The 4 th Weekend

by Josephine Gonsalves.

 

I dabbed at my chin and neck with the end of the pallu, of my saree. The fish slices were ready, so I lifted them out from the pan, onto the serving platter and placed it on the dining table along with the rest of the Sunday fare. I untied the apron and as I washed my hands looked at myself, in the mirror above the washbasin. The light makeup and lip gloss did not require any touch up. The kumkum applied just at the hairline, and the bindi between my eyebrow, on my forehead were red. I patted my hair in place. It was tied in a loose bun at the back, in line with the nape of my neck, just like most Indian housewives. The 'venis'(string garlands of jasmine flower) from last night was still fresh, so I just checked the bob pins, that secured them to my hair, at the back of head. I adjusted the pleats of my pink and white cotton flower printed saree, pulled the pallu a little tighter around me and wiggled my bottom in a little jig. I touched the 'mangalsutra' (black beaded gold chain) lovingly. The glass bangles on my wrist clinked as I moved my hands. I looked a picture of domestic bliss, a housewife preparing Sunday lunch in her small kitchen, of her one bedroom flat. To an outsider, peeking into my kitchen, I looked a very happy and satisfied Indian housewife, as I hummed a popular tune

This is normal scene in almost every flat, every Sunday, at this time, in this colony. Normal if I was a woman. But I am a guy. So why is it that I, a twenty seven year old young man am dressed as an Indian housewife, enjoying myself and behaving like a woman, on this Sunday? Earlier in the week, I was an ordinary, normal guy. In fact for three weeks at a time, I am an ordinary, married guy. The following fourth week is different. The fourth week is the best time of the month.

Two years ago I did not know anything about wearing even a bra, and now I can dress in a saree, gaghra choli or salwar kameez etc. in a few minutes. It's the other preparations that take longer like smoothening and making up my face, removing the sparse hair from my body and limbs and switching my male voice and posture for that of a woman. Once I am dressed, I feel a total woman. In a saree or other female clothing, I am Sudha. No one can tell that I am a guy under the saree and feminine get up. Sudhir the guy just disappears every 4^th weekend. In his place is Sudha, my female counter part. Preparations to become Sudha start on Monday, with hair removal, skin lotions, 'chandan'(tumeric) treatments etc. By Friday evening I am ready to shelve my male self for my female one. I not only dress and look like a woman, I feel like one and a happily married one too.

A married woman, but where is my husband?. Oh no, I don't need a husband. Yes I am married, but to a woman. Her name is Kamala and she is a comely woman, as comely as they come. She is a dusky beauty with long dark hair and a bright smile. She is tall for an Indian woman and has a nice slim figure to go with it. At this moment she is pouring out the beer. She is wearing a white and green printed cotton saree and her hair is tied back and decorated with 'venis', just like mine. As I step towards her she will offer me a glass of beer and we will sit down to our Sunday lunch. We will eat it slowly feeding each other, like a couple very much in love. Later Kamala will help me do the dishes and then we will retire to the couch to watch a little TV. Like all previous times, when I am dressed as Sudha, we will start touching each other, which will progress further to kissing, petting, hugging, until we are undressing each other slowly. At times like this we both get very excited and proceed to the bedroom where we make passionate love. Kamala and I try to please each other and our lovemaking clearly shows it. Often I just perch myself in her lap. When I do that she knows I am feeling more feminine than usual and she turns on her full charisma making me feel very loved and cherished. She likes it too and after exciting me with her kisses and petting she carries me to bed and I know that both of us will be sexually and emotional satisfied with the love making that follows. In a little while I am going to sit in her lap and let her take the lead. I just love it when she lifts and carries me, like I am her wife. What a thrill to be dressed as a woman and be lifted by her. I'd like to be her wife everyday, at all times. At the moment we are a lesbian couple, only I am a man beneath the saree and female exterior.

How did I a young man become the 'femme' part of this lesbian couple?

Well for that I have to take you back a couple of years. I was a young man of twenty five, employed as a teller, in a nationalized bank. I was the youngest of four children. My older brother and two sisters were already married. My father and mother were now pressurizing me to get married too. My brother, his wife and child lived in the same apartment with my father, mother and me. To avoid the cramped lifestyle at home I had joined the local gymkhana, where I spent evenings playing bridge, snooker, table tennis etc and weekends playing cricket during the day and partying during the evenings. Once a month, a group of close friends went on overnight trips to beach resorts or nearby hill stations. I had a few flings and had also been with call girls. My father and brother were always after me to give up my lifestyle and friends. My mother and sisters were of the opinion that maybe marriage would make me more responsible. With the help of my aunts and cousins they started looking out for a suitable girl for me, from among the young, unmarried women and girls of my community. I did not want to disappoint my mother and sisters so I played along. And play along I did for some time. Like most middle class young men, I was seeing a girl on the quiet. When she heard about my family's plan of having an arranged marriage she ditched me. This hurt me and I decided that the next girl that my family matched me up with would be the one for me. The next proposal that came up was Kamala's. She looked very docile and demure, dressed in a brown Banglore silk saree, as she served us tea and refreshments. She looked very tall, in her silk saree but I was not impressed. She looked too old fashioned, simple and unimaginative. I was thinking of rejecting the proposal when she slyly looked at me, winked and smiled. That did it. Added to that was Kamala's father gift, of a one bedroom flat, as a wedding present. And that was how our marriage was arranged. I was allowed to visit Kamala, before the marriage and got to know a little about her. Kamala had represented the state in 'kabaddi', shot put and discuss throw. Now she worked in the same banking group as me, but in a different branch. I had not seen her in anything but sarees. I gifted her jeans, dresses and salwars, in an attempt to modernize. She agreed to wear them if I was willing to shave my thin moustache. I did not care too much for my moustache and so shaved it. Kamala started wearing salwars, but said she would wear dresses and jeans when we were alone. We were married within six months of our first meeting.

The next day after our marriage we left on our honeymoon. The two of us were a little uneasy with each other, about sex at first. The day time and sightseeing was romantic but the first few nights were testing time for us. I was too eager to consummate our marriage. In my eagerness, I was not able to please Kamala and bring her to an orgasm. I told her that if she dressed in jeans and dresses, then maybe I would be a better lover. Kamala agreed and with it her inhibitions also vanished. She started making subtle changes and we started having better sex. As we experimented a little more and more I was in for many surprises. She introduced me to foreplay and French kissing and many other delights, like wrestling and lifting games. Thus I found out that I was unable to break out from her headlock of leg lock, whenever we decided to have a little fun wrestling or that she could lift and carry me quite effortlessly. These unusual abilities of Kamala's had me rethink about my own manly abilities. From the second week of our honeymoon, she was the one who took the lead in our lovemaking.

On the last night of our honey moon, Kamala made a strange request. She said that she had quietly packed her wedding outfit and accessories and brought it along with us on our honeymoon. She wanted to dress me in it for fun and see how it would look on me. I told her I was a guy and it was not right for a guy to wear feminine clothes. She said that she had willingly started wearing dresses and jeans, on my request, even though she was not used to wearing them before this. She just wanted to see how I would look if I was dressed in women's clothing and since we were almost the same size, she was sure that her clothes would fit me. My manly ego was pricked and I told her that if she wanted to see if her clothes fit me then I would wear her dress, skirt or jeans and top. But she said that for now, she wanted to see how I would look as a bride. I refused to give in. She pleaded and coaxed me saying it was just this once. Besides we would not get this time of our lives again. I agreed reluctantly saying that I was only doing this to please her and only this first and last time since I was a man and not a sissy. She went to work immediately, quickly undressing me to my underwear. This was the first time I was almost naked in front of her. We always dimmed the lights before our lovemaking. I stood there shyly as she put the bra on me. I protested saying that there was no need for a bra as I had no breasts. She teased me as she continued hooking me up and filling the cups with tissue and kerchiefs. My first reaction to wearing her bra and petticoat were mildly exciting. I had never before worn or thought about wearing anything remotely feminine. Kamala coaxed me on and soon had me dressed in her choli and ghagra. While I was still trying to figure out what I was being led into, she stared working on my face. Powder, mascara, lipstick and a large bindi were applied to my face. She had me wear her bangles and fixed the large dangling earrings and other jewelry by means of clips, to my ears and hair. My feet were eased into her high heeled slippers. I just stood there as she drew the 'anchal' over my head and led me to the mirror. I was knocked speechless with my reflection. I stood mesmerized wondering if that was really me. I felt thrilling, strange emotions as I watched my reflection. I looked like a bride. Kamala was watching my reaction and smiled when I finally smiled and did a fancy turnaround. She opened her arms and in a reflex action I went to her. She put her arms around me and hugged me. Kamala seemed very pleased with herself. She was excited too. She had already kept the camera ready and started shooting away. I did not protest and she had me pose in different postures. I posed standing, sitting, sideways, on the bed, by the mirror and even sitting on the floor with my ghagra spread around me. It was like I was the bride and she the photographer. When the film was over she reloaded and asked me if I was enjoying myself. I nodded in agreement. I was feeling a strange thrill wearing her clothes and posing as a bride.

Then she started undressing in front of me, something that she had not done before. I watched as she unhooked her bra and using a 'dupatta' bound her breasts, so that they were flattened. Then she put on my shirt, trousers and coat. As I watched she wiped off her make up and lipstick, removed her earrings and restyled her hair and tucked it under a broad brimmed cowboy hat that she had purchased while we were sightseeing. She used her mascara to darken her upper lip a little and stood besides me. She now looked like the groom. She set up the camera and started taking self timed pics of the two of us. We posed like a couple only I was dressed as a bride and she was dressed as the groom. She clicked pics of us with me in her arms, on her lap, standing besides me, sitting with her arms around me and even carrying me. When the roll was over I was expecting her to undress me, instead she dimmed the lights and took me in her arms. I don't know why I responded but when she started kissing me I just went along with her as she undressed me slowly. I soon found myself on my back on the bed clad only in a bra and a petticoat. She was now undressed down to a under vest and underwear, as she made passionate love to me. She was very, very tender and good to me that I came so many times and had the best night of my honeymoon. In the morning she helped me undress the remaining items that I still wore and helped me clean up. We once again dressed as man and wife, in our own clothes. Both of us did not mention the previous night. Later we got ready to leave and return back to our everyday life as a married couple.

We made adjustments and settled down to our new lives, as newly weds. Kamala and I were busy the first fortnight doing up and setting up our apartment. I hardly visited the gymkhana club or played cricket on week ends. I spent most evenings at home now. Kamala and I attended a couple of parties we were invited to. Kamala was a good wife and I was pleased with her. She cooked, cleaned washed and kept home besides attending her job, in the bank. Our sex life was now routine but still good with Kamala's innovations. One evening she told me that I should go to the club, in the evenings and have fun with my friends sometimes. I was so happy that she was not being possessive and agreed without giving much thought to it. I started visiting the club on weekday evenings after work.

One Monday evening, I returned from work to find Kamala waiting for me. She offered me tea and refreshments and then told me that she was going to teach me some domestic skills. So that week I learned how to wash and cut vegetables, do some washing and cleaning up and also to prepare tea and simple things like French fries etc. She also had me use tumeric paste and skin toner lotions on my face, body and limbs. I noticed that my skin and face felt softer and brighter. On Saturday evening of that week she asked me to bathe and shave, as she had a surprise for me. I undressed, shaved and showered. I dried myself and went looking for some fresh underwear and clothes to wear. Kamala usually kept them on the bed ready for me. Instead there was a white bra, an orange colored petticoat, orange and black saree with a matching blouse. I asked kamala where my clothes were. She told me that she had purchased a new saree and had stitched a matching blouse for it. She said that she had been thinking about the last night of our honeymoon and had bought the saree, for me. She said that she had really enjoyed it and she had observed that I too had enjoyed it enormously too. She was sure I would look pretty in this saree. The saree was her gift to me. I started protesting saying that I was a guy and did not need a saree. She calmly went to the drawer and got out the pics of me dressed in her bridal outfit. I did not know if she was trying to arouse me or convince me. I felt thrilled looking at the pictures. I did look like a bride and we did look like a young couple. She smiled at me slyly and asked me if I was going to co operate and allow her to dress me. I felt a little threatened looking at the pictures, what if I refused and she showed them to her family, my family or friends, just to spite me. It would be embarrassing. My life was getting complicated.

But my fears were unwarranted. I agreed and Kamala dressed me in the saree and other accessories. She used the pallu to cover my head, to hide my manly haircut. Dressed like that she had me look at myself in the mirror. I looked like a young woman. Like the first time I was already experiencing new thrills. The saree felt different from the ghagra choli, but I felt very feminine in it. She showed me how to handle the saree while sitting, walking or standing and I was surprised at my own reactions and willingness to follow her instructions. This time she did not dress in my clothes, instead she too wore a green and black, similar type of saree. She fetched a bottle of red wine, poured some in two glasses, dimmed the lights, offered me a glass and called me "Sudha". We drank some wine, danced, ate our supper and sat out in the balcony, two women in love. Like the first time, we were soon kissing and petting each other. I ended up in her lap and was really feeling feminine as she held me like her woman. Although we were of the same height and built, she did not let go as she lifted me in her arms and carried me to the bedroom. I was already cumming as she lay me on my back and slowly started undraping the saree. She had carried me before on our honeymoon, when we were having fun carrying each other in different styles. But this was different, I was dressed as a woman and when she carried me to bed I felt like one. I stared responding like a woman to her kisses and petting and soon we were making love like two lesbians. I was thrilled beyond imagination and wanted nothing more than to be her woman. Kamala said she only wanted for us to be happy. I did not try to find out why she wanted me dressed as a woman. That weekend she had me wear some of her salwars, skirts and dresses. I enjoyed as she fussed with me. It was surprising that most of her clothes fit me. I helped her with the housework dressed in a cotton saree. At night I wore her night dress and we made love once again like two women.

We fell into a pattern and I became Sudha every weekend. The orange and black saree was the first of the sarees she purchased for me. Every month she purchased a few new sarees and had matching blouses stitched for it. She dressed me in these before she started wearing them. If she was gifted a saree she made sure I wore it first before she started wearing it. Her scheme worked and in a few months, I not only accepted becoming a woman, but also started liking it better than being a man. I started purchasing feminine knickknacks and trinkets. Within a year I had a long haired and short haired wig and was dressing up on my own. I had my ears pierced and could wear her earrings. I started wearing her sarees, skirts, dresses and tops and salwars. I now shared in the cooking, cleaning, washing and other housework. Kamala was at her best when Sudha was around. Sometimes she did wear male clothing, but mostly she dressed very similar to me. If I wore a salwar she too wore a salwar, If I wore a skirt and top, then she would dress in a skirt and top too. If I wore a saree she wore a saree too. I now set the tone for the weekend. Kamala allowed me the liberty of selecting what I wanted to wear. We had many private picture albums of us dressed in salwars, skirts, dresses and sarees. But I liked it best when we dressed as housewives.

We were at a very exciting time in our lives. Our weekends were now spent at home. Our families and friends started complaining about us not inviting them or visiting them. My dressing as a woman was affecting my behavior toward my friends and co workers. Kamala noticed it and although it saddened both of us we decided that we would have to find a balance for Sudha and Sudhir. We decided that I would be Sudha, every fourth week end. The rest of the time I was to be Sudhir and live like a normal guy. This arrangement had its merits as our families and friends started seeing and visiting us and we were able to balance our work and social life very well.

Although we would like to be two women all the time, it is not possible, given our social and cultural backgrounds. We continue to be man and wife to the outside world and are so for three weeks at a time and then the 4^th weekend, we become Kamala and Sudha. A lesbian couple. Both Kamala and I enjoy being housewives on the 4^th Sunday. Now you know why I am dressed as a housewife and enjoying domestic bliss.

  

  

  

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