What Happens If Your Wife Borrows Your Clothes?

by Lauran Travis

 

My wife had been dieting and getting fit for some months now, the benefits were her body had become well toned and thinner.

It was a Saturday morning and we were going to sort out the garden, when she asks to borrow a pair of my scruffy trousers and a jumper, she had lost enough weight to fit in my clothes, and she looked OK in them. So we did the jobs quickly with both of us working, so by lunch we were finished and having a shower. I came out of the shower to find her wearing a pair of my loose cotton boxers. I never wore them as there is no support, but she loved them, said they were felt cool. This was the start.

Soon I started to notice she was borrowing my boxers quite often, and when I asked her about it, she told me they turned her on, having something of mine on and wearing something not strictly conventional was a buzz, and besides they were comfortable.

Satisfied with this answer, the next time I was alone getting dressed I found one of her thongs, they supported me well, and the string between my arse cheeks reminded me of her, and that this was not quite right for a man added to the pleasure. When I let her know what I was wearing she got all cuddly telling me it was fun knowing.

She only had two thongs, so I had to try the weekday knickers after had worn the both, the silky ones were particularly nice, and as the feel of them kept me thinking about what I was wearing the effect was the same, a reminder of her and somehow I should not be doing this.

Next she started borrowing my jeans more, she said, since she had gone down a size, she had only bought new ones that went with heels, so to wear flats she would use mine.

We had more or less switched knickers by now and when I was slipping on a pair of pink satin knickers she suggested I try the camisole vest to match. Under a shirt and jumper nobody would know. So I spent the day with it softly riding over my nipples and pulling on my shoulders. When I got home in the evening, she gently rubbed my chest through the soft material, I was erect immediately. We loved it, and soon I was wearing camisoles as well as knickers.

She liked to wear my cotton shirts and boxers about the house, I did not mind, as she looked so good in them. I asked if there was anything that might have the same result if I wore it. She had time to think, and that evening asked to wear her silk pyjamas. No problem the material was fantastic, and she loved me in them as well.

It only took a few days before I was sleeping in her pyjamas every night, and when they got spoilt I borrowed a nightdress, which if anything felt even better as I walked around the house, the soft material wrapping around my legs.

I was used to seeing her in my boxers, sometimes a loose shirt, and at times jeans and a jumper when she was working about the house, but one day she borrowed a pair of dark chinos with turn ups on, and after saying how comfortable they were went out shopping in them. Coming back wearing a pair of what I can only describe as shoes in a male style. Our feet are almost the same size, but the one size difference obviously would be difficult in such stiff shoes.

I did wonder about borrowing her trousers if she was going to borrow mine, but when I tried a pair on they were too long, but the tight fit felt good, so maybe one day she would get a pair to wear with flat shoes, then I could borrow them. It was her tights that I borrowed next, the weather was getting colder and I was working outdoors, so to us, if no one else, it was an obvious solution to keeping warm. So when I was outdoors I would wear her thicker opaque tights under my trousers, it felt odd at first not feeling the trouser material, but as with all these changes it became part of my normal clothing. We were still excited by knowing what the other was wearing, and the wearing of something of each other's. So when I ran out of opaque tights it seemed natural to take a thinner pair instead, they did not look as good, but with trousers on, who was looking. Well she did, and suggested I immac my legs because they will look better, and feel lovely. And so I found myself in the shower washing the hairs off my legs, then moisturising, before pulling a pair of sheer tights on. I had to agree, they did feel wonderful, and without hairs looked much better, and it was a definite hit with her, who insisted on running her fingers up and down my thighs, it was like electric.

Next thing she started to borrow was jackets, as it got colder, I would notice my casual jacket would be missing, when I mentioned it, she told me I was welcome to any of hers, and when I told her I had tried her trousers on, and how they were too long, she saw that as no problem, my feet are smaller than hers, I could borrow some boots, and the heel would lift the hem of the floor. I suggested she was joking, but then fetched out a pair of cowboy style boots with a block heel. The boots felt odd with the heel, but as I have said before the tight fit of the trousers was very nice.

The next event was quite spontaneous; I was doing some work around the house in her jeans and boots, when she garbs my warm jacket and says she is off for a walk, I asked her to wait while I changed, but she pointed out she had my warm jacket, so I could use hers. I was very used to discrete female clothing, but her jacket was short, fitted and had a fur edge to the hood. But it was dull out, and who would be out to notice, so we went out dressed completely in the others clothes. She started calling me miss, and I referred to her as male. We had such a laugh it was inevitable we would do it again.

Our shopping over time had subtle changes, we would consider if the other would wear what we bought, and how they might look in it. I became quite casual about buying fresh knickers, tights and the odd camisole. And I know she was only wearing boxers, so must have bought some of her own. I bought shirts with her in mind, and she bought a pair of jeans with me in mind. But when she bought a cashmere jumper, we both knew it would be shared. The wool was so soft it was a pleasure to wear.

Without realising we would go out dressed in borrowed clothes, mostly a mix of hers, and the odd item of mine until one day I commented that I had worn nothing of mine the whole weekend. I just found her clothes so stimulating and at the same time comfortable.

The only time I was wearing my own clothes was to work, that is except for what was not visible, but she was borrowing my work clothes as well, she had changed where she worked to a warehouse, so she found my trousers and tops more appropriate. In the back of my mind I had the idea to change jobs so I to could wear clothes I preferred. This opportunity came as an assistant shop manager, at a mixed fashion chain, I worked in the men's department and found I could wear whatever I liked, not even getting adverse comments when I tried on her lemon cashmere jumper, tailored trousers and the heeled boots. The manager even commented how nice I looked, but I did think he was gay and might have been chatting me up.

Then there was the night we went out with some of the shop staff for a meal and a drink. We wore almost the same, jeans and a grey jumper, but borrowed, and we thought nothing of it, quite androgynous, but some of the girls chatting with us noticed how we were dressed and asked about it. At first we were thrown off guard, but they were curious about how we found the others clothes comfortable. Then one asked her if she would ever go out to look like a bloke, followed by would I ever hide my maleness completely. We replied that we are just enjoying the clothes, not trying to hide anything.

We did nothing about those comments, just kept up our common wardrobe. I was shaving all over regularly, had been on a course of beard removal, to make life easier I told myself. At work I was looking through the women's section finding cross over clothes, then getting them labelled as men's, there was some success with sales, and a strange feeling when I noticed them being bought, even stranger thoughts when a man returned wearing one of the female tops, if only they knew would they have it on?

Two weeks later were getting ready to go out for a meal, when she asks if I would try something new, what do you have in mind. After she explains what is in store and express my concerns but then agree. She shows me how to apply mascara, the effect on my eyes is good, emphasizing their size, and then she gives me a lip-gloss, which she says makes my lips very moist and sexy. And so I went out wearing a faded pink top, loose white flannel trousers, flip flop sandals and make up all on top of some very nice satin underwear, so when the waiter addressed me as madam, I smiled and said thank you. But it put into our minds about going much further, forget what we had said before maybe we could hide our gender.

I did not want to be to over the top for work, but I got my ears pierced, and though my hair needed a trim I let it grow till my ears were well covered. The mascara became a more common feature; the lip-gloss was more for her. I don't really know why I started using a clear nail polish other than I was looking after my nails filing them neat when I saw the bottle and had a go. Meanwhile she was unable to keep hers neat, always breaking them on the packages so gave up and just cut them short for practicality.

As the warmer weather started I found sandals cooler, but had always disliked the big chunky male ones, so now I could borrow hers I would take the flip-flop styles and with cotton trousers felt far more comfortable than anything I had in my clothes.

In the spring it was our anniversary but we could not decide what get each other, and as we idly looked into a jeweller's window we saw a nice understated emerald ring, I asked she would like to try it on, she gave a little smile and agreed if I tried it as well. Unfortunately they only had the one, but could get another my size by the end of the week. So for our gifts we exchanged rings, promising to wear them all the time. The girls at work noticed it and said how nice it was, and wished they could get their partners to wear any ring, let alone such a pretty one.

Sundays were our common day off since I worked at the shop, so we would try to make the day more relaxed, getting up late, dressing later. So it was this particular Sunday, I was in a nightie with a silk dressing gown over it, just watching the tele. When she asked if I had ever tried on a skirt, I admitted that I had but could not see how I could possibly go out in one, being effeminate is one thing, being a drag act is way different. She made it clear that we had a common wardrobe, which I knew, but she felt I was only using part of hers while she was using virtually all of mine. Another example of sexual inequality I declared. When I asked how she would feel about me wearing a skirt in the house, she leant over gave me a long deep kiss, then suggested we go see what the choices are. And so I wore my first skirt, long, soft, green cotton that brushed my calves as it swirled around. Very nice I admitted, but not for going out, just for our pleasure. Then I agreed to try a different skirt whenever I was staying at home.

Now I was considering all her clothes, I discovered the silky blouses, and under skirts. So when I had a weekday off, and she came home to find me in a dress with an apron wrapped around me, I knew she would approve.

When she was not around I even had a try of her shoes, walking in heels was certainly different, and the clip on the hard floor was something I had always liked to hear.

Seeing as it was mostly the sensation of the clothes I liked, she came home with stockings one day, and suggested the next time I wear a skirt to put them on.

I waited for the Sunday, and had a good hair removal session in preparation for the stockings, they were so fine and soft, I wished I had found out about them earlier, and combined with the tension of the suspenders on my arse, it turned out to be a wonderful. The other bonus not wasted by her, was that I did not need to undress if she wanted some sexual fun.

Another subtle change was the buying a new car, I had chosen the last with work in mind, so had a dull practical grey saloon car, now we needed a fresh one, and after looking at a lot of cars found a nice little 2 seater. I just saw it as a sporty style, but when I turned up at work I was told it screamed girlie car, and when I looked around, sure enough not many men drove these cars, then only black ones. I told her about what had been said, she just laughed and asked why had I not realised earlier, and it suited me anyway. Which I suppose it did, even I was thinking of myself in female terms.

This thinking was very noticeable when we were watching a video of ourselves, and for the first time saw how we walked. She took definite sturdy steps suitable for the sturdy shoes she wore, whereas I was more careful, the thin soles meant I could feel far more and did not want to hurt myself, but it was my whole walk that was affected, I held my wrists in, with my hands out, I walked more on my toes and took shorter steps. I looked so camp besides her butch, both of us were surprised with what we saw, had we changed that much, did clothes make so much difference.

Work affected our clothes with time; she got proper work boots, cargo pants and thick jacket. My work did not force changes on me they just happened. When I started to work more in the office, I felt much freer to chose what I wore as the shop floor did place some unstated restrictions. I would wear her silk trousers, or a blouse under a jumper, nothing I thought outrageous, just not for the shop floor.

Our hair went in different directions, while I did not get mine cut, she would have trims regularly, till it was getting quite short, and mine was almost as long as hers used to be. I wanted to get it trimmed but could not decide how to have it styled, maybe just go for a normal bloke cut for manageability. But she persuaded me that there are other choices, we looked through some magazines, and most of the styles were on women, but some men had a more adventurous look. And so my next day off I went for the appointment I had made earlier. I walked out with what I hoped was OK, but was not that sure I had done the right thing. It was sort of spiky and coming forward, as though I had just had a gust of wind on the back of my head, pixie style is possibly the best description, everything was gelled in place, but the thing that left me unsure was the tips were lightened, which emphasized the spikiness. I got home not sure whether she would like it, maybe it was to girlie, but I need not have worried, she came home with a clipper cut, number6 at a guess. We both asked 'do you like it' and both replied 'well it is not for me, but it looks good on you' I just had to get up earlier to wash and gel my hair now, this looking good was becoming time consuming.

My immediate boss, the gay one, really liked the hair, said he had thought of something similar, but lost his nerve when he walked in the door of the salon.

As I took more care of my appearance, I noticed my eyebrows had stragglers and would pull them out; gradually neatening them up left them narrower and better edged.

These changes were largely unplanned and just happened over time, but one day I was checking stock with one of the girls who was always complimenting me on my outfits, or new changes, when she held up a rather nice full skirt in lilac cotton. 'This is nice' to which I agreed it was nice, 'would you ever wear something like this?' I wanted to know why she was asking; she replied that it would be no surprise if I did. At home over some tea, I mentioned this event to my partner, she did not seem at all surprised someone should ask, the surprise is that I did not.

Without telling her I booked a session with a transvestite dresser, who said she could make any man look like a woman. When we meet she told me I was going to be very easy. She was impressed that I had my own underwear except for a bra, which she supplied and filled, then she applied loads of make up to my face, next she put me into a corset, to improve my shape she said, followed by a big frilly peach coloured blouse and a navy pencil skirt. It was her favourite wig, she said, a long black curly one ended up on my head, to finish she found some high stilettos, took some photos and told me I was beautiful. I felt uncomfortable; the clothes were nylon, the wig heavy and hot, and my face felt odd with the make up. After a polite while, I made my excuses, got changed back into my silk trousers and angora top, spiked my hair out and left. Convinced if that was dressing as a woman, I did not want it.

The subject came up one Sunday morning in the following weeks, when I told her about my experience with the dresser, and how I did not feel I would ever feel right if I dressed as a woman and went out. At the time I was wearing a long pink nightie my legs had been depilatated the night before, my nail polish was drying as we spoke, and mule slipper hung of my toes. She started to smile, then laugh, she took a picture of me sat there, then showed me the result on the tiny screen. Asking what do I see, male or female, I said somewhere in between. Then she suggested we go to the big shopping mall and have look around, but I was to wear the black trousers that have very full legs, they look like a skirt when you stand still which is why I never bothered with them, that was the point she said, and the lacy stretch top. Why I asked, to show you how much people take you for a girl, you have stopped correcting people when they address you as miss or madam, when was the last time you heard someone call you sir, I nearly said last weekend, but remembered they had been addressing her, which she loved as I got mistaken far more often. So I agreed to wear her suggestions, with nothing more than my usual extras like mascara. I had to wear heels with the long leg of the trousers, but that was fine in this situation, I was trying to look feminine after all. Once at the mall the plan was for us to split up so she could watch from a distance and see if anyone takes a second look, then to have lunch and go home. I wandered about for an hour, I bought some little bits, always being called madam by the staff, a sales girl wanted to know if I would have a make over with their products, I declined, but she gave me an invitation for another time. At lunch I accepted she was right, and wondered if I wore jeans and a shirt would I still be called miss. She was chuffed when the waiter came to her with the bill, and produced a new wallet from her back pocket to pay.

Back home she talked me into going out sometime in a dress, but it had been a challenging day in a few ways, so promised to not leave it very long before doing it.

The next day at work I was having a desk day, so choose her tweed trouser suit, the legs flared slightly, and the jacket was short and fitted, with a white blouse underneath, I felt this was a feminine outfit. I had to wear her plain brown boots and carry a bag; her suit had no pockets anywhere. After taking extra care over my hair and make up I was ready to see how it went down at work. To say no one noticed would be lie, some girls said nice, others did not seem to notice, and our gay manager was delighted, called me a fashion experimenter. Which I hope was a compliment. When I got home and she saw what I had worn, she let me know how thrilled she was at this new style.

Saturday night we agreed to be as much into the others gender as we could manage. She picked out my black suit, black shirt and matching tie, had her hair trimmed to a 4, and looked very handsome. I wanted to go to the salon for a trim and manicure, but there was no time, I only had time to get home and change really, so I put on the new underwear set I had bought, filled the bra with tights, made sure the thong was right, tightened up the suspenders, then stepped into the dress, it just had loads of soft sheer material, big full sleeves, a full skirt, with folded layers across the chest. There was just so much of it. I had some extra make up that I had been experimenting with, eye shadow, eyeliner, and a pink lip-gloss. She never wore any jewellery besides our ring, so I had a root through and found some long earrings, and a wrist full of bangles. Her stiletto sandals seemed right for the occasion, with a matching clutch bag I was finally ready. She was silent for several seconds, after a long kiss, told me how pretty I was, and how sexy I looked. We dined at a smart restaurant, the waiters all got our genders wrong which had us smiling way to much, and I discovered that I could slip my sandal off, then wriggle my toes up her leg, which brought a different smile to her face. Needless to say I had to undress her, and she took delight in removing the dress to find me dressed and ready for her next move.

For work I would choose practical outfits like tighter fitting trousers, but other times I enjoyed blouses with plenty of soft material, it just felt so good against my skin, and was a constant reminder of what I was doing as I needed to keep it under control. I also took to high heels the way they affected my walk and posture was pleasing as another reminder, if another was needed, of what I was doing, and of how she enjoyed the new me.

Our new roles became set when the store chain I worked for opened an on line service, and I was asked to work as manager, which meant I was able to hire my favourite warehouse manager to do all the warehousing and delivery. It also meant that her identity was fixed as male, and I was able to work in skirts if I wanted, as only my superiors knew my true gender, and if I turned up in a ball gown they would not have minded because I was good at the job. I didn't though, I settled into a suit style, which was practical and appropriate to the work.

Our common wardrobe idea had not worked very well as we now had separate wardrobes once again that the other did not use, and was not particularly interested in. But whether it was going out dressed up to the nines in my cream silk dress and sandals, or wearing a pink and black pin stripe suit with a satin blouse, I was happy because I knew she liked me looking like this, I had something to always remind me of her and there was a buzz from being unconventional. What more would need?

  

  

  

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