Alamo Preacher

Just a little update. Please add a comment.
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She pushed me off her and began gathering up her things, then she paused as a thought occoured to her.
She handed her clothes to me. “Tell you what Cary, since this is a special occasion, why don’t you try on my clothes, and imagine you were the one being fucked by Brad. Go on. These are kind-of special panties and I know you love my skirt and top. You can imagine you’re the glamorous woman, enticing her boyfriend, showing him your legs, getting him excited. Now you’ve seen how it’s done, you can let your imaination run wild.”
She laughed and I reached for the clothes, but she slapped my hands away.
“No. Not now. Now you need to get me and the bedroom ready for Brad.
Go in and get him a beer or something. Then follow me upstairs.”
She turned and stalked off, wearing nothing but her high heeled shoes and her lacy bra.
I joined Brad in the kitchen. He was staring into the refigerator.
“Where’s yer fuckin beer, sissy?” He asked. “You do have beer, right?”
“Yes Brad.” I answered meekly. “I’ll get you one.”
I fetched a cold beer from the other fridge, opened it,  and handed it to him.
He took a long swallow.
“How’d it taste?” He asked.
I looked at the bottle, confused.
“My spunk.” He said.
“Uh .. eh. .. uh. Good.” I gabbled, my face bright red and heart pounding.
He sneered, disgusted.
“Go on then. Fuck off.” He ordered. He couldn’t bear to look at me.
I skittered upstairs.
Heather was waiting for me in the bedroom.  She was reapplying her makeup at the vanity. She’d draped a silk robe around her shoulders  but otherwise, she was naked.
“Were you nice with Brad honey?” She asked as I knocked and came in. “I don’t expect you two to become friends or anything, but it would be good if you can be civil to each other. I want him to feel comfortable around here.”
“Eh, yes. Ithink so.” I stuttered. “I fetched hima beer, and that was all he wanted.
“Okay. He needs a few minutes to himself to recover. In the meantime, you can help me get nice for him to fuck me again. Pick out a nice cami and some fresh stockings. Don’t bother with panties.”
She smiled to me again in the mirror.
I fetched one of her silk camis, a black one with little spaghetti straps, and a pair of black holdups. She turned round so I could kneel and pull them up her legs.
“Are we having a nice time, cuckold?” She asked. This time, alone with her, I felt it wasn’t just a rhetorical question.
“Yes Heather.” I said, quietly, but earnestly. “Are you?”
“Yes of course.” She said, offering the other leg. “Don’t I look like I am?”
“Yes. I, I’m sorry I never was able to make you feel like this.” I said, a painful catch coming in my throat.
“Oh, how sweet. I think you really mean that.” She cooed. “It’s true. I never felt anything with you. Maybe I used to get a little excited when you would suck on my boobs when we were first married, but well, after that it was all a bit of a dissapointment, wasn’t it? But I knew you used to love sexy time with me, so I’d let you put your thing in me. It really wasn’t unpleasant or anything. I used to think of it like, walking the dog. You’d get to have a walk, but the dog always enjoys it so much more. But you do it becuase you have to, you know?”
“And because you love your dog?” I asked, my voice almost a whisper with trepidation.
She grinned, took my face in her hands.
“Yes.” She giggled. “I do love you, you silly, sissy little cuckold pussy.  But just not, that way, you know?”
I was so relieved. I wasn’t really sure what ‘that way’ meant, but I didn’t want to press the point.
“But tell me. I need to know. Is this like what you fantasised about? Is it, not the same, but as good as your imagination? Better? Worse?”
I looked away for a moment, then back to my wife.
“Well, it’s hard to answer, becuase, I never thought, never really imagined what it would really be like. It was, well, a fantasy, I never tried to make it realistic.”
She was frowning.
“But, but yes, it’s so, so much more than just better. I mean, I really want you to be happy Heather,  and if, if it wasn’t making you happy then, well, it wouldn’t matter about me.”
She smiled again.
“Good. And you’d better be telling the truth, becuase, you know, I intend to keep on living like this. Cuckolding you, keeping you as my maid servant, humiliating you. You understand? This is what life is like from now on.”
“Oh, yes please.” I gasped.
She laughed again. “I’m not asking you. I am telling you. Now, lets put on that cami.
I draped it over her head and it bunched up on top of her chest. She gave me a look and I gently tugged it down over the swell of her breasts. It was snug. Her nipples made little points in the black, silky material.
I heard Brad’s heavy tread on the stairs, but Heather didn’t shoo me away.
As Brad came in to the room, she went to him, went on her tiptoes in her stockinged feet and kissed him deeply. Brad wrapped his huge arms arond her and kissed her back hard, forcing her head back. She lifted one foot off the floor as his hands snaked to her ass, kneading her buttocks with one hand.
They kissed for a long time as I stared - warm, intimate, passionate, loving. Eventually they broke off, and Heather turned to me.
“Now Cary, thank Brad for satisfying your wife so well, and you can go.”
I stammered.
“Th - thank you B-Brad for, for ...”
“For fucking your wife.”
“Yes, yes. Thank you for fucking my wife so well. I, eh hope you both have a nice time.”
Tears were stinging my eyes as I hurried out. They were embracing again, and Brad was moving my wife towards the bed.
I have to admit that my tears flowed freely as  I dressed for bed. Heather had seemed so happy as Brad took her in his arms. They’d looked so good together.  I wanted her to be happy, I really did, but knowing another man was fucking her, worse, that they would fall asleep in each other’s arms, would whisper tenderly together, that was so terribly painful.  My own tiny bed  was so lonely. I dressed in a pair of black satin pyjamas. They felt lovely, but as I climbed into bed I could hear noises from next door - a rythmic creaking. As I lay in the dark, the noises became clearer. I could hear Heather’s moans, the headboard knocking, the muffled thump of the mattress as Brad serviced my wife. I knew how they were. She was on her back, her legs dpread wide, he was thrusting into her. Her breasts would be bouncing inside the cami top. Her hands would be on his shoulders, or flapping around her head. Her shoulders would be beginning to glow with sweat.
I heard them stop briefly, shift, and then begin again. He had her on all fours, her pussy available to him to mount her from behind. She would have her hands on the headboard, her knees spread wide to give him acccess. Her stockinged knees, would be fighting for purchase on the sheet. The thumping was slower but louder - a second time, he’d take longer to spend in her.
My pyjamas felt wonderful. Before going to bed I’d tideied away Heather’s clothes. I hadn’t wanted to do what she suggested, even though the outfit was lovely.  I rolled over in bed. I didn’t want to masturbate. I knew that if I did, then listening to the sounds of my wife cuckolding me in the next room would turn into the purest torure, and it was pretty bad as it was already.
I could hear her moans getting louder and more anguished. When we had made love, before, her moans had been higher, more breathy. of course, I’d thought that was how she sounded when she was having sex. Now, as she’d spelled out so clearly, I knew that was just her faking it for me. Like walking the dog, she’d said. She’d done that for me. And now, I was doing this for her. But not really. She was doing this. She’d wanted it, planned it, arranged it. She’d never enjoyed me making love to her. I’d done nothing for her. This was what she wanted. Brad was who she wanted.
‘I love you Heather.’ I whispered into my pillow as her cries grew louder and more insistent.
I could make out words now.  She was calling his name, telling him how big he felt, pleading with him to fill her up with his juice. She was having a wonderful time. The humping was fast, regular, pounding now. Brad must be getting close. I heard him grunt and snort as he began to ejaculate his seed into my wife’s pussy, making her his own. She squeeled his name, her voice ragged and hoarse, and slowly they subsided. Soon I could hear only low whispering and occasional giggles from Heather. These sounds hurt even more than their lovemaking, betraying their intimacy, while I was so lonely in my little bed.
Now, I felt like masturbating. Hopefully they would sleep, and I wouldn’t have to hear them making love after I came myself. I rubbed myself through the satin material. It felt wonderful as always. I reached inside and took my tiny penis between my thumb and forefinger. Little strokes. I luxuriated in my satin bedclothes, and thought of Heather’s soft warm body, so close on the other side of the wall.
I imagined myself dressed in one of the new dresses I’d bought. Elegant and feminine. I wanted to go out again tomorrow. More shopping. I’d loved it so much, being treated as a woman. What would it really be like? To do it all the time? To really be a woman? To be feminine? Bautiful? Wanted?
When Heather had dropped hints, I’d been repelled, but now, in the comfort of my own bed, I could wonder. Explore it in my own mind.
Would I like the feel of a man’s hands on my ass? Maybe? Maybe if he were feeling me in a lovely, silky dress? Maybe? Could I? Would I? Suck a man’s cock? If I were a woman. If I were in pantyhose? If, if I had breasts? Oh, so feminie. So lovely. Little strokes.
And suddenly, I realised someone had pushed open the door. Heather. She was here, watching me.
“Don’t stop baby.” She whispered. “Mommy’s here to help.”
Incredibly, she slipped into bed beside me, then slid on top of me, her body pressed close on mine, pinning me down.
“Wanted you.” She whispered into my ear. My heart soared.
“It’s all true.” She whispered. “Don’t think it isn’t. This changes nothing.”
I put my arms around her, held her tightly. I didn’t care. I just loved her so much.
“But I just wanted to take the dog for a walk, you know. Because I love him.”
Tears stung at my eyes again, but tears of hapiness this time.
“I love you so much Cary.” She whispered again, and her mouth found mine in the darkness, kissed me deeply, passionately.
“When you said, when you said sorry for not making me come. Oh, I wanted to take you in my arms, hold you like this. You’re my sweet boy. So loving, so confused. You do really want me to be happy, don’t you?”
“Yes. Always Heather.”
“Good. Getting fucked properly, oh, it makes me feel so good. And knowing you love watching me, yes, it makes it better. And I love you too. I want you to be happy too. Here.”
She shucked herself upwards until she was straddling my face. I buried my mouth against her pussy lips, probed with my tongue, sought out the salty cream inside, sucked hard and deep., swallowed and licked her while she gently rocked above me. All too soon she was cleaned out, and she moved back down to kiss me again, still lying on top of me, our bodies pressed together.
“Did you like that?” She whispered.
“Oh yes.”
I felt her smile. “Good. Me too. Having you cuck it out is almost as good as feeling him put it in. “
Her pussy was pressed against the top of my cock. So close. Only yhe silky material of my pyjamas separating us.
“It’s weird Cary.” She said. “Somehow, over these last few days, I’ve felt closer to you than  I have in a long time. Since, before. You know.
Maybe it’s because we’re both, being ourselves? When I read what you fantasised about. What made me angry, what hurt, was that you’d hidden so much of yourself from me. And maybe I’ve done the same. A bit. Do you understand?”
“I think so Heather. Yes.”
“Do you love me Cary?”
“Oh Heather, yes. Always.”
“I know. The think is Cary. We need to be honest with each other. Always.”
“Yes Heather.”
She reached down, pulled the waistband of my pyjama bottoms, lowered them. My cock was resting at the entrance to her pussy.
“Do you want to be a girl, Cary?” She whispered.
I cringed. “I don’t know Heather. Really. I’m sorry. I mean, I love dressing as a woman. I want to, more than anything.  But you mean more than that.”
“Yes. Sucking cock. Being fucked.”
Her breath was hot and moist on my ear.
“Maybe. As a woman.”
“Yes.” She hissed, almost in triumph. She pressed herself against my cock. I slid inside so easily.
“Now Cary.” She said, and her mouth covered mine and I bucked inside her, jetting my lov into her, enveloped in her, filled with her.
My Heather.