Well, this is just the most beautiful story.

http://www.boston.com/lifestyle/family/articles/2011/12/11/led_by_the_child_who_simply_knew/?page=full

When will you ever finish Clarissa?

A few people have asked about 'Clarissa' - when will it ever be finished? 


For instance - 
"I was wondering if you plan on doing a third part to the Clarissa" story. I enjoyed the first 2 parts and am very disapointed that there is no third part. You left it hanging as to wether or not that she ever had a relationship with Clarissa? She used Frank to seal the cockhold of her husband an i was let to believe that she did want ti have a love affair with clarissa. Please let me know when and where i will be able to read pard 3. Rachael"


Clarissa and Stephanies Scheme are the two longest stories I've written, but neither are finished. In my mind, Clarissa though, is probably 80% done. Stephanie, well, is it even half way finished?


However, I have been planning to finish Clarissa. The scene where I stopped - Jenny is about to go on a date with Frank - I found difficult to start. The whole story has been leading up to it, so it has to be done, but I really had no idea how to go on with it. However, a couple of weeks ago, I sat down and re-read the whole thing up to that point, correcting typos and rewriting parts of it, and I managed to go on with the next scene. It's nowhere near finished yet, and I can't guarantee I won't get stuck or abandon it again,  I'm going on with it for the moment.


BTW Rachel - I think she was having a relationship with Clarissa - they have sex and profess their love for each other. Jenny isn't going to leave her husband, but I think she will have a relationship with her - they already are.


Since I started writing Clarissa when I was posting to Fictionmania, I will post the last part there. I'll also post it here with pictures, in a .pdf and I'll put it on Amazon as a kindle book too. 


I've made just over 200 sales on Amazon of the two stories I've posted there, which feels wonderful. Thank you to everyone who bought copies. I would really, really love some more reviews. You don't have to have purchased a story to review it on Amazon, so I'd really appreciate, if you've read either of them to post a review.


Since this is a rambling, mixed bag of a post, can I recommend a particular blogger - Servitor - his blog 'Contemplating the divine' is both thrilling and occasionally hilarious. He is the best femdom capper there is, and although his tastes stray more into the harder end of BDSM, the pictures are mostly of simply beautiful women with knowing, imperious smiles. I think the most difficult thing for cappers is to match the picture to the text, and when you read his captions, you cannot imagine that the picture ever had any other meaning. Here's a particular favorite of mine.

Well, who needs to think about such an offer? Freedom is overrated, I've always thought.

Bravissimo winter collection. Heather Crook

Bravissimo have updated their Winter collection.

And that means more of the angelic Heather Crook in astonishingly beautiful lingerie! Here she is, in a bra and panty set that seems to have been made by angels in heaven. I'm not sure why they've decided to give her rather poorly-applied eye shadow, but even that doesn't spoil her perfection.

And then, and then, this exquisite basque.It's like it was made especially for her, to cling to all those curves in the most amazing way. You're noting the smile too, right? Right?

I'm not sure who this model is - she's new to Bravissimo, but I do like the Basque. Those hips! The way the panels fit together, the detailing on the bust and front panel. It's all so delicious.

A new bride, alone.

Why I love pantyhose

Why do I (we?) love pantyhose so much? I've often heard that women find it slightly baffling  fact that some men find pantyhose sexy. To most women, they are functional garments, and stockings are considered sexy, especially stockings worn with a garter belt. Now, lots of men agree, but not all, and I think, in a straw poll of the internet there are far more fetish sites devoted to pantyhose than stockings, although it's hard to be accurate about such things.

So, why? For me, there are lots of reasons, although none are completely satisfying, and even all together they don't seem to add up to a real answer.

Zoe Alexander, looking rather pleased with her legs.

The main reason, I think, is that you  grow to like what you see, and for anyone born after 1965 or so, most women wore pantyhose. They became widely available, popular and affordable only in the late sixties and grew in popularity, exceeding sales of stockings in the 1970s. If you're from that generation, your earliest memories of seeing legs and thinking they're sexy, were probably legs in pantyhose.

But, stockings seem inherently sexier. They show a delightful sliver of bare flesh above the stocking top. They make panties more visible, and in combination with garters, they reveal a delicious tension of strap and fabric, like a little bondage party  going on underneath a skirt or dress. So, heck yes, stockings are sexy, but nevertheless, given the choice, it's pantyhose for me every time.
Is it the clinging effect? The snug nylon wrapped around the panty area? Is it the sheer panty part simultaneously revealing and hiding the panty beneath? Maybe, and they're good reasons. Perhaps it's just that usually pantyhose is seen, or suggested, with a very short skirt. Stockings can't sensibly be worn with a miniskirt, and usually they're not, and seeing the top of a nylon-clad thigh, just beneath a very high hemline, is the most delicious sight of all. I can't really explain it, there's just something about pantyhose.

I frequent onlytease.com's forums occasionally, and the pantyhose vs. stocking debate is a perennial favorite  Onlytease caters for the lovers of both in equal measure, although no-one is ever completely happy. And, of course, there are other arguments. Patterned or plain? Opaque or sheer? Footless? Leggings? Seamed? Everyone has an opinion on such weighty subjects, and I am no exception, except that my preferences are reasoned, and formed from a basis in fact.

Patterned tights are an abomination. The devil envied God's beautiful pantyhose, and tried to ruin them  with patterns and ribbing. They are cursed forever.  That said, I like some patterned hose. It has to be a delicate, lacy pattern though, not some hideous ribbing, and a pattern, must be on the panty only, not the legs, like on Sunny Leone's example from playtime pantyhose.

Sunny Leone, panty in the pantyhose.

Opaque? Sheer? As far as I'm concerned, I'd swap any sheer pair for an opaque, but it has to be nylon, not cotton or a mix. The shinier the better in my book, and often opaque can mean some sort of matt, woolly fabric that  wastes a good pantyhose opportunity. I like sheer too, but just not as much. Coloured? Well, some colours. Black is best, always. Then a nice brown, ideally the colour of dairy milk chocolate. White is okay, especially if opaque. All shades of charcoal greys that tend toward the dark too. Blue? Green? Yellow? Red? Euugh. Primary colours are for sweets, not for pantyhose. Why? Oh why? Oh why? etc.

Footless? Well, that's not pantyhose is it? They're leggings, or I'm a monkey's uncle. Now, I've nothing against leggings. Tight, clinging, shiny leggings, yes. But we've wandered off topic here, right? We're talking about God's gift to legs, pantyhose, and they go over the foot.

Daisy Watts and India Reynolds, leggings, and pantyhose.

Seamed? See above. I don't think I've ever seen a real woman wear seamed pantyhose, and I've never much seen the point. This is faking a design necessity from a different garment - stockings - from fifty years ago onto a garment - pantyhose - that never needed it in the first place. Seams don't ruin it for me, but, well, why bother? If you want seams, wear stockings.
Sheer to waist? Well, it depends. Yes, usually, but a visibly darker panty isn't a turn-off. Now, thick, visible gussets, especially cotton ones are a turn-off, as are those weird oblong reinforced panels you sometimes see  around the gusset. I mean, seriously? The point here is curves, right? And then stick a big angular block of colour over the crotch? What are you? A deviant?
Sorry, I was getting a bit worked up there.

I'm not such an obsessive that I know lots of brands and have favourites. Well, apart from Wolford of course - especially their high lycra, black opaques. However, I find the models that they use on their packaging and promotional material are way, way too thin. These garments are supposed to be accentuating beautiful legs, not the strange stick-like appendages that fashion photographers obsess over. See these Wolfords modelled by the unsurpassable Erica Rose Campbell.

Erica Campbell, white Wolfords.

I have had comments from readers who decry my endless mentioning of pantyhose and ask me to include scenes with stockings. Well, the answer to that is that search-and-replace is usually under ctrl-H. Do it yourself, if you must, you weirdo.

Come on, you know you need a spanking.

Hop over my lap

Thanks for doing me up, hon.

Over 100 served!

My two babies have now flown the nest over 100 times between them.
Every purchase gives me a warm glow. If you are one of those purchasers, thank you for your faith. I really hope you enjoyed the book(s). If you did like it, please, please add a review on Amazon. It only takes a minute and it makes an enormous difference to the number of people who will see the book.

View Amazon Book

View Amazon Book.

Ah, there you are.

“Ah, there you are.  I knew you’d be in as soon as my
friend left.
Did you sleep well? Me too. My friend helps me to
sleep. When he and Mommy do our thing, it helps me
to sleep, after. And this morning? Well, it’s different.
Sometimes when my friend wakes up he just needs to
do it again with Mommy.
Do you want to come over here to me? Get your
Mommy milk? Sure baby, I have lots now. That’s it.
On your knees. I’ll spread my legs wide for you.
That’s it baby, get in there. Suck gently now. There,
does that help? When I press your face in hard?
Suck baby, suck. Suck out Mommy’s milk. So good.
Yes, lots and lots. I think there’s some on my boobies,
and some on my panties too. Mmmmm. Creamy.
Now, honey. Why don’t you get dressed and ready
for work. And don’t forget, I have another friend
coming over this evening. So I’ll need you in your
maid outfit this evening.
Yes.  I love you too baby. So much.

Taking your spanking.

“That’s a good,good boy. You’ve taken your spanking
and Mommy is very pleased with you. We both know that
you’ll be good from now on.
Would you like a nice reward? Do you want to suckle
on Mommy for a little while? Yes of course you do sweetie.
You love sucking on me, just like a little baby. So soft,
and warm and comforting. Mmmm. That’s it. Suck on
one and gently rub the other with your hand. Oh, I love
you baby.
Are you rubbing your pee pee between my legs? Oh you
are! That’s so naughty! Are you thinking about all the
things that Mommy and her man-friend will do tonight?
Do you want to listen? Yes? Well, I’ll see. You suckle
on Mommy’s breasts and rub your pee-pee. That’s it.
Is your bottom sore? You’ll have to do what Mommy
tells you in future, won’t you?
That’s it. Good boy. You don’t mean to be bold. I know.
No. Don’t make a mess on my stockings. Pull up your
panties. Run along and get into your sissy girl nightdress
and later, maybe you’ll be able to hear my man-friend
spanking me? That’s it. Now run along baby.”

Come back to where you belong

Another story available on Amazon for Kindle.

I published Porn Star Cuckoldress yesterday and it's available to buy here. This is the second story I ever completed, which was originally called "The Path of Least Resistance." I wanted to give it a  more explicit name on Amazon to make it clear what it was about.
If you've never read it, it's quite long, one of the longest I've written. It's pretty typical for me. Loving, sexually dominant wife reveals her husband's sissy nature and her own desires, eventually cuckolding him but staying in a loving, tender relationship. It's told from his point of view. When I wrote the description for the Amazon blurb, I couldn't recall the husband's name, but it's because he doesn't have one. He's never named.
If you've ever read it and liked it, then please post a review. If you haven't, then you might consider buying a copy. It doesn't have much of a plot, beyond the continuous exposition of his sissy nature and his wife's ever more aggressive sexuality, but it is complete. It has a beginning, middle and end.

Here's some quotes from the reviews it got on Fictionmania.

"Another in the pathetic, wimpy man and nasty, selfish manipulative woman series that readers seem to love."

"I really enjoyed your story, and was actually surprised to find that out since I'm not usually a fan of domination/humiliation tales"

"This story is a study of the definition of love. Two people creating an intense relationship based on similar interests and/or sexual desires."

And this, from a 'Sara', nearly 11 years ago.

"Oh my god, that has to be one of the best stories I have read here!"

Basque/Hotel/At last she knows, has sold 46 copies so far. Every sale gives me a warm glow. Thank you.

I am still writing.

Al.

At last, she knows.
That's the name I finally chose for the story I've variously called 'Basque' or 'Hotel' or 'The one I'm working on now'.
I had to choose a name so I could upload it as a kindle file for Amazon, where it sits, nervously, awaiting a first purchaser.
Here's the link. If you're reading this then you've probably read all of it anyway. In which case, leave a review, please. I've uploaded a .pdf with pictures here.

Thanks to Saragirl who first suggested I should try to publish for the kindle. I'm going to do some of my other completed stories this way, and maybe work on something brand new that I haven't published anywhere else.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. be nice to each other.
Al.

Just a little update. Please add a comment.
-------------------------------------------------

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.

Next part of Basque/Hotel. (I have to get a name for this - any suggestions?)
Continues straight from the previous part. I'll make a .pdf of it all soon.
Please comment if you like this.

She was so beautiful. She had slid to the floor in front of Brad, her back turned partly to me. She was kneeling, her head bobbing in his lap, her mouth sucking greedily on his cock while another stroked his shaft. She’d tossed her long hair over to the other side of her face so I could see her lips on Brad’s cock. She was making a low growling, moaning noise deep in the back of her throat.
Brad was trying to feel her breasts through the soft lambswool roll-neck.
She broke off her sucking.
“Cary, be a dear and take off my sweater, will you?” She asked with a smile.
Somehow, being asked to do this brought home the reality of the situation.  My wife was asking me to help undress her so her boyfriend could more easily fondle her breasts right in front of me. I rose to do so, my eyes fixed on her mocking smile. I could tell she was enjoying this enormously. She loved rubbing my face in her infidelity, displaying her body to me as her lover pawed at her. I loved her so deeply, so completely, and somehow, seeing her have sex with another man, knowing I’d lost her, just intensified my feelings.
As  I reached down to gently pull off the dark lambswool roll-neck, she caught my eye, licked her lips and winked at me.
Her head descended again to Brad’s lap and and I was close enough to hear the raw, profane sound of my wife slurping her saliva from her lover’s cock.
I sat back a little, unable to take my eyes off her mouth. His cock was huge, much much larger than mine, and Heather really seemed to be enjoying herself. Her eyes were shining, and I could detect a little smile, despite her lips being wrapped around a huge penis. Brads hands were inside her bra cups, pinching her nipples and fondling her heaving  breasts.
She broke off for a moment.
“What do you think of Brad’s cock?” She asked.
Without thinking, I replied. “It’s big.”
They both laughed.  “It’s a fuck of a lot bigger than yours anyway.” Said Heather. “I can’t wait to have it filling me up, fucking my pussy.  But aren’t you so like a  sissy.” She changed her voice to a mocking falsetto - “Oh, it’s sooo big.” And they both laughed at me again.
“Come on.” She said. standing up. “I want you to undress me.”
She stared at Brad, watching her, his cock now lolling in his lap, while I stood beside her, sissy handmaid to my mistress. She’d kicked off her shoes already. I fumbled with the zip on the side of her skirt. My hands were shaking.
“Come on Cary.” She teased. “Brad’s waiting. “You don’t want his cock to go soft do you?”
Brad laughed.
“I mean, if his cock goes soft, who’ll have to suck it hard again? Hmmm? I’ve already had my turn, haven’t I? You might need to get him ready, or else you won’t get to see him fuck me, and that’s what you want most in the world, isn’t it?”
At last, I had her skirt off.  “Yes.” I said. Desperate to avoid what she seemed to have in mind.
She’d turned to me, her face inches from mine.
“Pull down my panites.” She said. “Show Brad your wife’s pusssy.” I knelt and tugged down her silky panties. I stood again, and she draped her arms over my shoulders.
“Now. Ask him to fuck your wife.” She ordered.
I shuddered. Her eyes bored into my skull, leaving no escape.
“Please Brad. Fuh, fuck my wife.” I stammered.
 Heather glared at me. “Put some fuckin’ imagination into it Cary.” She hissed.  “Come on. We both know you can do better than that shit. Tell it like you mean it. We both know you do.”
I closed my eyes. I gulped. This was too real. Too much.
“Please Brad. Will you please fuck Heather. I’m .. I’m inadequate, and she’s never had good sex with me. And, and she really wants you to fuck her. And. And I want her to be happy.”
“Lovely.” Mouthed Heather to me, and she licked her lips. Brad was standing behind her.
“Sure Cary. I know she’s been gagging for a real cock for years. She couldn’t stop telling me in the club.”
 He nudged her knees apart a little with his own and she sank a little as her stilettoed feet moved apart a couple of inches on the hardwood floor. Her arms were still around my shoulders, her hands clasped behind my head. Brad moved closer, and watching her face, I saw, I felt his cock invade her pussy.
The look that came over  Heather’s face was both  wonderful and terrible. Her face creased in pain and pleasure as the huge cock stretched her pussy, forcing his way into her. I knew she’d wanted me to see her face up close to give me what I’d said I wanted, to show me in detail what she looked like when she had a real man’s cock inside her. I’d never seen her like this. Not in all the years of our marriage had I made her feel like this - like a woman. How sad and pathetic it must have been for her to end up with a man who could never satisfy her. Never touch the raw, sexual, feminine woman inside her. But now, here it was, in front of me.  How priviliged I was to see this. How she must love me to allow me to share in this with her.
Brad gripped Heather’s  hips with his huge hands and began thrusting into her.
“Oh man. Fucking your wife is the best!” He exclaimed. “She is such a fuckin’ slut! And she’s so tight! It’s like poppin’ a cherry.”
Heather let out a strangled laugh.
“Ha! Cary’s cock is so fucking small and pathetic.”
She paused, her head bobbing with the force of his thrusts.
“He never came close to stretching me.”
She paused again, gasping.
“It’d slip in.... and I’d have to ask ... uh .... is it in yet?”
And they both laughed at me, still fucking. The sound of my Brad’s thighs slapping off my wife’s as he pumped her, punctuating their laughter.
“Not like your cock Brad. Oh man. Now I know I’m getting fucked!”
Cary reached for her elbows, gripped both her arms, pulled her from me, and forced her down more, pulling her onto him, with each thrust, her high heels skittering on the polished floor.
He was fucking her now. In this position, she could only just fight to keep her legs from buckling. They weren’t making love together. He was fucking her. Literally in front of me.
Her head swayed and shook, her hair falling over her face. She shook it up, looked at me again.
“So ... this .. is what ... you .... wanted.    Seeing me ... getting ... fucked.   Is ... it ... all ... you ... dweamed of .. Cary?   ... Is it?”
She didnt wait for an answer.
“Euuggh. Fuck. Yes! Brad! Mmwah! Uh. Fuck my pussy!”
And suddenly he stopped, released her, and instinctively she fell to her knees in front of him, pulled his cock to her mouth and sucked hungrily on it, one hand on the shaft, the other, moving to her own crotch, fingering deeply into herself.
Brad grapsed her head with both hands and began fucking her mouth, rapidly, forcefully.
“Yeah. Suck it. Suck it. bitch” He barked. He looked over at me, his eyes clouded.
“Get on the couch sissy.” He ordered.
As I hesitated, unsure, he said “Gonna show you how to fuck a bitch.”
With a sense of shame at my relief, I realised he meant Heather, not me.
“This is what they want.” He said. “Cock. Gotta make them respect the cock. They need it. You’ll see.”
Heather ‘s  head was still slamming back and forth,  taking his deep thrusts into her throat.  Gagging noises came from her mouth. It was a terrible sight. If even just to let her stop, I clambered past them to the couch. sat on it, unsure what Brad wanted me to do.
“Sit back on the side.” He said and as I did so,  he released her head, pulled her up under the arms, deposited her between my legs so she was lying back on me, her head on my chest, her leags spread.
Heather’s hair was spread on my chest, her back pressed against my cock, straining inside my panties and hose. I could smell the soft scent of her shampoo from her hair, as familiar and lovely as ever. As Brad climbed onto the couch, she looked back at me, her eyes dabbed with tears from the throat-fucking she’d received.
“I want his cock.” She mouthed to me silently. The cushions sank as his wieght joined us, and Heather grabbed my wrists in her own hands, pulled my hands to her calves and I grasped them almost without thinking and she pulled my hands back, making me spread her legs wide for him.
My own legs were spread too, on either side of my wife. Brad’s bulk, his hugely muscled chest, his flat, sweat-slicked abs and  massive, engorged cock hulked over us. He positioned his cock over Heather’s pussy, pressing it between the soft folds of her mound, digging into her a little, then he gripped one leg with his arm and thust himself deep into her. Our bodies were pressed lengthwise together. I felt her gasp, release, grip, shudder and yield to him. His member buried all the way inside her. Her lower back was forced against my own cock, her legs suddenly trembling, her back muscles spasming against me, and with a sudden gasp, we were lost. Lost to the cock. To the fucking, to this alpha male, taking us, fucking us. Making us his bitch.
“Heuh. Heuh. Heuh.” Mewled Heather, little cat-like noises escaping from deep in her chest with each thrust of Brad’s cock into her.
“Jesus Brad. Jesus. Yes. Oh Yes. Heinnh. Heinnh. Fuck! Fuck yes. Fuck your bitch. Fuck your bitch.”
Her arms flailed about - stroking his chest, grabbing at her own nipples, reaching behind her to stoke my face - surprisingly tenderly. But there was no mistaking it. I was nothing to her now. Just a cushion. Everything was about the cock and the need to have it slide in and out of her. Deeper and harder and more delicious and insistent and forceful.
“You see, sissy? You see? You see your wife? You see her, how she really is?” Grunted Brad, his words forced between his teeth.
“She’s just a BITCH!” He grunted.
“Who needs the COCK!”
“Put on her BACK!”
“And  fucked like a BITCH!”
“Waaaaaaaah.”  Wailed Heather, her knees tembling uncontrollably, and the spasm began to rock her whole body as she shuddered in a terrific, clenching, terrible orgasm. Her whole body vibrated against mine as it took hold, yet I could still feel him pounding into her, rhythmic, primal, unstoppable.
“Brad! Oh Brad! Yes! Brad! Yeah! Oh! Yes! Oh. Oh. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me Brad. It’s so good. Please. Oh yes.”
And I learned something about women. This was what they wanted. To be fucked like this. To come,  and still be fucked. Fucked through their orgasm and on, and on. Not stopping. Not holding out till she came and then finally gasping,  squirting into her, a weak spurt of seed. But on and on, and relentless to more and more fucking.
Brad never faltered or even paused. He slammed into her again and again and again.  Slapping her legs open wider and wider as she peaked and subsided and then, regaining her strength, she began to peak again, encouraging him to fuck her harder, deeper.
“Fuck me.” She gasped through gritted teeth.
“Fuck me.”
“Fuck your bitch.”
“Fuck your whore.”
“Fuck me.”
“Fuck me Brad.”
“Fuck me.”
I tried not to look into his eyes. But there was nowhere else to look. His face loomed over us, as he fucked my wife into submission on top of me.
“Wider bitch.” He rumbled. And Heather pulled her legs wide as she could to give him access deep into the furthest reaches inside her.
He pumped her relentlessly. Her breath shucking in and out of her body as his weight slammed into her again anad again.
And then, terribly, he slowed. I felt Heather’s body protest, cling, try to hold him in. But he pulled out and lay back and she desperately scrambled to bury her face in his crotch, to worship the source of the pleasure again.
He tenderly stroked her hair, lying back and breathing slow as she worked on his cock with her mouth, sucking and stroking like her life depended on it.
Now, her ass was right in my face. I could see her gaping pussy, actually trembling in front of me.
Brad’s breathing slowed a little.
“You know what your wife told me on the way over here?” He asked.
He didn’t wait for an answer.
“She said that you never made her come, not once. Not in five years of marriage. Man! How can that be man?” He shook his head.
“Seriously. She said her wedding night was the most dissapointing night of her life. She realised what a big fucking mistake she’d made, but like, she’d married you, and, you know, she was in love with you and wanted to be a good wife and all, so she was like, she’d just have to put up with it, forever.”
Heather was still sucking his cock, making little moaning noises in her throat.
“And because, like, you couldn’t make her come, but she was like, sorry for you, she’d pretend to enjoy sex with you, and that you were so stupid, and like, you must have never seen a woman come, not for real, you never even guessed. And, that was like what it was like. And I asked. I said, you-know, didn’t she ever want to cheat . And she said, yeah, she wanted to, but she was a good wife, so she never would,  no matter how many guys would hit on her. And you know? You know?”
He was looking at me. I just shook my head forlornly.
“You know. Sure. Like, guys can tell, you know, when a woman isn’t getting any, when  she’s horny, like not having been fucked properly, in like, years, man! She must have beeen getting hit on all the time. Like, giving off vibes, maybe hormonal or some shit. Like, when we met this evening? Like man, if she hadn’t already told me, I’d have known straight away, like there’s a woman who isn’t getting any cock, you know?”
“So then, right, she finds all this shit you have on the internet, and shit you’ve written, like fantasies, about her fucking around and treating you like a sissy, and wanting to wear women’s clothes and shit, and she was like - Whoah! What the fuck, and you were like jerking off to this shit, all the fuckin time? Like you were cheating on her, but like, with porn and shit, and she was like, oh man!  I can’t believe this asshole, doesn’t fuck me right, and all the time he’s like a fucking secret sissy. No wonder, and here she is, like saving herself. How fucked up is that?”
I shook my head.
He nodded, angry. “Yeah, so if you’re feelin’ sorry for yourself, feelin bad because your wife is fucking another guy in front of you, and like I would be too, but when she explained, and told me this shit - and it’s totally true, right? - yeah, I’m like, fuck yeah. Fuck him.”
“I’m sorry.” I said, pathetically.
“Yeah, you are one sorry asshole. Sitting there watching your wife suck another man’s cock. And now, I’m gonna fuckin’ show you. Gonna’ slam-fuck her right here. You want this cock Heather?”
“Oh Jesus yes, please Brad.” She said quickly, and she rose and presented her rear to him, straddling me on her all fours on the couch so her face was above mine.
I couldn’t really see Brad, just Heather’s head , framed by her beautiful auburn hair, and her breasts swaying above me,
She kissed me, her breath smelling of his cock, her face flushed.
“I love Brad’s cock.” She said, her voice husky. “i love being fucked and I love doing it in front of you.”
Suddenly there was a slap and her face winced in pain. He had given her a hard spank!
“Oh yeah!” She squeeled. “Do me. Do me now.”
And there was another spank and she squeeled, her eyes closing and then flying open again, sparkling at me. And then her mouth creased and opened wide and her eyes clouded and I knew he’d thrust his big fat hard cock deep into my wife’s pussy again, and she was loving it.
“Uuuugh.” She gasped, and she caught my chin in one hand, even as her body bucked with his first thrusts.
“I love my new life.” She said. “Finally getting fucked, by a real man, a strong man. Not my wimpy, sissy hubby. Not you. “
“Euuugh. Yes. It feels so good. So good in my cunt. Do I look good? Do I Cary? Do I look like I did in your imagination when you were writing your stories? Do I? Do I look like the perfect wife? Do I look like an angel? A filthy, slutty angel with a cock in her snatch? Do you love me now? Did you get what you wished for?”
She looked back at him over her shoulder, panting.
“Yeah. Yeah, fuck me. Brad.” She squeeled.
And he began to really pound her, hard and fast. Her head bobbed and shook and her voice became a low thrumming drone as he hammered her, and her face began to change colour and her mouth distended into a pouting scowl of pure sexual pleasure.
“UhUhUhUhUhnnnnnn. Oh fuck god yes please. Uhhnnnnnnnn.”  She moaned and I saw her come again, her eyes closed in ecstacy as Brad’s cock punished her pussy as hard as he could. I could hardly bear to watch, but pinned beneath her, I had no choice. As Heather came, her arms slid out and she fell on top of me, her cheek pressed against mine, her chest pressed on top of me, so I could feel, so clearly the force of his thusts and the effect they were having on my wife’s spasming body.
Flushed, sweating, every muscle tensed, she came on top of me,  her lover’s torso slamming out his rythm on her ass.
Even as she collapsed Brad still fucked her, wrenching into her now limp body with even more ferocity, until, I could hear his own breathing change, and suddenly he lifted her up by the shoulders and pulled her sitting again. His cock was inches from her face and she moved to suck it almost by instinct, but his hand held her away while the other pumped his huge, engorged phallus rapidly. He held her head with one hand and Heather’s eyes sought mine, a smile playing on her lips as she witnessed my reaction to this awful sight. As he began to spasm, she looked up to him, smiling, as his cock erupted a jet of white semen onto her face, from her lips to her hair-line. He bellowed in brute victory as another spurted over one cheek and over her eyelid and then another over her lips and into her waiting, open mouth. Then, amazingly he continued to spurt his come in smaller, but still copious jets onto her neck and her breasts as Heather licked and smiled and laughed in delight.
Finally, he was done. Gasping, he stood on the floor again, watching Heather grin at me in triumph.
“Happy, bitch?” He asked.
“Yes, thank you Brad.” She said, and then she just smiled some more, and then back at me, her face flushed, her breasts heaving, her fingers playing wither her swollen nipples, gently swirling his come around them.
“I don’t need to see this.” He grunted and, grabbing his pants, he lumbered from the room. I wasn’t sure where he was headed. I didn’t care.
“Come on hubby.” Cooed Heather. “We both know what you want to do. You’ve been so good. Come and get your reward.”
Her smile was electrifying. Knowing and powerful. She could see completely through me.
The sight of her come-covered face and chest was amazing. Gingerly I moved forward.
“No flinching Cary.” She warned. “Show me how you love this, or I won’t let you watch me any more.”
I gulped. I knew what she meant. Though this was something I’d fantasised about forever, I’d never really thought about what it would actually be like. I steeled myself, moved closer, and then, willing myself to do it, I eagerly licked a huge line of come that was beginning to dribble down  Heather’s breast. It was a little salty, but warm and musky. Heather’s smile deepened.
“That’s it. Good boy Cary. Like the man’s come off your wife tits. Lovely. Did you enjoy watching him fuck  me? Was it good?”
I couldn’t answer for a moment. I licked and slurped the thick jism from her breasts and then, she wiped the spurts of it from her cheecks and around her mouth, offereing her dripping fingers to my open mouth so I could suck it from her hand.
“MMmm. Nice spunk.” Murmured Heather. “Good boy for cleaning it all up. Good boy. Mommy is pleased with you. Are you happy that Mommy has a nice man to make fucky with her, are you? Good hubby.”
“Were you disspointed not to get to suck Brad’s spunk  from my pussy? Were you? Hmmm. Still, seeing me get a lovely facial must have made up for it a bit.
Now, me an Brad are going to go to bed together. You  clean up here, and when you hear us fucking again in our room, you can jerk yourself off. Okay? And in the morning, I’m sure Brad will have left a nice load of his spunk in my pussy for you to suck out again. Won’t you like that? Won’t you Cary? Yes. I know.”

Yet another new story. So much easier to start than to finish. Let me know if I should continue with this or go back to an earlier story.

"Call me Mistress" she whispered fiercely.
"Yes Mistress." I whispered back, gasping.
She was so firm, so commanding, and I could tell she wasn't acting, she was more and more turned on, but not in the usual way, this was different.
"Please Mistress." I said as she pushed me back towards the bed, but I wasn't sure what I saying 'Please' for - 'Please stop.'?, 'Please go on.'?, 'Please don't hurt me.'? I was lost.

I'd known that working together would change our relationship, but nothing prepared me for how it would turn out.
When I lost my job with a local IT firm, I'd spent several months looking for work before my wife took charge.
"Look Dave, my firm needs IT staff, you need a job. What's the problem? Start on Monday."
The problem, though I couldn't admit it, was that I didn't want to work with my wife. She was a partner in a powerful law firm, and I was a lowly IT consultant. Admittedly, our salaries were similar, but if I went to work in her firm, I would be a lowly functionary in a company where she was near the top.
Still, I had found nothing else, and we needed the money, and Clara was becoming insistent. I resolved I would try it, and keep looking for something, somewhere, anywhere else.
From the start, it was as I had feared. On my first day, my new manager brought me round to introduce me to  my new colleagues, the non-legal staff. She introduced me as 'Carla's husband'. I could feel people sizing me up as they said hello. 'So, she's a partner, and he just works in IT?' they were thinking. When I would pass Carla in a hallway, she was usually with one of the other partners, or a legal secretary. She'd flash me a tiny smile, acknowledging me, but we wouldn't talk. At lunchtime, I'd eat in the small canteen with the other staff, while the partners would usually go out to lunch, or be served food in their offices. Occasionally someone would ask why we didn't eat together, and I had to grit my teeth and say that it wouldn't be appropriate, which, of course, was exactly true.
At the end of the day, we'd drive home together. Since Carla would sometimes need a car during the day, she would drive us both in her car. As we drove home, she would still be in 'work mode' and we wouldn't talk much. She might ask me how my day had been in an off-hand way, but it wouldn't be till later at home that she would relax and we'd be our usual, married selves around each other.
And, maybe I was imagining it, but I felt that it took longer and longer for normality to reassert itself, as the weeks passed.
Eventually, it had to happen. Carla had a problem with her PC, and I was called to her office. She was having a meeting with the senior partner, and they moved to the coffee table in her huge office while I tried to figure out what was wrong with it. Eventually he left, just as I realised what the problem was, and we were left alone together.
"So, is it fixed?" She asked curtly.
"Yes, Carla, it's all back to normal now." I replied, putting the final touches to the simple software fix.
She gave me a look. "You know, I think it would be more appropriate if you called me Miss. Stevenage during work hours." She said, following it up with a mirthless smile.
I blinked. "Really? But there's no-one else here." I said.
"Yes. But I'd still prefer it. It's more professional, I'm sure you'll agree."
She was sitting at her desk again, and looking back to her papers.
"Yes. Miss Stevenage." I replied. She gave me a quick smile and she nodded towards the door. I was dismissed.
As I returned to my desk, I wasn't sure how this exchange made me feel. I wasn't angry, but I felt, ... something. I'd been put in my place, but not in an unpleasant way. I sighed. This was how it would be, I realised.
On the way home that evening, I could tell something was up with Carla. She was more intense, wired. She drove fast all the way home. She glanced at me a few times as she drove, but she hardly spoke at all. I wondered if I had done something wrong.
When we got home, I prepared the dinner. Usually we took turns. More recently I'd been doing more and more of the cooking, since often, Carla would return with work from the office that she'd want to get out of the way. This day though, she hovered, pouring a glass of wine and looking slightly edgy. I tried to make conversation, but she didn't really engage with me at all, and after a while I stopped trying.
During the meal, her manner was still strange, and I really did begin to think something was wrong.
As I started to clear the table, Carla still sat, sipping her wine.
"Carla, have I done something wrong?" I asked her, straight out.
She smiled a little, shook her head, and came over to me.
"Call me 'Miss. Stevenage' again." she said, and I realised, her strange look - it was lustful, vampish.
"Miss. Stevenage?" I asked, confused.
She smiled, shook her head. "No. Like before. Like in the office."
I wasn't sure. But the prospect of turning her on was very tempting. Recently, sex had become less and less common, and I was keen to feel anything between us. I tried to summon back the submissive frame of mind from our workplace situation.
"Yes. Miss Stevenage." I repeated.
She smiled. Her arms curled around me.
"I like that." She whispered. "Do you feel it too?"

I wasn't sure what she meant. But I could  tell she felt something. She liked the feeling of power, of superiority.
"Yes. Miss." I said quietly.
She kissed me suddenly, passionately, fiercely. It had been so long since I'd felt such a kiss. It took my breath away. As my head spun, I realised she'd never kissed me like this before. So intense, so overpowering. She released my mouth, but sill held me close.
"I love ordering you what to do." She whispered. "Do you like it?"
I wasn't sure if I did. But, to be honest, I didn't care. I was absolutely sure that I did like the way she was kissing me, and that was my overriding thought as I whispered -"Yes Miss."
She smiled triumphantly. "Yes. I knew. When I told you to call me Miss Stevenage, I thought you'd laugh. But you didn't and then when I so curtly told you to leave ... I didn't even say it did I? I just gestured towards the door? Yes. It felt so good. I nearly rang you back so I could order you about some more. Do you like this? I've felt, oh I don't know, so fucking bored with our marriage for so long. But this? Uh. I want this."
Her hands had moved downwards. She was caressing my ass in an aggressive way. Like a man might grab at a woman's.
"I want you ... " She paused, and I moved my hands to her breasts, but she angrily slapped them away, "... to do what I say!" She hissed. "No!  Bad!" she said. "You're going to fucking obey me. Right?" She demanded. "From now on, I'm not your wife. I'm your boss.  Understand?"
"Yes Miss. ... Miss Stevenage." I said, shocked at how agressive she'd become.
"Call me Mistress" she whispered fiercely.
"Yes. ... Mistress."
My voice had risen an octave to a strangled squeek.
"Please Mistress." I gasped.
"Oh yeah. You like this too." She growled. "Go down on your knees."
I hesitated, unsure. I was so turned on, but Carla, she was frightening.
She put her hands on my shoulders, pushed down, impatient.
"Go down on your knees. Bitch." She hissed.
I was so shocked, I hardly felt my will weakening, my knees bending. I found myself kneeling in front of her, my face level with her waist, the hem of her soft grey dress in front of my eyes.
I gazed up at her. She smiled a sneering, triumphant smile, and began to slowly raise the hem of her dress to reveal her thighs. Her pantyhose were sheer tan, the lycra shining softly.
Slowly her panties were revealed beneath. Deep blue, satin and lace. I pressed my face into her mound and I felt her drop her dress over my head, felt her hands move to the back of my head, press my face into herself through the material of the dress.

More of this. I'm enjoying writing it. Enjoying comments even more.

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She’d promised to let me watch. Could I do that? In the hotel, on the webcam, it had been different. Steve hadn’t known he was being watched. I hadn’t really had much choice. Maybe I didn’t now either. But could I do that? Watch my wife be fucked by another man? Could I take the shame, his mocking, his disgust? What would that make me? Not just a sissy, not just a voyeur, but someone who enjoyed being made little of, someone with such low self esteem that he could actually enjoy seeing his wife be taken by another man.

Who was I kidding, I scolded myself. I was already all that, and had been for a very long time, long before Heather had known of my secret desires. This reality was just the conclusion of my real self being pulled out into the open, and Heather’s eager embracing of my submissive nature.

In my minds eye, I could so easily picture the sight I had so often vividly imagined. Heather, reclining on the bed, her legs spread wide, her face just beginning to lose the flush of her orgasm, her body shining with sweat, her hair damp and lank. Her pussy lips, still gaping a little, a drooling trail of come beginning the dribble from the folds down to her asshole. Her face, smiling benignly, exhausted. Her finger, gently beckoning to me.

The thought was electric. Worth anything. I would overcome any shame to have it, to be there when it became reality. My hand had moved involountarily to my skirt, pressed against the bulge in my pantyhose. I snatched it away. Trembling I returned downstairs to check on the dinner.

I did not have much else to do but wait. I poured myself a glass of wine and wandered back upstairs. I set it down and unpacked my new clothes. They were lovely. Practical but elegant. I put them away and strolled back down again to the front room and the computer.

My files, the porn, my stories all seemed rather passe and juvenile now. I began perusing websites, bulletin boards. I searched for makeup tips for crossdressers, online clothing stores, and found myself drifting towards the transgender sites. Did hormones work I wondered. Was it that simple? Could you take a pill? Pills? And become more femine? How long did it take? Could it really be that simple?

As I read and clicked the time passed. It had grown dark outside. I got up and turned down the heat on the meal. If they weren’t home soon it would spoil. The phone rang and I hurried to answer.

Immediately I heard noise in the background. Too loud for a restraunt. A bar? A club?

“Hi babe.” Said Heather. “Me and Brad ... Stop it Brad ...” She laughed. “... Me and Brad went on somewhere to eat, so there’s no need for dinner.”

I could hear a voice, his voice, not the words, just a deep voice talking over her.

“You there? Honey?” She asked.

“Yes. Yes I’m here.”

She laughed again at something Brad said, or did.

“So, sorry.” She said, without much feeling. “Hope you didn’t go to too much trouble. You should go ahead and eat yourself, okay?”

“Okay. I will.” I said quietly. She wasn’t listening, she was laughing again.

“So. We’ll be home soon. Okay? Okay?”

“Okay.”

She laughed again.

“I’d say don’t wait up, but I know you will, right? Right?”

“Yeah. Okay. Soon?” I asked.

She paused before answering, then real emotion entering her voice for the first time - “Yeah. Soon honey.” She answered, her voice, hard, meaningful. And then she hung up.

I returned to the kitchen, feeling numb. I made myself up a plate and sat to eat with little appetite. My mind still blank, I cleaned up, feeling nothing. I tried hard not to think of them together.

When I finished clearing up, an hour had passed, I sat again before the computer. I got out my credit card.

It was midnight before they returned. I was idly flicking through old stories I had written when I heard the key turn in the lock, followed by voices. I turned off the screen and stepped timidly into the hall.

heather entered first, laughing and stumbling hrough the hall door. She looked fabulous, glamorous, happy. her eyes Her eyes caught mine as saw her new boyfriend follow her into our house. He was tall, six foot one, and quite broad shouldered. Tanned and good looking, but more cute than rugged. He was smiling and laughing as he fumbled with relocking the door.

‘He’s nervous too.’ I thought. ‘Or drunk. Perhaps a little of both.

“Hi Honey. We’re home.” sang Heather with a laugh in her voice.

Brad stopped when he saw me, blinked a couple of times. I didn’t know what Heather had told him to expect, of course, but in any case, he was surprised by me, or more likely, by my appearance.

“Brad. I want you to meet Cary, my husband.” said Heather, then laughed again.

Brad chuckled too. He was nervous. I found myself smiling back. He wasn’t quite the ogre that I’d somehow worked myself up to expect.

“And Cary. This is Brad. He is sooo funny. I’d forgtten what joker he was in college.”

“Hi.” I said to Brad, our eyes meeting, although what passed between us, I couldn’t say. Understanding? Confusion? Something anyway.

“Do you want to come through to the living room?” I asked politely. “Could I get you some drinks?”

“Oh, great Idea.” said Brad, removing his jacket and taking Heather’s too.

Heather’s eyes floshed briefly. She’d have preferred for me to do that, I guess.

“Yes. Drinks.” She said. “More drinks!” and they both laughed again.

I hurried into the kitchen and poured a glass of red wine for her, a scotch on the rocks for him. I reckoned that would be about right.

When I returned, I found them sitting together on the sofa, Brad’s arm draped casually around Heather’s shoulders. Even though I’d been expeciting it, the sight still gave me a pang.

Heather’s eyes searched mine out as I sat down.

“So, Cary, what do you think of Brad?” She asked, challengingly.

“He’s very handsome.” I replied, casting my eyes down, embarrased.

She laughed, while Brad smiled, slightly embarrased himself.

“Yes. Yes, he’s handsome alright.” She said. “And so succesful too. What is it Brad, most valuable player three years in a row?”

“Star player.” Corrected Brad, smiling.

She laughed. “Yeah, you’re a player alright.” and they both laughed at their private joke.

“You see, when I contacted Brad, and told him about our, situation.” She continued. “He said he’d love to meet up with me. And he told me about this time, he met up with one of his high school buddies, who’s married now, at his house? And Brad thought that this guy’s wife was coming on to him.”

“She was.” Said Brad.

“And Brad didn’t want to, you know, because this guy was his friend, and they were, like in his house. But then in front of her husband, this woman, she was like really coming on to him, and then she kissed him. And she said, it’s okay, that they were swingers.”

“And he looked like he was kinds into it.” Said Brad, with an innocent look, but a little smile too.

Heather laughed. “Yeah, like he had a choice. Anyway, like Brad needs no more encouragement.”

“She was all over me. Really.”

“And the guy says that they’ve done this before, like with another guy?”

I noticed that Heather was leaning in very close to Brad as she told the story. Brad looked very pleased with himself. His hand was draped over her bare shoulder, and Heather’s body was pressed very close.

“So Brad, says sure, and then she starts sucking his cock!”

“I mean, I’d done stuff kinda like that before, maybe in Vegas, with some of the guys at a cathouse. But never with like, a husband, there watching.”

“And Brad said. It was kind of weird, because the guy was talking about this, like they were both going to do her, but she didn’t suck her husband’s cock. No, just Brad’s. “

“Yeah, and he was just watching, and I could tell, you know? That he was going along with it, but he wasn’t really happy about it.”

“But she was.” Laughed Heather.

“Yeah.” Said Brad, and they looked at each other for a long moment and then moved slowly closer and then they were kissing, deep and slow. Heather’s hands moved around him and Brad gently stroked her thigh, up under her dress and onto her ass. I could see Heather getting more excited, her chest heaving and her feet began to twitch a little.

“Oh fuck.” gasped Heaher as they broke, and she turned to me, looked into my eyes as her lover’s hands roamed over her body.

“I made Brad wait till we got home.” She said. “I wanted you to see our first kiss.”

Then she continued.

“So, yeah, he was kind of into it, but not into it, if you can imagine that.” She said.

“Yes.” Said Brad, it was like you-know, he was trying to make himself believe that this was swinging. Pretending that it wasn’t just that his wife wanted to fuck another guy. So, she’s like, on her knees, giving me head, and he’s just sitting there. And he didn’t even try to like get her to suck him off too. So, I was guessing, you know, that when he said they’d done this before, like, it was just like this. that his wife was just fucking another guy and he was you know - just watching.”

“And so you fucked her there, with him watching?” aksed Heather.

“No. She wanted to go upstairs, so she leads me up there, and she’s getting undressed all the way up the stairs. You know, throwing her clothes everywhere, and he kind of just trails along behind us, with her ignoring him, and it was like he didn’t even know if he should come into the bedroom with us. At that stage I didn’t know if he was going to join in, I just wanted to fuck her. She was really really hot.”

“And he did join you guys in the bedroom?”

“Yeah, but he just kind of perched there, on the end while she lay down. And I was like, trying to ignore him too, and after a minute I just kind of forgot he was there too. Because, you know ...”

Heather laughed. “Because you were too busy fucking his wife right in front of him?”

He laughed too. “Yeah, and oh man, it was fuckin great, and usually, if I’m with like a woman, I’m usually kind of worried about, you know, wanting to take her ass, but she was really into it.”

“And she just ignored him the whole time?”

“Yeah, well kinda, sometimes she’d look over at him and maybe say something, like telling him how big I was and how good a stud I was, stuff like that.”

“Fuck.” Said. Heather. “And this guy was like a friend?”

“Kinda yeah. I mean, I dunno about now.”

Heather laughed again and caught my eye.

“So, when you were done, what then?”

“Yeah, well, I was thinking that maybe then, he’d like get a turn, and I really didn’t want to see that, but you know, I was still feeling kind of guilty, so I was gonna stay, but then she was like all asking me questions about when we could meet up again, and she was asking me about other guys on the team, and maybe she and some of the other guys and me could meet up. Like she was into, you know, doing more of us.”

“But not her husband?”

“Nope, like he wasn’t even there.”

“So what happened then?”

“Well, I was done, I just kind of left, and he let me out the front door.”

“And didn’t he say anything.”

“Not really, he just was acting like nothing much had happened, although I could tell he was pretty worked up. He never said anything though.The last thing he said as I left was ‘Thanks Brad’.

Heather laughed again. “Thanks Brad.” She repeated. She looked at me. “You’ll have to say thanks to Brad too when he’s done fucking your wife.”

She smiled. Her hands were in his crotch.

“Because, if what I felt in that nightclub is right, he’s going to give me exactly what I want.”

She smiled at him, and they kissed again as her fingers unzipped his fly and dug into his pants. They emerged with a huge flaccid cock, dark and flabby.

“Oh my goodness.” Said Heather. “Fuck! No wonder she was so excited. Jesus, Brad, I’d forgotten you were so fuckin’ huge. “

She slid to the floor and turned her back to me, leaning in to Brad’s crotch.

“Oh yeah.” He moaned as my wife’s fingers peeled back his foreskin and she stroked him with both hands.

“Yeah Heather, it’s been too long girl.” He said. “I never had head like you used to give me back in college.” He said.

Her hands were pumping harder now, coaxing some stiffness into his giant slab of meat.

“When that bitch was talking about fucking the team, I thought of you. You were like our mascot. Yeah. The way you used to sneak into the changing rooms after a game?”

She glanced over her shoulder at me.

“I always made sure to take care of you first though, didn’t I?” She asked, licking her lips.

“Yeah. Even though you were, like, the first team slut, I knew you liked me fucking you best.”

“Well, you were the star player.”

Her eyes, locked on mine, Heather lowered her face to his growing phallus and opened wide to take head of his cock into her pretty mouth.

“Aaaaaah.” Sighed Brad. “Fuck, Heather, how’d you end up with a pussy like this?”

He looked over at me, the pussy.

“Fuck, man? How’d it happen? How did you go from marrying this sweet piece of ass to prancing about in panties, watching her fuck another guy? Huh?”

Heather answered for me, lifting her head and pumping him with her free hand.

“I’ll tell you why. You know what my husband loves more than anything Brad? Panties. He loves wearing them. And pantyhose. Yes. That’s it. He loves it more than anything. He loves dressing up like a sissy. Seriously. He just wants to be a girl. Isn’t that right Cary?”

“Yes.” I said, maybe not very loudly.

“And he looooves watching me get fucked. Yeah.”

She turned to me.

“You enjoying watching me suck Brad’s cock? Huh Cary?”

“Yes.”

“Would it be just perfect for you if I let you wear a sluttier outfit, would it? Something really sexy, while you watch me and Brad fuck?”

She resumed sucking Brad’s cock while she awaited my answer.

I knew where this was leading. I was wary.

“No.” I said quietly.

“No? You’re sure? She was slapping herself on the face with his cock. It was now enormous, but still not completley hard. It was like Brad and I were from different species - the size of my cock bore such little relation to his.

“You don’t want to slip into that little pink satin dress? I think you’d enjoy it.” She sang.

She was saying something to me without letting Brad know. But no. I resisted. I didn’t want to do it.

“Okay, you just watch us have fun then.”

As she sucked and licked his cock, Brad tossed her hair and pressed her deeper onto his shaft, fucking her throat and making her gag. His eyes were clouding and his colour was changing, darkening. And Heather was changing too. Her breath getting shorter, her face flushed, her eyelids fluttering.

“Did you know Heather was a total fuck-slut when she was in college?” Asked Brad suddenly.

My eyes flicked to hers, her mouth sealed around Brad’s erection, but her expression was too hard to read.

My heart was pounding, painful, my mouth so dry I could hardly form the words.

“No. No I didn’t.”

“I guessed not. Heard she’d cleaned up her act after she graduated. But yeah. Your wife was the campus bike. Everyone had her. And then, one time, she came to a team party at the start of the season. Supposedly no girls allowed, but she snuck in to the hotel. At first, she was just giving blowjobs to anyone who wanted, but then, one of the guys took her into a bedroom to get some privacy, but some other guys followed and soon she’d spread her legs and everyone had a go. From then on, it was like she belonged to the team. She musta drunk a gallon of our spunk every season. “

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The Heather I had married, who I’d been married to for five years, wasn’t like that, or at least, she hadn’t been. She’d been so demure, so chaste and innocent when we had first met.

And yet. And yet. She’d always been so coy about her past. There had been those looks form her oldest friends when we’d announced our engagement. I hadn’t thought she was a virgin when we met, but, but I’d always been surprised, dissapointed that she was so, so indifferent to our lovemakeing. I’d always put this dows to my own shortcomings and inadequacy, assumed she just wasn’t that into sex at all. But had there been more? Was she so wanton, so sluttly that our pedestrian, run-of-the-mill sex lives had been boring, pathetic?

She had reacted so quickly, with such extreme measures to my secret fetish. Had it been more than just her anger at my dishonesty? Had she secretly been pleased that she could once again behave like a total slut?

I caught her eye again, her mouth distended with Brad’s cock, her drool dribbling down his shaft, her hand playing with ball sack. Her eyes twinkled at me, and then she winked.

I still couldn’t quite believe it was true. Maybe she’d set him up to say all that. Brad was grinning at me. Was he laughing at me because he’d helped twist the knife of humiliation another turn, or because he’d fooled me into thinking my wife wasn’t just a cock-hungry slut now, but that she’d always been?

No comments in over a month - what am I doing wrong?
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, here.

---------------------------------------------

I was still sobbing a little as I got ready for bed. Heather had put me in my place forcefully and mercilessly. I was a wimp. A cuckolded sissy wimp. How could I enjoy - no, luxuriate in - such a painful shaming experience?

I didn’t know how, only that I did. In fact, as I got ready for bed, the only real regret I had was that Heather wouldn’t see and be able to comment on my girly nightdress. I pulled it out of the drawer in what was now my room. It was the softest, swishiest babydoll nightdress I had been able to find. Pink satin with a lace bodice and darts around the edge, it had white lace bows all over the straps and hem. I had recenly got a pair of pink opaque pantyhose to wear with it and I pulled them on as I prepared for bed. The soft babydoll fell gently over my head and my chest as I draped it over me. I’d washed it with a perfumed conditioner and it smelled and felt divine.

The urge to masturbate was almost overpowering. Almost. I couldn’t even think of disobeying Heather now, not after having been put over her knee just so she could enjoy seeing me cry.

I wondered if I could ask her to put me in a chastity device. It would certainly make it easier not to masturbate.

Oh god! I missed Heather already. My little bed was so lonely and empty. How much worse would it be when I knew she was sharing what used to be our bed with another man? But oh god, the thought of sucking spunk from her crotch was unspeakably arousing. And in any case, it wasn’t like I had a choice in how my life turned out now anyway.

Heather had made everything very clear. She loved me, but she didn’t desire me sexually - she never had. I was to obey her in everything. She would help me by breaking my spirit, destroying my pride. This would help me to accept my subservient role. She would fuck any man she wanted, and my role was to serve her and please her in any way I could.

What was there to regret? Spelled out like that, my past life seemed like a sham, a waste of time.

How many times during our past life had I longed wear her panties, for her to hint that she was attracted to other men? I had spelled out my fantasies in stories and imagined what they would be like, played out in real life. Now, here it was, reality. I’d seen Heather dress in lingerie to please another man. Seen her on her back, her pussy rammed full of another man’s cock. Heard her moans and whimpers of satisfaction, lust. Heard her spell out how she’d never been satisfied by me. Seen her look of contempt at my sissy fetishes.

My cock was hard but not uncomfortable inside the pink opaques. The delicious feel of the pink satin babydoll enveloped me. I fell asleep, savouring it’s soft embrace.

I woke early and got ready quickly. I had heeded Heather’s comments the previous day and put aside plain cotton panties, flat shoes and a sensible white blouse and knee-length black skirt. Black pantyhose completed the outfit, and, while I’d have liked to wear something a little sexier, the pantyhose and skirt were enough.

I got breakfast ready, and while I was wondering whether to wake Heather she stalked into the kitchen in her robe.

She sat to eat without a word, and when I moved to pour her coffee she waved me away. Heather had never been a morning person, and I took the hint and left her alone. I went upstairs and busied myself tidying her room. I drew her a bath and laid out fresh towels. When I heard her returning upstairs I retreated into my own room until she was safely in the bath and then hurried back downstairs to clean away her breakfast things.

I was nearly finished when the phone rang. It was unlikely to be for me. I heard it ring again. Heather was in the bath. I skittered over to the phone and picked it up.

"Hello?"

It was a man, a voice I didn’t recognise.

"Oh, hi. I was looking for Heather. Is she there?"

My heart was pounding. This could be anybody, but my mind immediately imagined that this must be some lover of Heathers, impossible though that would be.

"I’m sorry, she can’t come to the phone now, could I take a message?" I said, trying to keep my voice even.

"Sure." Said the confident voice. "Tell her Brad called, and I got her message, and that I’ll see her tonight. Got that? Cary is it?"

"Yeah. Yes it is. I got it." I replied, ice suddenly flooding my veins.

"I thought so." Said Brad. "We’ve never met, but I knew Heather when she was in college."

There was a long pause. I had to fill it.

"Oh, right." I said.

"Yeah." Said Brad evenly, letting more silence fill the space around our words.

"Right, so I’ll pass on the message." I said, trying to sound calm and unconcerend.

"I know you will." He said, and immediately hung up the phone, leaving me suddenly listening to the dial tone.

I stood there for a moment, my brain stunned into stillness. I could hear Heather moving around upstairs. I wondered if I should help her, or leave her be and go back to the kitchen. Brad must be a former boyfriend, I thought. Maybe Heather had emailed him last night. Maybe she’d told him she was cuckolding me. Where were they going to meet I wondered.

"Cary! Get up here now!"

Heather was shouting from the top of the stairs. With a start I realised she’d called me several times, while I had stood dazed by the telphone.

I hurried upstairs, my skirt flapping on my thighs.

"I was waiting!" She said when I reached the bedroom. She was in a robe, still wet. I could tell she was trying not to let her anger show.

"I’m sorry." I stuttered. "I was, eh, miles away."

"Not good enough." She hissed. "Was the call for me?"

"Yes." I said.

"What you should do, is to see if wanted to take it myself, and then either bring me the phone or take a message. You don’t get to decide who I speak to, do you? Are you in charge here? Are you?"

"No." I squeeked.

"But you think you can decide who gets to speak to me, it seems."

"No. No. I’m sorry."

"No. And then. Instead of coming up here with the message, and to help me get dressed, you just stand there like a moron leaving me calling you!"

"I’m sorry!"

"I’ll make you sorry." She hissed. "Go and get my hairbrush."

Trembling, I went and fetched the flat silver-backed hairbrush from the dresser and nervously handed it to her.

"On the bed." She ordered, curtly. "And pull up your skirt."

I bent over the bed, acutely aware of my ass hanging over the edge. I reached behind and flipped up my skirt to receive my punishment.

"Count them." She ordered, and before I had time to think I heard the swish and then felt the pain explode across my left buttock.

It was so painful it drove all thought out of my head, and before I could unclench my teeth I heard the awful sound again and a second terrible swat hit my other cheek.

"Count!" ordered Heather as she whapped me again. It was so much worse than her hand.

"Nggh. Three!" I gasped.

"No. That’s one. You weren’t counting." She said and whacked me again.

"Nghaaah. One" I quickly gasped, having the presence of mind not to make the same mistake twice. How high would she go? The pain was terrible.

The smacking noise of the brush was ghastly, but the swish it made was worse, heralding the terrible pain to come.

By the time I gasped out "Six" I knew I would not be able to sit down that day.

"How many more do you need?" She asked, pausing for a moment.

My brain whirled. How many? None! But I knew that wouldn’t do.

"F-four?" I stammered, hardly able to believe I was asking more more.

Without pause she hit me again.

"Seven!" I shrieked, suddenly realising that this sounded like I was asking for even more.

"Eight, Nine, Ten." I counted.

"And one more for good measure." Gasped Heather and gave me a final, hardest smack with the hairbrush on my upper thigh that made me jump on the bed.

As I struggled to rise, Heather sat and let her robe fall open to reveal her nakedness beneath.

"Look away." She ordered. "Look only at my feet.

I stood, my head bowed.

"Now, the message." She said.

"It was Brad. He got your message. He said he’d see you later tonight."

"Right. Anything else?"

"No. That was it, except he said that knew you in college."

"Yeah. Do you know who Brad is?"

"No." I said, my voice gone very quiet. My ass felt like it was on fire, the pain spreading down my legs, into my thighs.

"He’s Brad DiTorrino. Heard of him?"

"I eh, maybe, is he a football player?"

"Well done. You’re not much into sports, are you Cary, but even you have heard of him.

Yes, he’s a star player. We dated in college. In a way, I gave him up for you. How’s that for a thought? You want to know what I told him in my message?"

The word wouldn’t come out. She would know I was lying. I couldn’t say it.

"Yes."

I could almost hear her smile. My eyes were fixed on her feet, flexing and stroking the bedroom carpet.

"Of course you do. I told him Cary, that I’d found out my husband has fantasies about me being with another man, and would he like to meet up with me?"

"Oh Jesus."

"Yes. Does that excite you Cary? Do you want to watch another man fuck your wife? Again?"

I was so twisted and desperate again. When I’d got her first email suggesting this I’d gone through the same agonies. Now, so immediate, with Heather asking me directly, it was so intense, so powerful.

Briefly, I tried to imagine what would happen if I said no. I couldn’t. Like a moth to a flame, I was drawn to what hurt me.

"Yes."

"Of course you do. You’re a cum-sucking faggot sissyy loser. But just in case you suddenly get ideas that you might want to protest or disobey me in any way, just remember, Brad is a fucking beast. He has received 6 penalties for violent behaviour on and off the pitch. Get out of line and he’ll smack you around, and I’ll let him. You bear that in mind, right cuckold?"

"Yes Heather."

"I’m planning for Brad to be my regular boyfriend. He’s a fucking stud, and that’s just what I need. He’ll think it’s cool to fuck a married woman, and he’ll think it’s hilarious that you won’t do anything about it, not that you can anyway. So do what we say when he’s here right?"

"Yes Heather."

"Pull down your tights and panties and go stand in the corner. I want to see your ass while I dress."

And so I stood in the corner, facing the wall, my skirt pulled up and my ass on show while Heather dressed in the smart, glamorous dress suit I’d laid out for her.

When she was done, she let me get back to my duties. Soon, she was ready to go to work.

"Honey, come here." She called from the hallway.

Quickly, but apprehensively I skittered to her.

"Now, I know you’re hurting, but I don’t want you getting morose and depressed here." She said kindly.

She opened her jacket, revealing her tight lambswool top. Underneath, the outline of her satin and lace bra was just visible against the flesh of her generous breasts.

She put her arms around me, pulled my face between the soft mounds.

"Mommy loves you baby." She said softly. "She only wants you to be happy. You understand?"

"Yes." I whsipered, more to her breast than to her.

"But Mommy needs cock." She whispered fiercely.

"I know." I said.

"If you’re a good boy, Mommy will let you watch Brad fuck her tonight"

"Thank you. I love you Heather."

"I know. I love you too Cary." She said and she she held me close to her for a long moment, and then she was gone, out the door to work, leaving only her sweet scent behind her.

I breathed out, realising how tense and worked-up Heather’s presence made me. I took stock. My wife was planning a date with another man. She was going out to work while I was left to look after the house and serve her and her boyfriend. But, she still loved me, and I was free to wear what I liked. Or, at least what Heather deemed was appropriate. Ruefully, I admitted to myself, that, of all the rules she had imposed, that was the one that chafed the most. Yes, my pantyhose and panties and skirt felt lovely, but really, I wanted to wear sexier clothes.

Still, my outfit made me very happy. And, I was forced to admit, the thought of Heather getting herself royally satisfied by her boyfriend was very exciting, and also made me happy in an odd kind of way. I thought again, was I happy? If I could have done, would I go back to the way our lives had been before? No. I wouldn’t have. Like Heather had said, I was a cuckold sissy, and I liked it. More, I loved it. I wouldn’t have my life any other way.

But she’d said more, of course. She’d said I was a sissy faggot. Was I? No. I pushed that thought away. I didn’t really want that. Not really.

I had a lot to do. The breakfast things needed to be cleared away, the beds made, there was washing to be done. I would get on with all of these, and then have some lunch. I smoothed out my skirt, and got to it, the feel of my pantyhose keeping me comforted and secure while I worked.

By lunchtime I had done all that I could. I made myself a little sandwich and ate it alone at the kitchen table. I had a problem. I needed to go out to get groceries and do some more errands. Of course, I could change into men’s clothes and go out, but I really didn’t want to do that. I cleared my plate away and went upstairs to Heather’s bedroom. I sat at her vanity and looked at myself. I knew I could do it. I had made myself up many times before, but eyebrows were the problem. I’d never had the guts to pluck or shave them before, it was instantly noticeable. I picked up the tweezers, and began to pluck.

An hour later, I appraised myself coolly. I wished I had a wig. Maybe I could get one? No. I just needed a hairband. Heather had one somewhere, she hadn’t worn it in years. I searched until I found it. Yes, it helped soften my face and take attention off my male hair length. My eyebrows were shaped, my face made-up my lids shaded. I’d swapped my blouse for a rollneck lambswool sweater and added clip-on earings. I could pass. What’s more I felt terrific. I was aware that none of this had been sanctioned by Heather, but I wasn’t thinking about that right now. In a way, I sort-of reasoned, she had conttol over my male life. As a woman, I had some independence. I was awae that that argument wouldn’t stand up to any scrutiny, but for the moment, it was good enough to give me the confidence to get downstairs, snatch up the car keys and walk out the front door.

I grinned to myself, delightedly as I turned into the street, not much caring if a neighbour saw me. Driving as a woman felt wonderful. I found myself laughing at nothing as I sat in traffic. I arrived at the supermarket in a daze. I smoothed my skirts as I stepped out the car. It felt great. I strolled into the shop, trying not to grin all over my face. I picked up my groceries and made my way to the checkout. The shop wasn’t busy but there were a few people at the tills. Was i getting second glances? Not that I could tell. The assistant was young, pretty, bored. She rang up my groceries without a thought and told me the amount with a yawn. To her, I was just another middle-adged housewife, picking up her shopping. I was so pleased with myself I took a detour to Pennys and picked up some pantyhose. I got some panties too, and then noticed the shoe section. I got a basket.

Only the bulk of my shopping made me stop. and head for the tills, I couldn’t carry any more without dropping things. I had blouses, some skirts and a couple of plain dresses that I hadn’t even tried on as well as the panties, hose and shoes.

"Wow. You’re buying a lot of clothes." said the cashier, rather pointlessly. I didn’t care.

"Yes. Yes I am." I agreed, and I grinned at her. She just smiled back, oblivious.

I raced home, trying to keep my emotions in check. I was experiencing a wonderful rush, quite unlike anything I’d ever felt before. Everything before had been playing. This was real. Just like I’d only played with the idea of sumission and cuckoldry before, but when Steve’s cock had sunk into my wife’s pussy, it was finally real. Now, I knew, before I’d just been playing dress up, now I was really dressing as a woman. And I wanted it, always.

Back home, I stowed my purchases in my room and checked my appearance. Yes, I hadn’t been just kidding myself, I could pass, but it could be so much better.

Now though, I needed to get on with things. I put away the groceries and began preparing the meal. Heather hadn’t said, but I guessed she wasn’t intending for me to eat with her and Brad.

I felt a twinge at that. I felt so happy with myself after my afternoon shopping that I wanted to share it with Heather. The thought that she was intending to spend her evening with this other man made me sad, jealous. Still, I knew she had needs. ‘Mommy needs cock.’ She’d said, even as she’d held me to her bosom that morning. And somehow, the thought of her getting cock, having a romantic evening with an exciting man, having the thrill of being fucked by an handsome, virile boyfriend made me happy and excited too. I hoped she would enjoy it, that it would go well. So, I prepared the meal as well as I could. I laid a romantic table for them, chilled some wine. Put some suitable CDs by the stereo and went upstairs to turn back the sheets on her bed.

After I was done, as an afterthought, I pulled some petals from the stand of flowers I’d laid on the hall table and scattered them on the sheets. Doing that felt so bittersweet, I almost choked up. She was my wife, but this was all I could do for her. The romance, the physical intimacy, the sex would be with another man. Not me. He would be the one to kiss her, to undress her. He was the one she would smile at. Brad would make her eyes sparkle, then close in passion. It was his cock that would press against the folds of her pussy, would part her lips, shove inside her, make her gasp in yielding, feminine pleasure. Then she would spread her legs around him, press her heels into his back, pull him into herself, gasp his name and hug him close to her. Brad would fuck my wife. I imagined them together, him - silent, powerful - her, perspiring, needy, whimpering, her perfect rear bouncing rhythmically off and into the mattress again and again, as he fucked her, her knuckles knocking on the headboard, as her arms waved helplessly above head, his fingers kneading her nipple, squeezing hard, painful, cruel, her squeel of delight, encouragement. Then, the bitten, muttered, pleading profanities as his orgasm built, her obesiant, submissive encouragement to him to finally release into her, as gratfeul thanks for the base, sexual pleasure he had given her. The offering of her face, her breasts, her belly as fitting sites for his seed. His triumpant climax, his use of my wife as his whore, his slut, her grateful happy acceptance of his cock, spasming, jetting his thick spunk onto her pretty, smiling, appreciative face, coating her forehead, her eylids, her chin, her throat, her breasts. Her eyes locked on his as she laps and coaxes the fluid onto her lips, and gently squeezes the last oozing drops onto her mouth.

Would she think of me then? Call me to her? To see? To witness? To prove again her unfaitfulness? To show me again how I was nothing to her? To demonstrate to her lover this pitiful pet who once was her husband. Would I amuse them? A post coital entertainment. The pathetic cuckold, grateful only for a chance to clean the spunk from his wife’s face.