In for a penny, in for a pound

You reach for your mom's makeup bag. Your fingers tremble slightly as you pull out the eye shadow palette, the colors shimmering in the dim light of the room. You carefully select the darkest shade, a deep, sultry gray, and begin to apply it across your lids. The brush strokes are deliberate, each movement precise

You reach for your mom's bright red lipstick. The tube feels cool in your hand. You twist it open, the scent of wax and pigment filling the air, and carefully paint your lips. The color is bold, a stark contrast to the delicate peach white of your natural boyish skin.

As you stand before the mirror, the black babydoll clinging to your curves, you can't help but notice how much you resemble your mother in her younger years. Her old photos, tucked away in albums, flash through your mind—her bright smile, her youthful glow, her tight feminine frame.

You tilt your head, studying the reflection, and for a moment, you could almost be her. The realization sends a shiver down your spine, a mix of excitement and guilt swirling in your chest. The perfume you wore, her perfume, seems to grow stronger, filling the room with a scent that's both familiar and intoxicating.

Your hand drifts down, your fingers brushing against the delicate fabric of the babydoll as they find their way to your crotch. The silky material feels cool against your skin, and you can barely feel the slight hardness of your cock beneath it. The babydoll's design leaves little to the imagination, yet somehow, it manages to conceal your minimal size, making you feel both exposed and hidden at the same time.

As your fingers brush against the delicate fabric of the babydoll, they drift lower, tracing the curve of your hip before hesitating at the edge of your thigh. Your heart pounds in your chest as you realize the weight of what's about to happen. Slowly, your hand moves back, your fingers trembling as they find the hem of the babydoll and slip beneath it. The cool air kisses your skin as your fingers brush against your anus, the touch sending a shiver down your spine.

As your finger presses against the tight ring of your anus, you feel a sharp sting of discomfort. The dryness makes it difficult to penetrate, and you wince slightly as you apply gentle pressure. The sensation is unfamiliar and a bit painful, but there's an underlying excitement mixed with fear.

You hear the creak of the stairs, heavy and deliberate, and your heart quickens. He's coming.