To Honor and Obey

by Melody Sims

 

I felt my orgasm approach as it welled to the surface. Linda had a velvet grip on my cock with one hand and a firm hold of my hip with the other. With each rearward stroke, she would bury her dildo inside me until the rubber scrotum collided with my own smooth sack. My sphincter muscle began to spasm as I erupted into my waiting hand. Her orgasm soon followed as she released my flaccid cock for a better grip on my hips. I could feel the waves crashing over her through our rubber union. She slumped over me in erotic exhaustion; her delicious body molded to mine. With labored breathe, she whispered, "snack time, sweetie." I looked up at our reflection in the full-length mirror, brought my cupped hand to my lips and consumed my warm, heady load. She softly wrapped her arms around my cinched waist and rested her head between shoulder blades. "I love you", she whispered as she slowly withdrew the eight-inch rubber cock from my smoldering ass. I repositioned my knees and knew that I'd be walking funny for a day or two. She lay on her back beside me and pulled me down into her embrace. She nestled my head into the crook of her shoulder and softly played with my hair. I draped my left leg over hers and my left arm across her firm, tanned abdomen. Her cock, still securely strapped to her crotch, leaned back under its own weight, the broad head pointing leisurely at its latest conquest. I gazed at it with slight contempt. This was not the way that I had pictured us consummating our marriage. Linda raised her head and took a sip from the wine goblet in her right hand. "Want a sip, baby?" she asked. I rose up on my elbow and drank while she held the delicate glass to my lips. The merlot tasted funny, mixed with the tinny residue of my cum and what was left of my lipstick. "Thank you", I said as I nuzzled back into her embrace. She sat the glass down on the nightstand, sighed happily and kissed me on the forehead. "What do you say we get cleaned up and find someplace to eat?" I softly kissed the warm, firm breast that I was nestled against and replied, "Sound's good to me." We rose together slowly, each watching the other in loving admiration. "You are such a hotty!" I said with a playful smack on her full behind. "Me? What about you, you naughty minx!" she said as she snapped the back strap of my bra. "Ouch, you little shit!" I exclaimed as I grabber her by the hips. "Careful princess, you might get more than you bargained for…" She looked me in the eye and waved her dildo at me. I lowered my gaze, as my cheeks flushed in embarrassment. The stiletto heels that we wore clicked seductively on the marble floor of the bathroom as we filed in together. "Would you mind, sweetie?" she said as she turned to face me. She placed her hands on my shoulders and shook her delicious hips, causing the heavy rubber cock to sway. I dutifully undid the straps that held it in place and lifted it from my lover. It was as heavy as it looked. I held it by the sticky shaft in amazement; I couldn't close my hand around its girth. I felt my own cock twitch as I took in the sight of the delicate French manicured nails at the ends of my fingers. I remember telling Linda once, that I thought there were few sights sexier than a well manicured hand wrapped around a thick cock. However, my initial picture was not of my hand or someone else's cock. She brought me out of my daydream with a soft touch of her hand on my forehead, as she brushed my bangs from my eyes. "Cheryl did a great job on your hair." She said with a confident smile as she assessed her work. Cheryl, a lifelong friend of Linda's, owned one of the premiere salons in the Kansas City area, and was a devout feminist. She jumped at the chance when Linda stated that she wanted to "soften my look" a bit. I am a natural blonde with blue eyes. I am also a child of the seventies, and proudly keep my "rock-n-roll hair" as a last vestige of that bygone era. Under Linda's guidance and Cheryl's hand, I could now easily pass for a young, slim Vince Neil or a flat-chested Pamela Anderson; with a little more eye shadow and lip gloss. The eyebrow shaping, waxing and French manicure and pedicure was an early wedding gift, from Cheryl to her best friend's new "metro-sexual" husband.

I told Linda, shortly after we started dating, that I cross dressed as a kid, and still enjoyed playing every once in a while. Well, she took that notion with both hands and ran! Not three weeks after I showed her my "stash" and she had replaced all of my slutty play clothes with an almost complete androgynous/ borderline outright sissy wardrobe. She was enthralled with having me mince around her apartment in a skirt and heels, and in a bra, panties and "cute" clothes everywhere else. My mom was the first to ask about my "new look". She said that I looked very happy and liked my "outfits", but suggested that "I" might try being a little more modest in "my" selections. We were talking in her kitchen one day when I asked her what she meant by "more modest"… "Honey, you are my son, I love you and I always will, but your fire-engine red bra is easily seen under your pink baby doll tee, and your matching thong is showing above your white hip-hugger jeans!" she said while hugging me tightly. I tried to explain that it was Linda's idea, but she rebutted that she had known about my dressing as a teen, and figured that I was just taking my "habit" to the next logical level. A mother's love is unconditional, but dad's take a little more work. He started in with the offhand comments like, "What happened Son? Did you get dressed in the dark and reach into the wrong closet?" He later said that he also knew of my habits as a youth and didn't care as long as I was happy and safe. I wasn't really looking for acceptance at the time, but it sure made things easier as Linda's and my relationship progressed. All but one of my male friends alienated me because of my new look, but all of my girl friends, who were at one time just casual acquaintances, now became my new best pals. I liked the idea of being seen with hot women on my arms and Linda enjoyed the comments and conversations about my "continued development". I soon moved out of the small town that I grew up in, and moved to KC for two reasons: I lost my job as an Office Manager because of "changes in the organization" and I was beginning to get a lot of flack from the local rednecks. Who's to say that the inseam of a pair of shorts should dictate what gender should be wearing them? Shortly after moving to the big city, Linda landed me a job in the computer-programming community that allowed me to work mostly from my small office located in her renovated downtown loft apartment. It also allowed her the opportunity to keep me skirted and heeled almost every day of the week. It has gotten to the point that I no longer ran, as well as one can run in four-inch heels and a cute pencil skirt, when one of the girls came by for a visit. On top of that, our sex life, which has always been great, had taken a gradual turn toward, how shall I say, a non-traditional venue… I have always been a big fan of cunnilingus, but fallatio never really did anything for me, which thrilled Linda to no end. She got head whenever she wanted, and I was more than satisfied with that and the occasional sex in the traditional format. She especially enjoyed it when I would go down on her after I had an orgasm inside her. I have to admit, that after I came, I was more than a little reluctant to lap up my own seed. I would be all fired up, before my cork popped, about licking cum from her steaming folds, and even contemplate drinking it fresh from the pump; but afterwards, I lost my taste for such adventures. Linda broke through my inhibitions with a steady stream of positive reinforcement along with a steady stream of sperm across my painted lips. It seemed that every drop that spurted from my cock, ended up across my tongue; whether from her swollen flower, her special "training" dildo or while she drilled my puckered ass with my legs held over me head. Soon after, I was lapping it up like it was peach marmalade and wanting more! Even though we were delving into the bizarre, we vowed to stay monogamous. We had long talks over doing nails or cooking or whenever we were together; it just seemed right.

We decided to marry after living together for a year. This was not the first time for wither of us, but we still wanted it to be somewhat traditional; I wore pants… They might have been side zipped, bun hugging, bell bottomed white silk slacks, that didn't hide the fact that I was also wearing a pearled thong, matching garter belt, lace top-seamed stockings and a garter; but they WERE pants. By the way, they looked great with the white sling-back pumps (three-inch heels, so we would look eye to eye at the alter), bolero-length silk jacket, lace camisole, pearl earrings and choker. Linda was a vision in her full-length gown of snowy lace and pearls. We also got matching emerald-cut solitaires in platinum as wedding bands. My folks were fine as were hers. My best friend stood next to me in his basic black suit and Cheryl was our maiden of honor. We married in November and opted for a ski resort honeymoon, which brings us up to the present.

I took our latex lover to the sink for a good washing, with Linda following closely behind. While I washed, she traced my outline with her soft touch; along my shoulders, down the delicate straps of my lace bra, down my sides to the top of the garterbelt, down the six garters to the tops of my stockings, over my perched behind, and back up to the nape of my neck. I finished cleaning the dildo and set it aside to dry. She unsnapped my bra while I detached the garters. She was already out of her bra and panties, but stood like a goddess in her silk stockings and heels. We undressed and showered (my favorite time to go down on my lover), toweled each other off and went to unpack and dress. Linda, of course, took the liberty of packing for both of us. While I lounged in a fresh powder-pink bra and thong set and looked through the local Chamber of Commerce circular for restaurants, Linda listened to the weather channel and chose outfits. She has always been a fan of ski pants of the skin-tight persuasion; and what better time to wear said painted-on pants than at a ski resort. She chose gray pants and a pink sweater for me, and black pants and a lavender sweater for her. Both sweaters were wool rolled-cuff in Bolero length. Our favorite hiking boots and coordinating scarf, hat and mitten sets completed our ensemble. A little pink clutch with mascara, lip gloss, money and room key for me, and we were off to enjoy the cool evening. We found a cute bistro down the block and ordered soup, salad and martinis. The server sat the drinks in front of us with a toothy smile and a "here you go, ladies". We just smiled to each other, raised our glasses and toasted gently; "to us".

  

  

  

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© 2004 by Melody Sims. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.