the front door behind me. Mrs. Blount paused by the coffee table by the couch, the couch where Simone and I had first fucked. Bending down she picked up and shook a green pack of Newports. Under her breath, "Fuck, empty", then looking over at me, she added more loudly, "One minute, Ronald". Mrs. Blount headed into the kitchen, then walked back in tearing the cellophane off a fresh pack of Newports. She quickly raised a fresh cigarette from the new pack to her lips and clicked her lighter on. With a deep exhale of smoke towards the ceiling, Mrs. Blount spoke again. "Ronald, seems I've got a problem. A computer problem. Well maybe a computer problem, could be bigger". Not suspecting anything untoward, I helpfully jumped in, "Mrs. Blount, your router will be down here near your phone line. Can you show me ..." Mrs. Blount cut me off, "No Ronald, my computer problem is most definitely UPSTAIRS". She motioned with her head to the stairway, taking another deep drag on her Newport, exhaling the smoke this time through the side of her mouth. Each time Mrs. Blount drew on her cigarette, the orange tip would tilt upwards in a stiff upward movement. I was starting to get turned on, even though I was mentally trying hard not to. A quizzical look as I stood gawping. "Ronald, upstairs, I need to show you my problem UPSTAIRS." That was twice now Mrs. Blount had stressed the word "upstairs". I was starting to feel a bit uneasy, which at least had the benefit of stemming the flow of blood to my visibly stiffening cock. "Follow me", and after turning around to pick up an ashtray, Mrs. Blount headed to the bottom of the stairway. I watched Mrs. Blount's gorgeous ass slowly sashay up the stairs. I took another deep gulp and followed. Mrs. Blount was the definition of the term MILF. Before I go on, it's worth mentioning that in the aftermath of Simon's dad leaving home for his new younger model girlfriend, Mrs. Blount had put a lot of weight on. I'd often heard mom talk about it with my father. My own dad hadn't upped sticks at that point. Mrs. Blount would often have coffee with mom over at ours, and I suddenly remembered that Mrs. Blount was the only person mom would let smoke in our house. When I'd asked mom about it, she'd replied that it was OK as it calmed Mrs. Blount's nerves and helped keep her weight down. Since then, Mrs. Blount had lost all her added pounds. And then some. There was no denying she had a truly fabulous figure. Spectacular in fact. Simone had got the looks from his mom. Wendy had got the tits. I followed Mrs. Blount into her bedroom where I knew the desktop PC was located. I noticed a different bedspread to when Simone and I had enjoyed each other's bodies on this very bed just a few days before. This one was darker, shinier. "Right, Ronald, let's show you my problem". Mrs. Blount leaned over the keyboard and pressed a key. My breathing stopped suddenly. No. NO. This was not happening! This. Was. Not. Fucking. Happening. TO ME! Full screen. Me. Simone's cock. In my mouth. I started hyperventilating, I started to gasp, I tried to say something, noises not words. Mrs. Blount's voice brought me briefly back to my senses. "Ronald, I want you to stay calm, but I also want you to SHUT the FUCK up". A loud stress on "shut" and "fuck". Mrs. Blount went on. "Firstly, I need to apologize to you. Then later I'll apologize to your mom". I almost started to shout, "No! You can't tell mom... I " "Quiet Ronald! Quiet, or you'll make things a lot worse. Ssshhhh". I realized it was better if I did what I was told so I stopped making any sound. My heart was pounding. Looking down, Mrs. Blount noticed her cigarette was done. She threw the butt in the ashtray, and automatically lit another Newport. Mrs. Blount then showed me another photo. Simone smiling at the camera, Marlboro in her fingers, my hard cock inches from Simone's lips. My favorite picture. "Ronald, that's your cock, right?" I saw no point in lying, she'd have seen all the pictures anyway. I nodded and quietly said yes. Mrs. Blount took a drag of her Newport from the right-hand side of her mouth, expelled a jet of smoke from the same spot, and continued. She looked quite calm, which added to my confusion. "Ronald, I need to explain something to you. But I have to ask you some questions first, OK?' I quietly nodded my assent. "You're not gay, right? I mean you used to date Margaret Jorgensen's girl, Dorothy, yeah?" A further deep pull on the Newport then a flick of a long piece of ash into the ashtray. "I'm not gay", I said, a little too loudly. "But you see Ronald, Simon makes boys gay. It's a deliberate tactic. He pretends to be a girl, he gets you all hot and bothered, and then you surrender. You always surrender". I was starting to get even more confused, and the look on my face must have said as much. Mrs. Blount gave me a sympathetic look, then she continued. "It's always the same. Simon gets you boys going, and your little cocks, or in your case Ronald, your not so little cock, it always ends up with you all falling into Simon's fucking sick honeypot trap." Another brief pause as she pulled on her Newport. "You assholes fall for it every time". I felt forced to jump in at this point, Simone and me, it hadn't happened like that. "But Mrs. Blount, it's not like that, I totally surprised Simone, she was, I, we met by accident... "I couldn't get my words straight. I thought at first Mrs. Blount was screaming in anger. She threw her head back in the air, but I soon realized it was uncontrollable, breathless, almost maniacal laughter that was issuing from Mrs. Blount's mouth. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. RONALD! You CANNOT be that FUCKING STUPID!" The laughing had now gone a tone lower, almost like Mrs. Blount was having difficulty breathing, or was having a seizure. Catching her breath, Mrs. Blount looked at me and silently shook her head. A final deep puff on her Newport as she regained her composure and stubbed the cigarette out. "Ronald, I'm sorry. Please go with me on this one, please hear me all the way out. I'm going to tell you what happened last Monday, I think I can guess. We don't have security cameras, but we might as well have. I'm going to tell you pretty much exactly what happened, and how. If I'm wrong, OK, you carry on as you please, we forget all of this. But if I'm right, you need to stop being fucking manipulated by my teenage sexual predator son." I was shocked. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I opened my mouth, but Mrs. Blount shushed me. I noticed that Mrs. Blount had a glass of amber liquid on her bedside table, which she leaned over and picked up, before lifting the glass up to her pink lips. Taking a sip, she grimaced slightly. In a low voice, "That Scottish fucker wasn't so good in the sack, but I'll thank him my whole life for introducing me to Single Malt. Scotch, the water of life". Mrs. Blount lit another Newport. I noticed the pink lighter was the one Simone had been using on Friday night. "OK Ronald, let's see what a good fucking mind reader I am. Monday afternoon, your mom asks you to bring my Tagine over. You try the doorbell, there's no reply." I noticed I'd started to blink nervously. "So, let's see. Girl Simon is sitting reading a magazine on the porch. It's usually Cosmopolitan. I've got a subscription. You bump into each other, laugh. It's usually timed so Simon's trip from the front window to the back-porch results in a coming together on the porch. Cute girl Simon asks you in to put the Tagine in the kitchen. Hot girl Simon then asks you to sit on the couch. Pretty soon, I guess there's a kiss, then a few licks at your nice-looking cock, and then the grand FUCKING finale, you ass fuck little innocent cute little confused little SIMONE!" I was stunned, and I gasped audibly. "But, but, how did Simone know I was bringing the..." "Ronald! Come FUCKING on! Are you really that fucking stupid? I told Simon to wait in because your mom told me you'd be bringing it over that afternoon, and I was getting my nails done. Simon knows my nails take four fucking hours. He's quite a clever little cutie-pie. Clever enough to entrap you anyway". My heart sank. I was in a daze, literally, I could see stars in front of my eyes. Mrs. Blount stood up, the Newport dangling from her mouth briefly as she rearranged her short skirt that had moved up her waist slightly. I caught a brief look at Mrs. Blount's toned belly. Mrs. Blount smoothly removed the cigarette from her mouth, a thin band of concentrated tobacco smoke following behind her fingertips. "Ronald, I really am truly sorry. I apologize for not seeing this coming. It's one thing to seduce some male slut I pick up online, and I mean I mostly don't bring them here anymore because of Simon's scheming, I'm the one does most of the house calls now. Or the staged so called accidental meetings on the back porch when he's got some guy hooked online and invites him over to "hang out". But the son of a friend, a neighbor, I'm sorry. It's not acceptable, and I'm going to have to personally apologize to your mom tomorrow." Mrs. Blount took a step towards the bedroom door, then paused. "Wait right there!" she commanded. "I'm getting another drink. Have a cigarette if you want". I muttered about not being a smoker, but Mrs. Blount was already headed downstairs to her liquor cabinet. It was hard for me to take all this in. Simone had set me up? How? Why? And the feelings I had, they felt so strong. And I'd sensed Simone had feelings towards me too. It felt true. I was her first crush. Wasn't I? This was totally fucked up. I found myself staring at the modern art painting on the wall above the bed, the one that looked like an out-of- focus nude. I didn't notice Mrs. Blount walk back into the bedroom. "Ah, so you like my painting?" Mrs. Blount asked, rousing me out of my dreamlike, or more like nightmare-like state. "Another unexpected benefit of a casual liaison, like the Scotch. It was when I was brunette. John Pierre painted me on the couch downstairs. I must say though, I'd hoped a virile young artist would have been more imaginative in bed. Maybe he saved his best moments for Simon". What? I realized now that the painting was of a blurred naked brunette Mrs. Blount. I shakily started to speak, "Mrs. Blount..." "Janice", she quickly interrupted, "Call me Janice please, Ronald". "I'm all mixed up, please, please don't tell my mom", I pleaded pathetically. "Ronald, c'mon, over here look at these". I slid closer up the bed to near the PC. What Mrs. Blount showed me next sunk me deeper into a dark depression. Firstly, a jpeg movie. Simone, dressed like a cheerleader, the shot of Simone from the side as she frantically pumped the ass of what looked like a fair-haired mid-20s looking guy wearing a "Zorro" type mask and what looked like riding boots, nothing else. There was sound, the guy groaning on each thrust. Simone releasing loud "Ah" sounds with each rhythmic thrust of her pelvis. Carla urging on Simone on, "Fuck him good baby, fuck him good. Give that bitch what he deserves". Simone looking more violent, much angrier than I'd ever seen her. The movie stopped. "My artist friend", was all Mrs. Blount said. Mrs. Blount then switched to a still photo. Carla and Simone both standing smoking, on his knees, a guy with very short hair who looked about 18, eagerly sucking on Simone's cock. I could see a black eagle tattoo on his shoulder. Simone smiling at the camera. That smile. It broke my heart. Mrs. Blount clicked X to close the picture. This left the photo of smoking Simone and my cock visible, pretty much full screen. Before continuing, Mrs. Blount asked me a question. "Ronald, did you fuck the DeFazio girl?" I looked back at Mrs. Blount blankly. She went on, "Carla? Carla DeFazio. That fucking freaky fat blonde whore you could see in the picture just now". I shamefully nodded yes. "I thought as much. Dorothy Jorgenson, did you fuck her?" Dorothy. Dottie Mae. I blushed but I felt compelled to answer. Mrs. Blount was fully in control. "No". "Hhhmm, interesting. Maybe Wendy was right when she told me Dorothy was a lesbian". Before that latest thought could sink in to my jumbled teenage mind, I almost jumped out of my skin when the phone on the bedside table rang loudly. Mrs. Blount picked up. I listened into one half of the conversation. "That's good, Simon. Drive was OK? Some holdups on 95, right, OK, yes, OK. Where'd you get food? That's near Boston I think. Yes. OK. OK." I stopped breathing for a couple of seconds. Mrs. Blount took out another Newport and lit up, holding the cigarette in the right side of her mouth so she could keep talking. "Nothing much, I'm going to bed in a few minutes. I've had a couple of Scotches, you know how they make me sleepy". Mrs. Blount was looking at me, immediately after saying sleepy she silently mouthed the word "horny" at me and smiled. My heart nearly stopped. "OK, tell him Friday no later than 7pm. Wendy flies in from Paris Saturday morning and you're navigating us to JFK. And he stays in the car. And he doesn't bring that bitch". Mrs. Blount took a nonchalant drag on her cigarette, held the smoke in her lungs for 2 or 3 seconds, as she listened to whatever Simon was saying at the other end of the line. She finally exhaled, "OK, and tell your dad's bitch I hope she gets AIDS. Byeeee". Mrs. Blount put the phone down. "Well Ronald, that was SIMONE I guess". A cheeky smile. A deep drag on the Newport, then Mrs. Blount took a large mouthful of her Scotch. "Mrs. Blount, I mean Janice, my mom, I ..." "Ronald, ssssshhhh". Janice put the Newport in the ashtray, and put her index finger gently on my lips. I realized I'd been sitting on the bed pretty much the whole time I'd been in the bedroom. Mrs. Blount was now sitting very close to me. "I'm sorry about Simon. I really feel I need to apologize to your mom for my son messing you up. But maybe if I can just make things right, make you feel less bad, then maybe I don't have to say anything". A confused look crossed my face, and before I knew what was happening, Mrs. Blount, Janice, leaned in and started to kiss me passionately. I responded, the slight minty taste of tobacco filled my mouth, mingling with a bitter oaky taste of what must have been the Scotch. Janice tugged my T-shirt upwards, almost ripping it over my head. I could feel her long nails lightly scratching my flesh. The feel of the blue satin blouse against my own smooth torso took me even higher. Janice pushed me back onto the bed. In no time, my jeans were down at my ankles, and I eased my trainers off with my feet. I could hear Janice say, "Fuck, this is even nicer in the flesh", then she enclosed my glans in her warm mouth. This felt amazing. My mind was a blank, I was concentrating on nothing but the sensations I could feel through the end of my cock. Janice paused to kick off her shoes, then swiftly unzipped her short skirt. I was stunned to see that Janice had been wearing no panties. I could now see that she had a neatly trimmed brown bush. The blouse was discarded on the floor a few seconds later, and with a swift movement behind her back, the black lacy bra was discarded and Janice's fantastic breasts swung free. Fuck, these were perfection, large brown areolae, perfect dark brown nipples poking out from within those massive brown circles. They were bigger than Carla's. More rounded than Carla's. A perfect rippling of her tit flesh occurred as Janice moved to free herself from her necklace which she violently threw across the room. Janice leaned over and dangled her tits about an inch from my mouth. I needed no invitation and started to greedily suck on them which coaxed a low moan out of Janice's mouth. Janice jerked her tits free, and in one deft movement slid her pussy upwards to re-occupy my eager mouth. She pushed her cunt down firmly onto my face and as I licked as hard as I could, I thought I was going to faint. Janice was really moaning loudly now. After about 60 seconds, Janice disengaged and moved from the bottom end of the bed to a more normal position, lying on her back, with her head on a pillow. She beckoned me to join her. "Time for me to make this right. Fuck me Ronald, fuck me. Be a man." she said. I climbed aboard in the missionary position, and with a dig of her exquisite nails into my ass my cock jerked forward into Janice's snatch. "Ooooooooooooooohhh!" she moaned. I lifted myself slightly on my arms for maximum torque and started pumping away. Janice started to moan again, with each thrust she'd get louder. I felt the coming eruption building in the base of my cock. I think Janice sensed it too because it made her dig her nails harder into my ass cheeks. With a voiceless moan, I came. I opened my eyes briefly to see Janice underneath me, smiling, gasping for breath, staring with her eyes wide straight into my eyes. I shuddered as the last of my come left the tip of my prick. After a pause of about 15 seconds I pulled my wet cock out, and turned towards the computer. Still there covering the screen was Simone smiling, the trail of smoke from her Marlboro suspended in time, and the pixelated cock I'd just pleasured Simone's mother with standing rigid, so close to the girl I now had even more mixed up emotions for. I felt ashamed, it was like Simone had just watched me fuck her mom. I went into the en-suite bathroom to cleanup. When I came back in to fix my clothes up, Mrs. Blount, Janice, was relaxing smoking another Newport, and looking at her fingers which she had used to smear my come out of her cunt. She looked over at me and seductively licked all my seed off of her fingers. Just like Simone had done. Mrs. Blount pointed at me with the orange tip of her cigarette. "Ronald, if I didn't know your mom was going to be home soon, I'd tie you to this bed and fuck ten shades of white out of you. Better be going." I frantically re-dressed and practically fell down the stairs as I rushed to leave. Behind me I heard Mrs. Blount calling, "Be good now Ronald. I don't want to have to tell your mom that Simon has messed you up. NO repeats". I closed the front door firmly behind me. Luckily there was no sign of mom's Camry, and as I got back inside my own house I sighed with relief that there'd be no awkward debrief about fixing Mrs. Blount's perfectly functioning internet. I took a quick shower. As I rolled my jeans and t-shirt up to put them in the laundry all I could smell was the remnants of slightly mint cigarette smoke. I suddenly realized that I hadn't taken my phone out of my pocket. Retrieving it, my heart jumped. In front of me a text message. "Missing playing with you. Let's meet Friday night. S" To be continued