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I had just returned from a long solitary afternoon walk in the forest. The house looked really pretty in the snow, with its fairy lights adorning the rafters and windows. In fact, it was quite picture perfect, so I stopped to take a photo. I framed the house against the white valley in the background, making sure that I included the lush green fir tree to the right of the house and avoided the somewhat tacky lighted plastic reindeer in the middle of the garden. The sun was low in wintery evening sky; a great time to capture the memories of the place in which I had stayed for the last two months as an exchange student to my Canadian host family. It was my year off school, and I had decided to spend it far away from my family, far away from friends, and find myself. Having grown up in the inner city, there was no better place for me to reflect upon life than in this mountain wilderness. I was used to life being constantly busy, my parents pushing me into hard work at school and hard play outside of school, as well as all the extra-curricular activities including sports, theatre, music and dance. For now, I felt safely tucked away from the bustle of everyday life, and had spent most of my time reading books and lounging around, thinking about what I wanted out of life. My host family didn’t complain about my lack of physical activity. They were an older couple who had never had any children and they were quite happy to have a surrogate son staying with them. They treated me very well. Mrs. Foster was happy to cook and clean for the family every day while Mr. Foster, now retired, sat around reading his newspaper and smoking his pipe. I sat all day long on the sofa devouring novels I had brought over from Europe. We made quite the old-fashioned family in many ways, but I knew it couldn’t last forever. Today was Christmas day. Mrs. Foster had invited a couple to dinner that she and Mr. Foster had known for many years, and a friend that they called Uncle Joe. Joe wasn’t really an uncle, at least not to them. He was Mrs. Foster’s sister’s boyfriend, although many years younger than her, and he had been coming to Christmas dinner for the last eight or nine years since Mrs. Foster’s sister, Mary, had died in a tragic accident on a ski lift. I had met Joe once before while we were touring the region. He lived in an isolated cabin on the side of a nearby mountain. We had stopped at his place for a couple of hours for refreshments and he had asked me loads of questions about my upbringing, my travels, why I was in Canada, what I wanted out of life, and so forth. He seemed very inquisitive, but at the same time quite genuine. Still, I felt a little uneasy because I felt like I was exposing my entire life to a stranger and yet knew little about him. He had a knack for keeping the conversation focused on me and my life, without offering much information about himself. I had made a mental note to learn how to ask questions instead of just answering them, realizing that I was young and inexperienced in the art of conversation.—When I entered the house Mrs. Foster informed me that their three guests had already arrived. I apologized for having been so long, but she waived away my apology and told me to go into the living room and say hello. I hadn’t yet met the Greens, and as I shook their hands I realized that they were about the same age as the Fosters. Mr. Green looked like a retired Colonel, whereas Mrs. Green looked like a typical housewife, in many ways similar to Mrs. Foster. Upon seeing me, Joe stood up and leaned toward me with a big smile on his face. I was about to hold out my hand güvenilir bahis when he put his arms around me and gave me a big hug, his arms wrapped tightly around my back and his cheek next to mine. I was taken aback and started to go bright red in the face. I wasn’t used to this kind of behavior between men, especially after I had only met him briefly once before. Mrs. Foster laughed happily when she saw my reaction, and said “Well, Joe sure is happy to see you!” “I sure am!” said Joe, a smile beaming from ear to ear. “Let’s sit down and have a little drink before we start on dinner”, Mrs. Foster continued. We sat there drinking our glasses of sparkling white wine, nibbling hors-d’oeuvres, and making small talk about the weather until this lead to Mrs. Foster and Mrs. Green breaking off into their own conversation about domestic issues, while Mr. Foster and Mr. Green spoke about hunting in the old days. That left Uncle Joe and me to strike up conversation together. This time, I managed to learn that Joe was from the city, like me, but had come to the mountains after he met Mrs. Foster’s sister, Mary. He had worked for a few years in advertising, but didn’t really need the money as he was independently wealthy from his family. After Mary had died, he decided to stay in the mountains because he felt happier being close to her origins, and denied the “life of ugly riches” as he called it. He explained that even though he was well off, he had decided to live out his days humbly in his two room cabin. I was quite impressed by his story. After a while, Mrs. Foster stood up an announced that it was time to exchange gifts. She went to the tree and started to rummage through the boxes, finding one gift for each of us and handing it to us while announcing who it was from. We had all been asked to purchase a small gift for each other as a token of gratitude for the season, and luckily Mrs. Foster had advised me to purchase socks for Mr. Foster, a scarf for Mrs. Foster, and a tie for Uncle Joe. She had even helped me choose them from the only department store in a nearby town. My first present was a Canadian shirt from Mr. and Mrs. Green, as a souvenir. I smiled and thanked them, while Mrs. Foster handed me a second gift, this time from Uncle Joe. I lifted the flaps on the wrapping paper surrounding the oblong box, thinking it was probably another shirt. The box shape was not unlike the one I just had received from Mr. and Mrs. Green. After removing the paper, I lifted the lid off the box and saw a pink silk lingerie-looking item with lacy ruffles inside. I quickly closed the lid and looked at Uncle Joe. “Do you like it?” Joe smiled. “I’m not sure”, I blurted, “If it’s for me.” I said. I was blushing bright red again. Part of the embarrassment was due the fact that I had just been given an obviously feminine and very intimate gift from another man, and part of it was due to the fact that I liked the idea, but didn’t want to like it. As a child, I had often secretly worn my sister’s clothing, but it had never occurred to me that my penchant would be known by anyone else. I had never told anyone about it, and had never been caught. Somehow, the thought that Uncle Joe may have been aware of my inner desire to wear female clothing was exciting and damned scary at the same time. I reasoned that he had probably made an innocent mistake, though at the same time I wanted to keep the gift. On the other hand, I wondered if he was provoking me, either to engage in sex with him or perhaps as a joke to test my manhood. Before I could clear my mind of all these conflicting ideas, Mrs. Foster güvenilir bahis siteleri saw that I was disturbed by the present from Uncle Joe. “What’s the matter, dear?” she said to me, looking concerned. “Nothing”, I responded abruptly, trying to buy some time. I placed the closed box beside the armchair. Joe sat there nonchalantly with a smile on his face, looking pleased despite the commotion. “What did you get from Uncle Joe?” continued Mrs. Foster. I hesitated for a few moments, and then decided it was better to come clean with the situation. “I think it’s a mistake”, I said, swallowing hard. “It’s some kind of ladies lingerie.” “What on earth?” exclaimed Mrs. Foster, turning to Uncle Joe with a puzzled look on her face. Uncle Joe sat bolt upright on his chair, leaned forward, and put his right hand up to his forehead, looking somewhat surprised. “I’m terribly sorry”, he said, “I must have mixed up the boxes. That was supposed to be for my sweetheart.” Everybody laughed at what had just happened, whereas I felt confused. On the one hand, I was relieved that Uncle Joe hadn’t deliberately given me the lingerie, but on the other I was sad that I would have to give it back. I had already formed thoughts about wearing it in my room later that evening. It had been a long time since I’d enjoyed that delicate feeling of being feminine. “Good God, man”, exclaimed Mr. Green to Uncle Joe, “He’s not a Sissy boy you know.” “Indeed, not one of those transvestite types you see on television these days”, Mr. Foster guffawed. “Stop it.”, said Mrs. Green, “He’s a very sweet boy.” “Yes, but not that sweet” said Mrs. Foster, winking at me. They all enjoyed the merriment at my expense while I sat there blushing profusely, trying to smile. “I’ll tell you what”, interrupted Uncle Joe. “If you come down to my cabin on Tuesday, I’ll give you your real present. “Here, give me that box,” he continued, extending his hand toward me in a gesture for me to return the gift. “I’ll make us supper and we can have a drink to this unfortunate mistake.” I thanked Uncle Joe for his offer and agreed to meet him at his cabin on Tuesday at 6pm. — The rest of the evening went smoothly, with no further incidents. That is, until Uncle Joe – who was sitting beside me – put his right hand firmly on my left knee after the coffee, and reminded me that he was looking forward to seeing me again the following Tuesday. Once again, it seemed innocent enough, but it sent a strange sensation through me. His demeanor was gentle and kind, giving no sense of anything untoward, but the touch of his fingers as he squeezed my knee felt sensual, sexual even. We had hardly spoken throughout the meal, listening instead to the Foster’s and Green’s stories of times gone by. I felt intimidated by the evening’s earlier incident, and just wanted to lie low until the evening was over. Joe finally let go of my knee before declaring that he needed to run to get ready to make some repairs on his cabin the following morning. — On Tuesday afternoon, I took the bus to Uncle Joe’s. It was a straight run from the Foster’s house, just a few miles down the road. As I made my way to his place, I felt excited and worried about what might happen. I still didn’t know if he was trying to make a pass at me or whether it was just genuine friendliness. In fact, I wasn’t sure how I would feel if he did make a pass at me. I had never been attracted to a man before, and wouldn’t have known how to behave if I was. I certainly wasn’t going to press the issue with him, although I did awkwardly enjoy his strange attention. I reminded iddaa siteleri myself that he had been Mary’s boyfriend and was therefore unlikely to be gay. “Besides” I thought, “It’s OK to enjoy the attention, so long as it doesn’t get out of hand. But, what is getting out of hand?”Before I could finish all my strange and wonderful scary thoughts, I had arrived at Joe’s cabin. I knocked on the door and he came out almost immediately. “Come in, come in”, Joe said, with his usual big smile. As I walked through the doorway, he put his arm around my shoulder for a second, and then proceeded to remove my coat while I lowered my arms to let him pull it away from me. I realized at this moment that he was behaving as if I were a girl, and I was also behaving as though I were a girl. “No man remove’s another man’s coat in this way” I thought, “And yet it feels so natural.” “Welcome to the mansion”, he said, laughing at his own joke. “Take a seat on the sofa over there. I’ll be back in a minute. I’m making stew. I hope you like stew?” “Yes, very much”, I said, making my way toward the sofa. Joe hadn’t gone very far. In fact, he ‘d just stepped over to corner of the same room, stirring a pot on the stove range. The last time I had been here, I didn’t really notice the place because I was too engrossed in conversation. Now, I looked around, observing that aside from the sofa and kitchen table with two chairs, there was no other furniture in the room. The floor was covered with a couple of thick woolen rugs, which gave a feeling of coziness to the place, but it certainly was a far cry from typical city life, or even most mountain life for that matter. The Foster’s place was at least ten times the size of Joe’s cabin. Still, it was a warm and comfortable place, I thought. I looked at the door to my right, which was closed. I assumed it must be the bedroom. “That’s the bedroom” said Joe as he walked back toward the sofa. “Hang on a second. Before I forget, I’ll get you your present.” Joe disappeared into the bedroom and emerged a few seconds later with a square gift-wrapped box in his hands. He sat down on the sofa next to me and handed the box to me with both hands, as though making an offering to the gods. “This time I hope you will like it”, he said. I tore off the top of the wrapping, and pulled it aside to reveal the lid of the box. Hesitantly, I lifted the lid, under which there was a layer of crimpled white tissue. I looked at Joe for a second and he smiled at me. “Go on!” he said, “It doesn’t bite.” I took out a wad of the tissue and saw more tissue underneath. Then I took out a couple more pieces and stared into the box, in which I could now clearly see the same silky pink material as I had at the Foster’s house. My heart leapt at this discovery and then suddenly I felt very shaky. I looked gingerly at Joe, who was still smiling, and said to him “It’s the same thing.” “Yes, but this time I hope will you like it.” he repeated. “But, I’m a guy”, I started to exclaim. “I can’t wear this…” Before I could complete my protest, Joe leaned forward and put his index finger over my lips in a shushing motion, and said “You can wear it if you want to. Nobody can stop you from wearing what you like. Guys clothes, girls clothes, they’re all just clothes. Besides, if it makes you feel good then you shouldn’t feel bad about it.” I was red in the face once again, and didn’t know what to say. I just sat there with my head held down for a couple of minutes, wondering how Joe could have known my secret, and what his intentions were by giving me such a gift. I figured that he would probably want to see me wearing it, and maybe even want to have sex with me while I was wearing it. I felt scared. “Aren’t you going to look at it?” Joe asked. I didn’t answer his question directly, but proceeded to pull the silky item out of its box.

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