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What A Girlfriend Wants - Part 1
🕑 Added 2022-05-23 11:38:29 +0000 UTCALL STORY LIST | PARTS - PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5
Autor - Ashil.K
My father is a construction tycoon and builds preponderantly commercial properties all over Kentucky and Indiana; he is also a tobacco grower. The construction and tobacco businesses go back at least three, and maybe four generations. Here in Kentucky people have the choice of any combination of three vices they wish to partake in Bourbon, tobacco, and racehorses.
My father, Frank Jeremy Taylor, was born in Covington, Kentucky Covington is located at the confluence of the Ohio and Licking Rivers and has a population of approximately forty thousand. After college, the U.S. had just entered WWII and he joined the Navy and served as an officer in the CBs (Construction Battalion). Dad is a big man, commanding 6’3” and 280+ pounds. He had a deep voice is always clean-shaven and always sports a crew-cut haircut. Physical hard work was never an issue for him. Mother to was also born in Covington. Her maiden name is Susanna “Suzy” Lee Walker. She degree in nutrition but has always been an at-home mom. She was petite 5’ 3” and was raised as a Southern lady. Mom and dad were childhood sweethearts. If fact, they attended the same schools; and they married soon after dad returned from the war.
I was born Thomas Robert Taylor and raised here in Covington, Kentucky. It is about a 15-minute drive to Cincinnati; to Lexington and Frankfort around an hour and a half; and a bit longer to Louisville. For as long as I can remember I worked with my Dad on weekends, holidays, and summers I was basically a general laborer for my father’s construction company doing various jobs and in his tobacco fields and barns because my dad wanted me to experience all aspects of his businesses. I will eventually inherit his businesses and continue his legacy. I am now almost 21 and just graduated with a double major from the UK in construction management and agriculture and minored in architecture.
Let's start with my story.
It was a partly sunny early morning with the smell of honeysuckle vines aroma in the air. The temperature was in the mid to high 70s with a light breeze on a June Saturday morning. Dew was still covering the bluegrass that generating a low ground fog in the lower areas. I was out on one of my monthly chores to out check the fences, buildings, and locks and look for any fallen trees on the roads; plus, to check if there were any illegal hunting blinds set up that needed removed on my parent’s property. I thought I knew every inch of my parent's 100+ acre land along the Ohio River for all these years. Just as the ground fog was just lifting, I noticed in the distance what appeared to be a house secluded by tall magnolia and poplar trees at the end of an overgrown dirt road. It appeared to be once a nice-looking house with a large walk-around veranda on each floor.
Getting closer, I noticed it was in desperate need of a good paint job. It was three stories and had a red brick exterior and surrounding the house was a faded white-washed picket fence with honeysuckle vines entangled around it. There was also a nearby big building that I assumed was a garage or shed. Further back was a dilapidated barn that had a faded Mail Pouch (chewing) Tobacco advertisement painted on it I wasn’t sure the size of the lot.
I parked my truck around the back and walked around to the front I looked for a key under the doormat and finally found it above the door. As I opened the front door, the hinges creaked. Cobwebs were everywhere and everything was covered in big white sheets that were laden with years of dust. This place was a huge house with 6 bedrooms and unsure of how many baths. Was this an old plantation home? I walked around and peeked under sheets of various items of furniture. The floors were thick heavy oak-looking hardwood and you could follow my trail by my footsteps in the dust.
All of the top two floors appeared to be all bedrooms. One of the rooms must have been a girl’s room from the big four-posted wooden bed that appeared to me to be made from hickory or ash with beautiful relief carving on each post. This was the only room that had assorted women’s clothing in the dressers and chest-of-drawers and cedar-lined closets. In two other rooms, I found windowsill cedar chests that ran the length of the room and were about three feet deep and wide. Each one was filled with more clothing, parasols, and a lot of lady’s hats. All the other bedrooms' closets were empty except for what appeared to be handmade wooden cedar clothes hangers. At the end of the hall to the southwest on the second floor, there was a smaller room. Maybe a sewing or reading room, or perhaps a maid or housekeeper’s quarters.
I walked out back and found a cellar door leading underground and a rusted-over water hand-pump. I tried to move the pump handle, but it was seized up. After about forty-five minutes of browsing, I departed and went to finish my inspections and then back to my parents’ house.
That evening during dinner I asked my parents about the house.
“I don’t really recall.” Dad said, “I’ve completely forgotten about that house since you are out on the property so much these days. I think it may have been leased to my grandfather’s or great-grandfather’s original tobacco plantation foremen. I believe his name was Henry Alexander. I’ve seen the name Hank Alexander on several old black and white photos in a back office. If I recall correctly from old records or been told, he was a master carpenter and may have been a member of the Masons. I don’t recall his wife’s name and think they may have had an infant from other photos I’ve seen. What was her name?” as Dad turned to my mom.
“I really don’t recall either. It was such a such very long time ago. I don’t recall ever meeting them.” Mom replied. “I believe I was told by someone your great-granddad had just finished building that place after he added the two new tobacco barns. Frank, wasn’t his wife a seamstress as well? I’m unsure, so don’t quote me on it. I heard Henry passed a long time ago and I have no idea what became of his wife and their child. I’ve forgotten all about the house too!”
By ritual, each night after dinner dad and I would sit in the living room with our after-dinner bourbon. He said I was close enough to 21 to drink. In fact, he told me that when I was 16 or 17. We’ve had many discussions about me leaving the nest now that I have graduated from college and live on my own – but I would still work for him. Dad put his bourbon and Louisville Times newspaper down and turned toward me.
“Tom, if you want that place it is yours. I haven’t spoken to your mother about it, but I am sure she would always want you to live nearby.” Then thinking for a while he continued. “How’s this sound, I’ll sell you the place for one dollar to make it legal? I will have my inspectors and surveyors look it over to see what needs done to it. I’m sure it will need a new roof, water heater if there is one, new electrical and plumbing and paint for sure. I get the place fixed up to code for you. Would you be interested?
I was shocked at his offer. “Of course. Thanks, dad.” I pulled a wrinkly one-dollar bill out of my wallet and put it next to his bourbon on the table next to the reading lamp. But I still wanted to go back tomorrow and look it over again.
Sunday morning after helping mom clean up after breakfast and doing a few more chores, I headed back to the house this time with a flashlight and a face mask to prevent me from inhaling the dust again. I took a notebook to inventory and sketch the layout of the furniture and other items. Upon arriving I checked out the garage-looking building first. It still had a few tools hanging on the walls; most of them had a light coat of spattered rust on them. Many of the tools I didn’t recognize or what purpose they were designed to be used for. I guess only a Master Mason would know how and what to use them for.
I was still dumbfounded why the only clothes left were those of the mysterious wife or daughter. All the closets in the house all had the back wall made of cedar in them to ward off moths. There were blouses, tops, skirts, and dresses appeared that they were obviously vintage. The top drawer or the first chest of drawers had a few strange-looking bras, not like the molded and lace ones my girlfriend wears — some panties, petticoats, and bloomers. The bras looked more like some sort of chest binding. Each dresser drawer had a lavender-smelling sachet potpourri in them. Was someone still living here? Where are they? What happened to them? Is this house haunted?
There was an overhead ladder that led to the attic. I jumped up and grabbed the thin rope cord and pulled it down and was greeted by an enormous downpour of dust. The mask was not matched the amount of dust. After sneezing, coughing, and blinking a lot to get it out of my eyes I climbed up into the attic. There I was met by a deluge of cobwebs, more thick dust, and miscellaneous items of furniture plus two huge rectangular cedar chests that appeared to be about 6 feet long, four feet wide, and three feet high. I gently wiped the dust off of the top of each chest with my hands. As I opened the first chest the combination of smells of perfume and cedar filled my nostrils. Inside were more lady’s long skirts and blouses.
The second cedar chest also had even more lady’s dresses and a bunch of leather shoes. Along the inside on the left of the second chest, I found an eight by ten black and white photograph of a stunning young lady with dark lightly curled long hair that fell beyond the nape of her neck. On the back, it had the name, ‘Savannah’ written in beautiful cursive handwriting. There was no date anywhere on the photo. I wondered if this was the lady that was in the bedroom on the second floor? Was it Henry’s wife? Their daughter? On the other side of the attic, I found two big other boxes that looked more like old steamer trunks filled with handmade dolls and more assorted items. I took the photograph with me and returned home.
I showed the photograph of the young lady I discovered in the cedar chest to my mom.
‘Tom, I don’t know. I really don’t recognize her. It may very well be Henry’s wife when she was younger, or their child, now all grown up. The only thing I know about them is what I’m heard over the years. She is very beautiful. Being a black and white photo, it could be either his bride or daughter. Sorry, I can’t help you.” Mom handled me back the photograph.
Each evening after work I’d head back to the house to continue to make notes of anything that may need repairs and things I could repair or replace myself. It soon became a long list. My first project was to remove the dust and cobwebs. I took the big commercial wet/dry vacuum and this time a respirator face mask. It took most of the day to remove it. The next day I took a broom and dustpan to remove the rest. The attic was the hardest part to get the dust removed.
The following Saturday I took my girlfriend (hopefully my bride someday) to visit the house with me. Rudimentary electricity was restored, but the house needed complete re-wiring. My girlfriend is Mary Jo Boone. The Boone’s are a well-to-do Kentucky society financial family and has traced their lineage all the way back to Daniel Boone. Dad does his company and personal banking with him. Mary Jo is a petite 5’ 2” and weighs around 100 lbs. She was homecoming queen in both high school and college. Her eyes are a captivating cobalt blue with a light hint of hazel. She has a beautiful soft voice, flowing light brown hair that falls past her shoulder blades, an hourglass figure with the firm 34B breasts, a slim flat belly, and curved hips that hypnotize me when she walks in front of me. Like me, she is an only child.
In contrast, I am just a tad over 5’ 6” and weigh 120. I have a long hairstyle that dad doesn’t care for but appears to tolerate. After all the years of construction work and lifting bundles of tobacco and hay I hoped my muscles would be more jacked, but they weren’t. I guess I inherited my mother’s low-growth genes or something. I looked more like a bookworm than a construction worker. However, I do have six-pack abs.
Mary Jo was so intrigued why only female clothes were there. “Tom, these clothes are absolutely beautiful.” She pulled items out hanger after hanger from the closet and held each item up to her body. “I wonder if these clothes would fit me.” Next, she went and looked in the dresser drawers. “Is this a bra or a binding?? I didn’t think ladies of that era wore bras. These bras must have been hand-made and must have been stated of the art back then!” She said surprised and placed it back in the drawer.
“Try anything on your wish,” I said.
Mary Jo, without any reservation or hesitation, quickly took off her t-shirt and jeans and tried on a few of the dresses blouses, and skirts. “These are so well made. They are too big for me without alterations.”
“There’s more in the attic. I’ll show you.”
Mary Jo quickly slipped into her jeans threw her top over her head and followed me to the attic. I had put the photo back in the cedar chest. I handed it to Mary Jo.
“Oh my gosh Tom, this lady is beautiful. Look how perfect her skin looks. I positive they didn’t do airbrushing back then. Who is she? How old is she? Are these her clothes? How old are these clothes? These clothes are stunning. Oh my gosh, look, more long dresses and gowns.” I could see smiles on her face.
“You are welcome to all of them. I certainly have no need for them. Mom assumes the picture is of the wife or daughter of Henry Alexander,
“Who was he?”
Dad thinks was the original tobacco plantation foremen years ago.
“Tom.” as she looked at me with a smile and said in her irresistible voice. “Will you put this gown on for me so I can see what it looks like? You’re a bit bigger than me and these may fit you better than they do me.”
“What? No. Are you serious? I’m not a crossdresser!”
“I didn’t say you were. Come on. We’re in the attic no one will see you. Please. I’ve never seen so many beautiful vintage clothes in one place in my life. Please, Tom.”
Reluctantly, I took off my work boots, jeans, and long sleeve Gap t-shirt. Mary Jo helped me put the gown on and buttoned the multitude of buttons on the back that rose from my the small of my back up to the neckline. She turned me around and looked me over, then said in her soft voice and a big smile as she nodded,
“Well, I do declare.” (‘I do declare’ is a predominantly Southern term usually spoken by ladies and means to officially or formally affirm something.) You look amazing, Tom. I mean if I fixed you up just a tiny bit, I could easily present you at the next debutant ball.”
“That’s not funny, MJ.” She handed me three more outfits. Soon MJ wanted to go back down to the original bedroom. I was happy to get back in my male clothes and we headed back down to the third floor with her.
“I love this four-post bed. If it were mine, I put the canopy on it.”
“It’s yours, I just bought this house from my dad.”
“Really?’ MJ said very excitedly. “You bought this house from your dad?” Mary Jo ran her delicate narrow fingers of her hands up and down the engravings on one of the tall bedposts closest to the doorway; then turned and commenced rummaging through the closets and chest of drawers like she just discovered a new flea market. “These clothes must all be vintage. Are they? How old are these? Have I already asked you that? Please take your clothes off again.” She said without looking up from the drawer. She pulled out what looked like a bra and held it up against her breasts. “Too old-fashioned for me.” Then she hands it to me. “Please put this on, Tom.”
“What?”
“Please, Tom. Just do it.” My male pride was gone. I really struggled with it putting on the bra.
“How do I put this thing on? I only know how to take these off you.” She gave me a naughty look after that remark then helped me put it on and did some adjustments and stuffed them with vintage linen handkerchiefs. Next, was a full skirt that went to the floor followed by a silk blouse.
“I declare, Tom. You really do make a beautiful southern belle.” Smiled MJ. “These fit you extremely well, except maybe in the waist.”
“Can I please take these off now?”
“Just a minute, there are a few more items I want you to try on.” Well, those few items took over an hour and a half.
“I love dressing you, Tom. I hope you don’t mind. I really find this a lot of fun.” MJ got down on her knees and lifted the dress I had on. She pulled down my jockey shorts. “I see these clothes excited you.” As she pulled out my hard cock and gave me an amazing blow job. “I look forward to dressing you again soon.” She tucked me back into my briefs and stood up with a smile. “So how did they feel?” She asked with a grin.
“The blow-job was incredible.”
“I certainly hope so!” She said adamantly. “I meant how do the clothes feel, silly?”
Fumbling for words since I was still panting and replenishing blood flow to my big head so I could think, “The silk blouse felt soft and smooth.”
Comments
edwin sargent
a very good start
Julia Miller
I guess it depends on the story. It could be anywhere from his girlfriend convinces Tom to cross dress in the clothes to some kind of magical transformation that turns him into a woman. Since we only have old clothes and an old photo ( no magical items) I am assuming it’s the former scenario.
Sandi Shore
Well Julia,… she’s in one effing scary part of the states to do it in. I gave a friend down there,… oooo, the stories! I wonder if “Tom” will Magically change or the old fashion way. Spirits of the house may be strong,…
Julia Miller
It's a good start. I wonder if the clothes will make a woman out of Tom. Only time will tell. She may start to resemble the woman in the old photo.
Sandi Shore
Having spent a chunk of my childhood in a 120+y/o farm house that had much of it’s original furnishings, this story triggered a flood of memories. Including, believe it or not, the granddaughter of my extra grandfather dressing me up a couple times. Ruthie was6 maybe seven years older. I should explain, the owner of the estate was my mom and dad’s landlord. He was an amazing grandfather type. He took a liking to my mom and dad and opened his estate/farm to us for unending summer vacations. He was about 40 miles out of town and this was the 50s,… no freeways, so it took well over an hour to get there. It really did feel like a vacation. We’d spend two weeks at a time there, Three or four times a summer. Just me and my brothers, mom and dad when home to get to work. So yeah, this story has trigger some beautiful memories in me, I love it. Thank you! I can’t wait to see where this goes!
Brianna Demonet
Sounds like Tom and MJ found a new game to play. I wonder if Tom is going to enjoy it, MJ sure does.
