This was written as a personalized fantasy for a girlfriend of mine. I do hope that you enjoy it as much as I did while dreaming it up.

 

Heatherized Hubby                    by: Miss Karen-Anne Brown

A three part odessy

 

PART ONE

They say that when you make a mistake like this one, that it is a Freudian slip, no pun intended. I do not know if that is true. I do know this, after the hell that broke loose, and the resulting lives that my wife and I lead, well, we seem to be much happier, than we were. Do not get me wrong, we were quite content with our lives before, but, we are a great deal more satisfied with them now.

So, what happened?

Let me tell you the results. I’ll save the details for another time, but,

I do want to relate the results to you. I said that I was happy. To be entirely honest, I am way, way beyond anything that I’d ever thought I would enjoy, but, it is now a fact of life.

Last night, I had my first date. I did not want to, but, now that I have, I am glad that I did.

To give a summary of the last three years, I will say simply that, I am now my wife’s, wife.

She has become quite successful, and, with the help that I gave her last night, she has become the leading manufacturer’s rep for her company, in North America. We both know that I could never have earned as much money working, as I did by helping her last night.

My wife is a very successful executive with a fast growing manufacturer.

She is a contract seller to the stores.

Susan and I are very happilly married, and I’ve been taught to believe that we will stay that way, as long as I am Heather, and that I am willing to help her in her business advancements, like last night.

Last night actually started, or, I should say, the fights started about three weeks earlier. I should know better than to fight with Susan. The fact that I live as Heather, her wife, should be more than enough proof to me that firstly, she always wins, and, secondly, I suspect that I don’t want to win, deep down inside. I think I like her being my boss.

But, back to that night three weeks ago. As usual, when Susan came home, her pretty nostrils were greeted with the scents of a gastronomic temptation. I have become an excellent gourmet cook, as, next to cleaning our small three bedroom house, and the yard work, there is nothing else to do, not very much, anyway. So, I have specialized in pleasing Susan, and one of the things she loves is food.

The white wine was in the ice bucket, the candles sputtering on guard over the fresh bouquet centerpiece, and there was a delightful easy listening station broadcasting over the stereo.

As usual, Susan came in, checked to see how I was dressed, and nodded her approval. She likes for me to be pretty enough to take out, when she comes in the door. We do not go out much, as, she tells me that not many restaurants could feed her the way I do.

I pulled my apron over my head and followed her to the bedroom. In seconds, she’d shed her tailored suit and her lingerie, dropping it all on the floor as she went to luxuriate in a hot tub.

Also, as usual, her tub was waiting. I picked her clothes up after her. I did not mind that. By now, I accept any excuse to be handling or wearing her lingerie. I hummed and Susan splashed into her tub. I could hear the tension leave her as she sighed. I knew she was happy with the home life I provided for her.

I hung her lavender skirt, vest and jacket in the closet and dropped her silk blouse and her dirty lingerie into the hamper. By the time that was done, she was ready to emerge from the tub, smelling dainty from the oils I’d mixed in her water.

She stepped out of the tub, into the fluffy towel I held to receive her.

Susan is a beautiful woman, and I feel privileged to have her as a wife/husband? I should call her a wusband, maybe?

I knelt and began to pat her beautiful form dry, enjoying the delightful scents that emanated from her. I could tell that tonight, she was going to make love to me. I could smell her musk of horniness.

Susan, in her bare feet stood at 5’ 4", still 2" taller than I, but very very well put together. She weighs in at 150 lbs., but, in the distribution of it that she has, and she is muscular, I might add, a thing she refuses to let me be, she is one dyn-o-mite looking lady.

She wears a size fourteen top and a fourteen bottom. I can wear, I should say, I do wear all of her clothes, but her skirts. I wear a size twelve skirt. Even our feet are the same sizes, well, almost.

I used to wear a size eight in a men’s shoe. She wears a size 8 ½, ladies, about the same as a 7 ½ men’s. I have become accustomed to the ache in my feet. It is second nature now. The only time I really have problems is when she buys new shoes, because, I have to break them in for her.

But, back to the story. She drapes a floorlength satin gown around her shoulders, and I admire the sensuous movements of her thighs as she moves ahead of me to the table. She now sits at the head of our table.

I serve her, then, sit, to enjoy her praises, of my domestic culinary successes.

"UMMMmmm...Heather, you have done it again. God you amaze me. Everyday it is something a bit different, yet as good as the best. You are one fucking fantastic lady to have in the house."

"Thankyou, Susan." I know that my face is splitting in it’s pride, generated by her accolades.

She sipped the wine and consumed the meal, almost as though she inhaled it. She poured more wine, and went to watch the news channel as I cleaned up the dishes. Half an hour later, everything clean and put into its proper place, I removed my apron and went to join her in the luxurious and spacious living room.

She was sprawled out on the couch, her eyes closed. Her full thick folds of nutbrown hair, fell in large waves, cascading from her crown to the besatined shoulders of her gown. I took a moment to admire my lovely spouse. She was pretty. Her right leg was bent, her foot flat on the couch. the left foot was stretched out with her heel resting on the floor. She’d opened her gown, and I could see her fingers probing gently at her private parts.

I went to the bedroom and got the electric vibrator. I knelt between her legs, turned the machine on, and very gently, as though it were my own cunt, began to move the vibrator across those sensitive lips, and then, teasingly, inserted it. Her orgasm was wild, as she bucked around in front of me.

She’d never had orgasms like that, before she made me start living full time as Heather. I felt strangely satisfied. I knew that she’d make love to me later, when she felt more like taking the manly role in our life.

I sat there, my left palm over her soft hairless private part, wondering if she would ever make me get one of those. I did not think so as, we both seemed to be comfortable with the fact that it only looked like I had one, to our friends and neighbors. She liked somehow, knowing that her husband had become a subjugated wife. I think she liked that almost as much as I liked wearing silk and satin underwear ‘neath my kneelenght hems all the time.

"Heather, I have a big favor to ask you."

"What’s that my love? No favor you could ever ask of me is too big."

"This one just might be, Dear."

"Do you remember that I mentioned about three weeks ago, that I had a good chance at the Brownsburg account?"

"Yes, I do." I cradled her right foot in the lap of my skirt, and gently massaged the arhes. She loved that. I liked it to. My nail polish and her toe nail polish were the same colors. It made me feel feminine. I adored, as you may have guessed by now, feeling feminine, and I did everything that I could to heighten the feelings at all time. Susan encouraged me to do it to.

"Well, Mr. Brownsburg is coming to the city near the end of the month."

"Yes?"

"He’d like a girl for the night."

"That is not unusal is it?"

"No...not normally...but he wants a special girl..."

"What is the problem?"

"My research has revealed that he is as queer as a three dollar bill. He wants a special kind of girl, one with a thing between her legs."

"LIKE ME??? Susan...you CAN’T be serious."

"Listen Bitch, I stand to make sixty grand off this one contract, and, it will be renewed at least once. That means, one hundred and twenty grand."

"But Susan, I’m NOT a...a QUEER."

"OHhohoho...Tell it to the Judge, Lady. You’re going to tell me it ain’t queer for a man to wear his wife’s clothes for three years, and to be known to everyone they know, as a woman? Sheeet. If you ain’t queer, Baby, there ain’t no snow in Canada in January."

"You make me wear your clothes," I whined back at her.

"Yeah, and I make you put them on every morning, and I make you sign your name as Heather...Sheeeeet...you wear them because you want to. You’re a fag, Heather, and it’s about time that you contributed some money to this house, anyway. I’ve been supporting you for over three years now."

"No, I won’t do it. I ain’t a fagoot, and I won’t do it."

I put my foot down.

Susan glared at me. She did not say anything. She pulled her foot out of my lap, and just sat curled up on the couch watching the television for the rest of the night. If I said anything to her, she just glared.

That night, I had to sleep on the couch, as she would not let me in her bed.

 

PART TWO

When I woke in the morning, I was still wearing the clothes I’d worn all day yesterday, but, she had added something during the night. Manacles. My ankles were bound together, and my wrists were bound together. A leather thong was wrapped around the foot manacles, and effectively hobbled me to the couch. I could not even get up to go to the bathroom.

Horror filled me. Susan could be one of the most vindictive people I knew, when she was crossed. I realized all too late, that it would be better for me to let a man paw me then it was to cross Susan’s will.

Susan did not come home that night. I could not get to the bathroom. I could not reach anything to drink, nor get to the kitchen to have a bite to eat. My mind filled with fears. What if a burglar broke in and found me? He could do anything he wanted to to me and I would not be able to stop him. What if the house caught on fire? I would be burned up, in a horrible death.

Susan did come home the next night, late.

She looked at me, with a hard glint in her blue eyes.

"Well, Bitch? What is your answer?"

With lips so parched I was barely able to speak, I croaked out that I would do anything she wanted me to.

"I want you to take his cock, ram it down your throat, and suck him so dry he won’t be able to get it up for a month."

"Okay..."

"If he wants to fuck your virgin ass, I want you to roll over and make him think that he is making you feel like the luckiest bitch in the world."

"I...I’ll do it...Let me up..."

She opened her purse and took a wicked looking knife out of her purse. I was terrified. She knelt and slit the leather thong that bound me to the couch. She then located her keys and opened the manacles.

I ran to the bathroom as well as I possibly could.

After relieving myself, I undressed from the stale clothes and slid into a tub of warm scented suds. It took me nearly an hour before I felt somewhat like my old self.

I looked down at my pretty breasts, the ones Susan had made me grow. I liked them. They always seemed so super sensitive. A lot of times, the satin liner in bra cups would make the nipples painfully hard.

I felt sorry for myself. That is the way it always is, for someone like me, who gets somehow overcome by their own passions. It was like a drug, a powerful drug for me to wear feminine clothes and anyone.....like Susan.....could use it against me. I was helpless to resist her. I hated that I was born like this.

Susan still did not talk to me for three more days. When she did, she told me to go and get the riding crop. My disrespect would not go unpunished. I’d been expecting it.

I brought it to her. I did not need to be told to pull up my dress and lay over her knee. Her strong left arm pinnioned my shoulders, and her right leg held my legs as though in a vice.

When that sharp little quirt came down, the pain was so intense that I nearly died. Instead, I allowed the only vent of emotion that was allowed to me. Like a girl, I cried. I cried as that little devil, wielded in her hand, covered every square inch under what my panties covered. I knew it would look like I was wearing red panties, when I would look at myself later.

At last, Susan was satisfied. She told me that since I’d better get used to having a cock in my mouth, so then, I would sleep for the next few nights, with a cock in my mouth.

When she pushed the rubber dildoe into my mouth, I felt it so far back that I nearly gagged. She just laughed, and welcomed me to the world of the woman, and she buckled the strap at the back of my head.

Somehow, I managed to get used to feeling that huge thing in my mouth, touching the back of my throat.

Last week, I had to sit and write out, on a scratch pad, four hundred times, every night after supper:

"I am a cocksucker and I love the taste of a man’s cum."

To be honest, after writing it so many times, I almost believed that it was true.

When the fateful day came, I was to go to the office with Susan. She wore a lovely three piece suit of a pale blue wool, with dark blue high heeled shoes, and her tan leather briefcase, purse. Her blouse was a royal blue silk.

I always admired the way she looked when she was dressed for the office. She was one foxy executive. I was the only person who knew what she looked like underneath, as well. This morning, I had dressed her in a pale blue satin teddy, with at least three inches of white lace trim from the crotch to the bodice, a lovely matching satin full slip and a white garter belt.

I on the other hand wore a brightly colored silk print dress, with a low neckline, white satin heels, white purse, and a thin white belt to accentuate the super laced in waist. To further accentuate the waist, I wore a crenoline slip that made my dress skirt flare out, so that it hit everything I passed by, making a loud rustle that attracted the attentions of people nearby as I passed.

As accoutrements, I wore white wrist length gloves, and a large floppy white straw hat, with white satin ribbons that flowed down the back. I was feminine fluff beside my wife.

Susan had decided that she wanted me to look especially dainty. I could hardly breath. I knew that bending over was a pipe dream. I am sure that the lacing she had done had reduced my wasit by at least an additional three inches.

To remind me that I was not a woman, she had tied a wide pink satin ribbon around me, and had pulled me back up between my legs, and, then she had tied it to the corset.

I wondered if I would even be able to sit down. My shoes, were new ones, so, you can immagine the pain I was suffering at her cruel hands. She had done this because I would not admit to being a faggot three weeks earlier. I knew that was why I was suffering so, today. As I painfully manouvered myself into the car seat, she told me that she expected me to be the paragon of feminine joy, and, that if I was not, today was going to be thought of as a picnic.

Mr. Brownsburg was a short man, starting to bald at the front on the top. I was glad that he was not a fat slob, because, I hated fat people. Their rolls made my skin crawl.

When Susan had shut the office door, Mr. Brownsburg stood up, and he literraly, if it was possible, raped me with his eyes. I felt like a piece of meat in a butcher shop. I hoped that he liked what he saw.

"Mr. Brownsburg, this is my wife, Heather. Heather heard about you from me, and she asked if I would bring her along to meet you."

Can you believe it? Susan stood there, a beautiful woman, and introduced me as her wife. I wanted to find a hole, crawl into it, then pull the hole in after me. I gasped and stared at her, in utter amazement. She smiled, wickedly.

He took my hand, and kissed the back of it, with a sideways glance at Susan. "Heather, you are magnificent. I should be very pleased if you would accompany me today."

"Why, Sir, I would be honored." I tried to affect the southern belle part of my nature. I knew that if I did not overcome my embarassment, that, at Susan’s hands, I would regret it for many weeks.

"Mr. Brownsburg, I think we understand each other. If you would like to take Heather out for a stroll, it will take us about two hours to draw up the contracts. Then your lawyers can review them. It should be all ready to sign by early tomorrow morning. How is that?"

"Susan, I trust you..." he said, looking at me, " I will see you here, tomorrow, at ten am."

"You be a good girl, Heather, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do."

He laughed, and scooted me away from my wife’s office with a loud rustling of my crenoline as he hurried me out of the building, talking at me a mile a minute.

His name was Sam, and he was a single gentleman. Over the next three hours he told me of the struggles that he had endured going through the drepression, trying to make his payrolls on time.

He was kind of like a tape recorder. All I had to do was ask him some interesting question, and off he would go. On my painful satin slippers, we walked along the canal, through the park, through a museum, and, to be honest, I had no idea of where we were.

Pain adorned my feet. Agony trimmed my crotch, and the restrictions imposed by the heavilly boned tight corsetry held me like an iron vice.

The only nice thing about the whole thing, was Sam. He was funny. He was intelligent and seemed to see the bright or funny side to everything. If it had not been for the corsetry, I may have split my sides from laughter. No matter what we saw, Sam had a story to tell about it.

I liked Sam.

Sam liked me too, fortunately for me. Susan would kill me if he didn’t.

He took me on a bus tour that lasted four hours. It was agony, with my satin imprisoned little penis, crushed between my legs, and sinking into that plush seat. I could not help but wince.

I hoped that he would not notice.

It grew late, and we got back to his hotel. I looked at the clock and was amazed to see that it was nine pm already. I made a comment about how fast the day had gone with him. He grinned at me, and told me it had been like a bit of heaven for him, to have such a lovely girl in his company all the day long.

He asked if I was tired, and, though I was ready to drop dead in sheer exhaustion, heightened by the pains of restrictions enforced on my feminized body, I smiled and asked him what he had in mind.

 

PART THREE

He wanted to take me to a supper club. I knew I could get nothing into my stomache with this kind of corsetry, but, I smiled brightly and told him that I would love that.

I was more afraid of what Susan would do to me if she learned that I did not do exactly as Mr. Sam Brownsburg wanted me to do. Resignedly, knowing my feminized fate, and quietly identifying with all girls who do what they have to, for a man, rather than what they want to do, I summoned the strength from deep within, to smile and tell him I would love to go dancing with him.

The club had a fabulous dance show and three comdians. The decor was lovely, done in pale blues, whites and gold. I tried to eat, somewhat unsuccessfully. I did manage, however to drink a lot of wine, which made everything, including the punishments that Susan had forced on me, seem somewhat more pleasant, at least, more bearable.

Our table had a candle on it.

Sam reached over and took my right hand, which I had lain, unconsciously, on top of my purse.

"Heather, you have made an old man, have the time of his life today. If I were thirty years younger, I would sweep you off your feet and take you away to my fairy tale castle in the air, and keep you there, forever my queen."

"Well, Sam", I whispered, with a giggle in my voice,"It would have to be a "FAIRY" tale castle, and I would certainly qualify to be your queen."

I giggled, knowing I had had too much wine.

This was the first reference of the day to the fact that I was not what I appeared to be.

He roared at that, and asked if I was ready to go home. As we walked back to his hotel, we decided to go across the street and look out over the lake.

Sam was a romantic. I soon found that he had slid his right arm around my waist and had pulled me towards him. I really did not know how to act, so, I tried to think back and remember how girls acted when they had been with me. I let him pull me towards him, and leaned my weight back against him, my head resting on his shoulder.

It was past midnight and no one was around. His fingers slid down my front, below my delicate little white belt, and began to feel their way, slowly, down the front of my dress. I felt his cock growing hard, pushing against my left bum cheek. I felt his lips moving in my hair. He was kissing my hair.

I yielded to his exploring fingers. In a few moments his fingers had gotten right to my crotch, rubbing my slip in between my legs. I loved the feeling. It was so womanly.

"Did that woman tie you up like that just so as you would look more like a girl for me, Heather?"

"No."

"Then why did you let her tie you up like that? You must have been suffering a horrible pain, all day. Why didn’t you say anything, Girl?"

"Sam, Susan is my wife...I love her...and, well, she sometimes is pretty cruel to me, but only when she thinks I deserve it. I stay with her because I love her and, besides, what other woman would want a man like me?"

I turned in his arms, and found that he was hugging me to his chest. I looked up at the kindness I saw in his eyes.

"Heather, you are the rare bird of paradise in the jungle. Tell me, why did she tie you up like that?"

"I...I’m ashamed to say..."

"Tell me." His fingers were brushing the back of my hair.

"Well, we had this fight about three weeks ago, and, well, she is punishing me for being so wrong, and so rebellious."

He was gently bringing my head to rest on his chest, as his other hand was exploring my back, and, running over my bum.

I liked what he was doing to me. I felt girlish.

"What was the fight about?"

I looked up at him. I could see that he needed another shave.

"It...well, I said, I...said that I was not...a, a queer and she said I was."

"You said a bit earlier that she was punishing your for being so wrong.

Is that...the wrong part?"

I searched his eyes. "Yes."

"You mean, now that you have met me, you think that you are a queer?"

"You make me feel pretty, and girlish, and..."

"But, Susan makes you feel that way, doesn’t she?"

"Yes."

"But, with me it’s different?"

"Yes...I, uh..."

"Tell me, Heather."

"I want you to...kiss me. I never felt that way about a man before."

"I bet you want me to do more than kiss you, don’t you?"

I looked at him, and began to snake my arms up through his, till I could lock my fingers behind his neck.

"Well?", he continued.

"Yes, Sam, I do want that." I pushed myself against his cock. It was harder than it was before. My candor was turning him on.

"Did you ever suck a cock before, Heather?"

"No."

"Do you want to suck mine?"

I blushed and lay my head back on his chest, squeezing his neck.

"Do you, Heather?"

"Yes, Sam, I do."

"Well, Heather, let’s go back to the room. I want to let you do what you want to."

He took my arm, and directed me. Feeling very docile, and ashamed at my confession, because, regardless of what I was supposed to say, it was really true, and I knew it deep inside.

My own bound up erection was a center of pain, and, excitement. I was excited, knowing that I was betraying my boyhood. I was going to be a complete girl.

In the room, Sam turned on the radio to a dance music station. We danced, and sipped at wine, all the while, Sam was becoming familiar with my body.

"Turn around, Heather. You have suffered enough with that. I am going to untie it."

He sat in a chair. I backed up to him, holding my dress and slip up. He lowered my panties, and found the pink satin ribbon. He untied it. It immediateely sprang to an instant erection.

"Well, now...look at that. Now I know that you really do like me." He patted my bum, and raised my panties again. I put my arms around his neck and sought out his mouth. I found his lips and sucked greedilly on his tongue.

Sam lifted me up, while I was kissing him, and he carried me over to the bed, where, I lay down as he lowered me, and Sam came down on top of me. I clung at his neck and longed to feel the scrape of his beard stubble on my cheeks, as I sucked hungrilly at his tongue.

Sam had his hand down the front of my dress, and was rubbing the satin panties into my erection. He moved so that he was laying to the side, and I was still clinging to his neck. I felt his hard calloused fingers as they found my dress hem, and with a loud rustling, he inserted his hand under my dress, to roughly grasp at my petite little penis.

"AAAAAhhhhh...Sam, I love the way that feels...aaahhh"

My body shuddered in uncontrollable spasms as he milked me to the most fabulous orgasm that I had ever experienced. I never knew that a man could make me feel this way. I felt so vulnerable, so small,...so unprotected, and loving the feeling of being exposed with his hand under my dress. this was the height of feeling feminine, I was certain.

After what seemed like a long time, I went to the bathroom and cleaned as much of the mess up as I could.

When I got back, Sam was laying on the bed, naked, with a silly grin, and, an ugly...fascinating...hard on.

"If I heard you right, you said you wanted to suck my cock?"

I smiled at him. "Sam, you heard me right."

With a loud rustling of my slips, I manouvered onto the bed, to sit nearly beside him. Again I smiled, and ran my fingers over his hairy chest. I touched his hard litle nipples, and found I could not resist them. I lowered my head and gently began to lick at the hard little buds of maleness. I got hair in my teeth, and sat up to remove it.

I again spied his cock. Feeling absolutely ashamed of myself, I reached out and gently lightly brushed my fingers over the underside of the shaft. Feeling braver, I rubbed the head, and then grasped it in my hand, and began to masturbate him. I felt so free, so very free.

Sam sighed.

"I can’t believe that I am actually having the guts to do this, Sam."

"Just don’t stop, my Fairy Princess, Heather."

"No, not till I make you cum for me...anyway."

I reached down and grapsed his hairy sack, then, felt his cock again. I loved seeing my femininzed hand, doing what a woman’s hand should be doing. I let my hand roam all over his hard muscled belly, over his pretty little nipples, and then back to the prize.

I moved myself down so that my head was on his belly, and I had that ugly peehole an inch in front of my face.

"Dare I?" I asked myself.

I leaned over and left lipstick traces on the head, around the peehole.

I knew that if I could kiss, it, I could suck it. I opened my mouth as wide as I could, and lowered my head.

It would not go in. It was too big, and, it was too dry. I almost cried in frustration. I wanted so desparately to suck a cock, and it looked like I was not going to be able to.

The thought occurred to me that if it was lubricated it might fit into my mouth. I leaned over and gently began to lick the shaft up and down, nearly spitting all over the head, and that ugly peehole, as I licked the cock. This time, it fit inside of my lips.

I pushed my head down, locked my lips and raised my head, trying to suck every ounce out of it for him.

"Watch out for your teeth, Heather."

I would be more careful. I remembered the joke from my schooldays, about, how, if you could open your mouth without showing your teeth that you would make a good cocksucker. I wanted to be a good cocksucker. I would watch my teeth, for "MY MAN". I was a woman at last, doing what a woman does for her lover, "HER MAN", "HER BOYFRIEND". I had a boyfirend and he was in my mouth this very moment.

I felt like I was living a dream, a pretty dream.

Sam moaned as I pleased him with my cocksucking. Other jokes came back to me, about boys who wear panty hose and hit you with their purses. I was one.

My dress and this man’s cock in my mouth proved that.

Another one came back to, about defeating the opposing wrestlers, by putting a liplock on their love muscles. Well, that description fit me. I had a liplock on Sam, and I was defeating him. He was just laying there and letting me suck him all I wanted to.

I began to think that I was doing something wrong, because it started to take him so long to cum. My shoulders and my jaws were getting sore.

I moved so that I was kneeling between his legs, and took it deep into my loving orifice again. He came for me with rich gobs. Sam came so much, that I was not able to swallow all of it. It spurted out of the corners of my mouth, all over his belly, and my hands.

I knew that I got some into my tummy, just like a girl gets her rewards from her boyfriend. I felt good about that.

Sam cleaned himself up, and returned to lay beside me on top of the covers. He kissed me and I, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, I reached out to hold his limp dick in my hand. I loved it. It made me feel like a girl.

"Well, Heather, my pretty boy. How did you like giving your first blowjob?"

I smiled up at him. "I need practice. I should have been able to swallow all of your cum. I...I wanted to swallow all of it."

"I know, Baby, I know. They say that practice makes perfect. I guess you’ll just have to get a regular boyfriend."

"Sam, yesterday, that idea was abhorent to me. Today, I can see that you might be right. You showed me that there is a part of me that only a real man can satisfy."

I lay on my back, and, Sam told me, that he too, liked sucking cocks, only, he liked sucking girl’s cocks. I felt more than saw my dress being pushed up, my satin panties being lowered and a lovely warm wet sensation. Sam proved it to me to, and I came gloriously.

We slept cosilly in each other’s arms. I awoke first, and, I woke Sam, with my lips, on his cock. He let me finish him, to get my reward.

It is embarassing, knowing that you are a boy, and a man is helping you put your dress back on, but, it happened like that.

We had a light breakfast, and wandered back to Susan’s office.

By this time, it was nine thirty, nearly time for his appointment, at Susan’s office. Susan knew by the glow on my face that I had self actualized.

As soon as the documents were signed, Sam kissed me, gave Susan her deposit check, and Susan took me home, demanding to hear every little detail.

She got so turned on, when I told her all that we had done and had talked about, while I was making dinner, that she dragged me into our room, threw me onto the bed, and, she raped me, using her double ended dildoe.

It hurt, but, laying under her, I knew that I had found out who I really was. I accepted her, gratefully.

Two weeks ago, we had a wedding. We told the minister that we wanted to renew our vows to each other. He had no suspicion that the bride was the groom, and that the groom was the bride. I felt entirely appropriate, as I stood there, in my pale blue wool two piece, a skirt and jacket, and, I promised to cherish and obey her, till death do us part.

So ends the story of how I became my wife’s wife.

THE END

 

 

 

© 1998
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