Uncle Frank was married to my mum’s sister. He was about 10 years older than Aunt May, and it was both their second marriages. Uncle Frank had an Italian father, French mother, three older sisters, loads of nephews and nieces, and had property in Kensington, the Algarve, and Telluride. You could say he was quite wealthy.
They had met in the early 1970’s, and spent their wild and wonderful life traveling the world together. They had no children to worry about, as May couldn’t have any, and were only in England for a few months of the year. He was well educated, wore Savile Row fitted suits, Italian leather shoes, and just oozed charm, style and panache. Just think of a European David Niven. without the moustache, and you’ll get the picture.
He was about 6′ 1″, slim and fit (an avid squash player and horse rider), had a full head of platinum grey hair, brown eyes, and well manicured hands. He and May were fabulous dance partners, and other couples would often stop just to watch them Waltz, Quickstep or even tango. He was the most perfect host, delighted all his guests with exquisite dinner parties, and would often regale us with stories of the Indian sub-continent, the far east, the Australian outback and the Canadian wilderness. Sunday lunches were always a must, and everyone wanted to be invited!
All that came to an end however, when Aunt May passed away from Cancer. It was a quick and sudden end, and everyone was devastated, especially Uncle Frank. The next few months were turmoil for him, and the whole family were concerned for his well being. Things though got better for Uncle Frank, as time passed, and though he was still wonderful company, you could see that there was a darkness in his life now. An unknown, a huge void to fill. A shame really!
My sister, bless her, asked me pay Uncle Frank a visit, as I was the one that lived closest. I phoned, and suggested a movie or perhaps dinner. Uncle Frank saw through my lame attempt to check up on him, but still agreed to my request. In fact, he suggested forgetting the movie, and instead visiting one of his favourite Italian restaurants just around the corner from Harrods. He even asked if I wanted to stay the night, so I wouldn’t have to worry about drinking and driving. Great idea!
The evening was a fabulous success. Uncle Frank was in his element, and we both got sozzled on some wonderful vino. On our return home, we chatted some more, cured the world’s problems, had a few large Calvadoses, and I promptly feel asleep on his leather chesterfield.
During the night, I had my customary pee, took a bottle of San Pellegrino from the fridge, and returned to the living room. Uncle Frank had left a light on, and my curiosity got the better of me. The room was full of wonderful paintings, persian carpets, antique furniture, a Zenith gramophone player, and a marble fire place.
He had a huge mahogany desk on one side and shelves full of books on the other. Well, nearly all full of books, as I noticed a few videos visible on one shelf.
On further investigation, I found that they were Uncle Franks porn collection, and not just any porn at that! Uncle Frank liked…..Tranny porn. There were a few of them too, and even more when you pulled one out to find others stashed away behind. Oh fuck, no wonder Frank and May had visited Thailand so many times. Images of them watching Lady boys sprung to mind, and a very naughty idea started to creep into my mind. A plan started to form.
Uncle Frank didn’t know about my Velvet side. No one in the family did. I hadn’t confided in anyone, but somehow I just thought Uncle Frank would just adore Velvet. It was a terrible risk for me to take, and if he rejected me, and told others in the family, my life would be ruined, and I would be surely ostracised by most members of the family. Still, I had always been his “favorite” nephew, had confided in him before, regarding “girls”, and was willing to take the risk.
One thing I remembered though, was that the morning after I stayed, when I went home, Uncle Frank had given me a very warm and sensitive hug goodbye. I had liked that!
After a week or so of planning and tossing things over in my mind, I phoned Uncle Frank again, with the pretext of mentioning how much I had enjoyed the other evening, and was he up for another? “Of course I am” he told me, and asked if I was free the following Friday. Date and time was agreed, and pleasantries exchanged.
I managed to get some time off work, and spent a day or so shopping for that Killer “little black dress”, new lingerie, and some cheap accessories to match. I also bought an ankle-length black chiffon negligee, to wear over the LBD, to create a really sexy look! As Velvet I’m 5′ 7″ in stockinged feet, a 14 (UK) top, 12 bottom, take a European size 39 shoe (yeah….jealous huh!), and can just about buy everything from your normal high street shop. Lucky me!
A couple of days later, I got a call from Uncle Frank explaining that he may be a little late getting home on that Friday as he had to visit his solicitors across town in the afternoon. Would I like to arrive later, or take a “rain check” as our American friends say. I quickly replied that I was now having an Interview nearby to where he lived, and would it be possible for me to come a little earlier? Uncle Frank said he had the perfect solution, and he would leave a set of keys under the 3rd plant pot, so I could let myself in, and make myself at home. Fabulous! I could now go there by train, dress when I got there, and wouldn’t have to worry about parking. It helped my plan enormously.
Come the appointed day, I had my usual long soak in the bath, shaved all the necessary bits, used half a tube of Veet, and made sure I was as smooth as silk. I spent hours ( yes…I did..honest!) deciding what to take, leave behind, what would be useful and what extras to bring. I packed an overnight bag, had a late lunch, and set off on my adventure to Uncle Frank’s.
On arrival, my heart was beating like a drum, and my stomach was churning with a mixture of fear and apprehension. Was I nuts? Did I know what I was doing? I could stop now, and just go home before any damage was done.
I headed for his drinks cabinet, downed a large brandy, and psyched myself up with “come on Velvet, just fuckin’ do it!”
I found the spare bedroom, and Uncle Franks bathroom mirror (blimey Aunt May…brill!) and started the transformation from boy-me to Velvet.
I just loveeeee the feeling of Cuban heeled fully fashioned stockings, with a gorgeous suspender belt, on freshly shaved smooth legs. Don’t you? (Oh fuck ,do ya know, I could almost make myself cum by just putting them on!) After that, I slipped on a tight thong, and over that a gorgeous pair of black lace knickers. Mmmm, yummy!
My corset followed, which is always a nightmare to do up by yourself, but after “two falls and a submission” I managed to reach the desired level of tightness.
Okay then, next was makeup time, the part I always love doing. Today I use Mac, which I just adore, but back then I used a variety of products such a Estee Lauder, Revlon and L’Oreal.
I used a good concealer, followed by foundation, and powder to dry. I brushed it all in, and touched up any necessary blemishes. Three shades of eye shadow followed, to highlight my blue eyes, and well as black eyeliner, false lashes, and a bit of “da Vinci” work on my eyebrows. Strange, I was always crap at art at school, but somehow applying makeup didn’t phase me at all!
My lips are always painted either pink or deep red, followed by a couple of layers of gloss. I chose red this time as I wanted to convey that “come n’ snog me look”. I love doing that “bow” thing on the top lip as well and have pretty much perfected it over the years.
Blush was added, to give my cheeks that hollow look, and I returned to the bedroom to finishing dressing. My bra (36C) followed, stuffed with silicone breasts, to give me a good frame, and I always get a kick out of having titties to show. Then I slipped on the LBD. It was a fabulous dress, tight fitting, sleeveless, so I could wear it just off the shoulders (fuck, I find women’s shoulders so sexy, the off-the-shoulder look just makes me melt!). It also had a small split at the back, was figure hugging, and projected the “smart tart” look that I love. Sexy, but classy. Demure, but provocative…yowser!
Jewelery I hear you say. Well, I put some bangles on one arm, a large silver bracelet on the other, followed by a pearl necklace (No boys, not that kind of pearl necklace, yet!). Large silver hooped earrings followed, and some cheap, but gorgeous rings. Nails were painted which took ages, and I was useless at doing my right hand (thank god I wear false ones now), and after they had dried, I slipped on my chiffon negligee.
I then put on my shoes. A pair of black “fuck me” four inch stilettos, with open toes, that are just fabulous to wear and accentuate my legs to perfection. Perfect! I’ve been told by more than one or two, that when I’m dressed as Velvet, I had legs to die for.
Finally, back to the bathroom, and to put on my hair. This is a sort of ritual for me. It defines the end of the boy-me, and the emergence of Velvet. It’s when I know, that I am now her, and it’s a huge thing for me.
Remember the “hair” scene in the Shawshank Redemption? Well that’s what I try and create for me, and not for a bunch of sex starved inmates (mind you, there’s an Idea!!)
Whoosh….it was on. A few flicks here, a wave of the brush there, and this gorgeous woman was starring back at me in the mirror. I thought I looked awesome, gorgeous, and sexy, but you are never sure. There is always doubt. Always fear that the image you project is one of a man…in a dress. An imposter, a pervert, desperate to be noticed, and everyone laughing at you.
Fuck, (as I shook my head) more Dutch courage was required. I went down stairs, raided the drinks cabinet, again. Knocked back another brandy, gave myself a good talking to, and proceeded to get things ready for Uncle Frank’s arrival home. The drinks cabinet surrendered up a full bottle of Bombay gin, and a bottle or vermouth, and on the way to the kitchen I found some martini glasses, a cocktail shaker, and a bottle of tonic, just in case martini’s were not welcomed. I found a lemon and jar of olives were in the fridge, all the ingredients required for a perfect ice-breaker!
I returned back to the lounge, drew the curtains, dimmed the lights, fluffed up the cushions (yeah I know. Put on a dress and that does happen!), put some Nat King Cole on. Mmm, fabulous!
I looked at the clock, and it was approaching 6pm. Uncle Frank would be home any minute. I spent the next nervous minutes questioning my sanity, wondering what the fuck I was doing there. Oh god, so many negative thoughts.
At about 6.10, I heard Uncle Frank outside exchanging pleasantries with a passing neighbour. That gave me time to shimmy over to the front door and wait.
He entered, and was greeted with the sight of me, posing. A hand on hip and another behind my head.
As I looked into his brown eyes, I let the negligee slip from my shoulders to the floor, slowly walked up to him, put my arms around his neck, and asked him if he liked what he saw?
He just dropped his coat, put an arm round my waist, and kissed me, Clark Gable style (don’t ya just love that?)
We he came up for air, I repeated the question, and asked him if I was okay, if I was passable.
He just put a finger under my chin, lifted my head back, only this time when he kissed me, he slid his tongue deep down my throat. I took that as a “yes” then.
All those worries, all those dreadful thoughts, all my apprehensions, just disappeared in an instant.
Uncle Frank liked Velvet. A lot!
Whilst he went upstairs to change, I headed for the kitchen to make the martinis. On his return, Frank was wearing a white silk shirt, dark navy blue slacks, Italian loafers, and a black cashmere cardigan, which he left unbuttoned. He looked so handsome, so elegant, so sexy.
We spent ages sipping our drinks, chatting about Velvet, and why I had followed that particular path. He asked why I had taken such a risk of revealing myself to him. I told him about discovering his video collection, and remembering his numerous trips to Thailand, and so put two and two together. I also told him about how much I admired, respected, and liked him as my male persona, but how much I fancied him as Velvet.
In return, he told me about life with Aunt May, their wonderful sex life, and their sexual adventures, which I found an extreme turn-on (Aunt May, you hussy!). How much they both enjoyed the Lady boys of Bangkok, and how they both adored transsexuals and transvestites. He told me about his new girl-friend Gina. She was half Italian also, but their relationship was based purely on sexual pleasure. Mind you, he said, when she got going, she could ride a cock better than Lester Piggott riding a Derby winner!
As he talked, I inched myself closer to him, and started to touch him more. Subtly at first, removing a piece of lint here, a hair there, until I was stroking the back on his neck. In the meantime, his hand was caressing the top of my thigh, which made me shudder in ecstacy.
The aroma of his cologne, together with his touch, finally got the better of me, and I started to stroke his cock through his slacks. Light kisses on his lips soon followed, as did the increase in the swelling of his cock.
I carefully eased myself down into a squat position, looked up into his eyes, and slowly, very slowly, unzipped him.
I readjusted his slacks, slid my hand into his shorts, and eased his cock out.
Oh fuck, it was massive!
A throbbing length of silky, veiny, cut cock, with a bulbous, purple helmet head. It must have been a good 10 inches long, and very thick. I just opened my mouth, and let it rest on my tongue, and gently eased it to the back of my throat.
I sucked on it, wanked it, and covered it with a string of saliva. I cupped his hairy balls, squeezed them, and licked his shaft from tip to base. All the time keeping eye contact as I devoured this gorgeous piece of meat in my mouth.
Frank leant back against his breakfast bar, and stared to moan ever so gently. He continued to do so as I slurped even more. The cock completely filled my mouth, and loads of saliva was leaking out. The more saliva I covered it with, the easier it was to wank. Oh god, it was delicious. I wanked, sucked, and slurped on him, until I began to notice the tell tale signs of his fast approaching climax.
He was standing on tip-toe now, and the muscles in his legs started to get rigid. As he pressed back against the bar counter, I could feel his balls beginning to swell, and his breathing became more erratic. He was close.
I summed up the energy for one final effort, my mouth aching like fuck, my cheeks burning as I squeezed his balls with one hand, and pressed a lubed finger against his anal button with the other, and gently caressed it.
I didn’t have to wait long for a response. His moans became louder, mixed with shrills of “yes, yes, yessss”. A hand was behind my head forcing me to take his cock deeper. I increased the strength of my sucking and the pace of wanking until I knew he was ready to cum.
A moment later, he climaxed and erupted. He spunked a huge amount of thick creamy cum into my mouth. As his cock continue to pulse, I couldn’t swallow quickly enough, and so much of it escaped from my mouth, ran down my chin and splashed onto my chest. Uncle Frank loved watching that happen.
When his “beast” had finally finished erupting, I gently stood up, so Uncle Frank could see me covered in globules of spunk. I had swallowed so much, but there was still loads of it everywhere. I leant forward and kissed Uncle Frank, and just said to him….
“Come on Frank, take me upstairs…. and fuck me!”