My grandmother passed away in May of my sophomore year of high school, almost twenty months after the first time Mike and I fucked. I do not know how many times Mike and I fucked in her home, usually using my old bedroom. To say we did so several times does not even do justice to how often we did so. The first time we fucked we did so in my old bed and I am all but certain Grandma always knew what we were doing. In what would be the final months of her life, both Mike and I ceased to hide from her that we were fucking. She did nothing to encourage our incestuous relationship, But she also did nothing to discourage it and for two horny teens that was all the encouragement we needed. I am not suggesting that she approved. I truly believe she abhorred our behavior and regretted her role in that relationship.
Why did she allow us to use her home for our sinful coupling. My best guess is that she remained a realist in the ways of the world. She knew she could have stopped us from using her home to fuck but she also knew she could not prevent us from fucking. But I also think it went deeper than that. Whenever Mike and I wanted to fuck, we would go to Grandma’s house. We would do so as Mike and Veronica and not as Mike and Glen. If she had forbidden us to use her home for sex, she would have seen less of me, less of Veronica, less of the granddaughter she had raised for seven years. And maybe, most importantly, she accepted that Mike and I were lovers because deep down she was to blame for my fate. I somewhat suspect that if Grandma had known out it would all turn out for me that she never would have taken me as my guardian and raise me as a girl.
I was four years old when Grandma began dressing me as a girl. Initially it was a dress up game we played at home, but in time she came to enjoy showing me off in public as her granddaughter on shopping trips and other outings. On these occasions Mike was my protector. He was instructed to hold my hand so I did not wander off. He was eight years old and enjoyed these outings with his ‘little sister’ as much as I did. There were times when protecting me was not enough and he became my defender. As I grew older and fairy tales books and stories replaced my Dick and Jane books, when I imagined myself as the beautiful princess or frighten damsel in distress, my knight in shining armor was always Mike. I was eight and in the third grade when Mike turned twelve and entered junior high.
One day around this time, I heard noises from the bedroom Mike was using. They were not unfamiliar to me but they were confusing sounds — not unlike sounds I often heard late at night emanating from my grandma’s bedroom when she had one of her male friends stay over. But Mike was alone. I should have knocked before I entered the bedroom but I did not. Mike had his hand on his penis and he got really mad at me. He quickly hid but not before I recognized it as a photo album of mine. I quickly left the room and when I got downstairs I check our bookshelf and sure enough the album was gone. A couple days later I noticed the album was back on the shelves. I looked through the album and several of the photos were gone That would not be the only time I would notice that the album was missing and that Mike was usually alone upstairs on these occasions.
Mike and I became the best of friends. Being a boy raised as a girl, I lived a pretty shelter life during my years as Grandma’s grand daughter. I am not saying I had no friends but Grandma kept me on a short leash except when I was with Mike. We could take long bike rides together, visit the park or the shopping mall to hang out and even go to see a movie. I easily had a fuller life when I was with my brother than I knew normally. I have to wonder if Grandma would have been so carefree about Mike and I if she had known he was jerking off to pics of me in my prettiest dresses and swimsuits.
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