AdultTime Trans
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Straight, To Bi, To Gay, To Trans, To Straight (Pa free porn video
I don't want you to think we simply lived happily ever after. Nothing is that simple.
We've had our ups and our downs, and our ins and outs. We've had three major hurdles, so far. The first was me freaking out over the idea of having a boyfriend. As natural as it seemed to be with him, and as mind-blowing as the sex was, it was still a huge shift in thinking for me. The second hurdle was coming out.
The third was his affair. But more on that in a minute. As I want to talk first about coming out. Friends and family may say they support gay rights and all, and they may be fans of gay celebrities, but they act differently when it's right there in their living room.
And our relationship was even more complicated. We didn't consider ourselves a gay couple. We were two bisexual men in a same-sex relationship. We would see a good looking woman, and inevitably, one of us would say something like, "nice tits".
We were lucky enough to find another couple in the same situation. We didn't go clubbing, which seems to be the hallmark of modern gay culture, but we did find a little neighborhood gay bar which fit our interests. By which I mean it was a gay bar, with sports on TV, and no loud thumping music.
Any way, we met another couple; two bisexual men who'd hooked up, and stayed hooked up. Unlike us, they weren't looking for a relationship, but they'd gotten comfortable, and stayed together. So, we could always turn to them for conversation where we didn't feel like we had to hide anything, and occasionally, we'd get some advice on navigating this brave new world.
And yes, because you're wondering, we did all hook up one night. All four of us together, naked in their living room. No, it wasn't enjoyable for anyone, I don't think. They liked to play rough, where we liked things not so rough. We didn't go in for the spanking, or the leather, or the name calling during role play, or the face fucking. And they weren't into the holding, the massaging, or the kissing that we liked.
But, we all lived to tell the tale, and we stayed friends.
So, back to the affair.
Like a lot of couples, after we moved in together, our sex life dropped off a bit. We went from every night, to 4 times a week, to twice a week, to twice a month. I didn't think much of it, just a natural thing, until he started coming home late.
I made a joke about it, trying to cover up my fear with humor, and he answered bluntly: yes, he was sleeping with a coworker.
And her name was Angie.
That knocked me down. A woman. He was sleeping with a woman. I should not have been surprised, after all, we were both bisexual, but I was still hurt. I loved this man, and after talking with our friends about it, I realized he was getting from her something I could never, ever, give him: pussy.
To his credit, he broke it off immediately. And he said quite seriously that if I fucked a woman, it'd be okay with him. But, it was still there. He, and I for that matter, were always going to want, even if we said we didn't, a feminine touch.
I had an idea that was so crazy, it just might work. Yes, it was like something from a sitcom: I was going to dress up in drag for Halloween, and hopefully, jump start our sex life, and save our relationship.
But, it had to be a surprise. I can hear you rolling your eyes, but bear with me. I carefully made plans over a two week period, and finally on Friday, it was time to put them into action.
Unbeknownst to him, I took the day off. While he went to work, I went to a salon I found advertising in a local GLBT paper, and had them wax me. Legs, chest, arms, underarms, and the dreaded Brazilian. And yes, it hurt.
Then, while one of the stylists shaped the blonde wig I'd purchased, another worked on my face. He did some tweezing of my eyebrows, before covering my face in foundation, and painting my eyes up real purdy. Next was eyeliner, and false eyelashes. Some careful shading, and suddenly I had dramatic cheekbones. He outlined my lips to make them bigger, and gave me a tube of lipstick as a parting gift, telling me to finish them at home. Then, I got my toenails painted, and false fingernails glued to my real ones. (I was warned about accidentally poking myself in the eye.)
This was costing a small fortune, mind you, but it was kind of fun, and if it led to more fun that evening, even better.
The drive home was interesting. Other drivers really don't look at you behind the wheel, but I still felt like I was on display in the world's smallest Pride parade.
With two hours before he came back from work, I still had work to do of my own. I struggled into the undergarments, including a black bra, a waist cincher, and a garter belt. Satin panties, too. Then, I slid the black stockings up my smooth legs, and attached them to the garters, struggling to get the seems straight in the back. Next came the crinoline skirt to puff out the French maid outfit, and the shiny black fuck-me heels. (I'd ordered them a while ago, and practiced walking in them whenever he was gone. I was a natural, if I say so myself.)
I put on the big mass of blonde hair they called a wig, and finished my lipstick, and finally looked at myself in the full length mirror.
Hell, if he didn't want to fuck me tonight, I'd sit right here and jack off to my own image. I looked hot.
I lit some candles, poured some wine, and set out cheese and crackers, and didn't have long to wait before he came through the door. I'd like to say he took one look, swept me up in his arms and made love to me all night long, but that's not how it happened.
He just stared. Flabbergasted, if you will. Later he confessed he didn't recognize me for a solid minute. And I knew I had to take the initiative, because he was just too damn confused.
"'Allo, Monsieur! Have you 'ad a rrrough day?" I asked in the worst French accent imaginable. I walked as sexily as possible toward him, swinging my hips out, while being careful not to spill the glass of wine, or take a spill myself.
He finally cracked a smile as I handed him the glass, and continued in character. "Would joo like to talk about eet?"
"Or, perhaps," I kissed him on the cheek, "joo would like to forget?" I moved my hand to his crotch, and felt his dick growing in his slacks. There was my answer.
I fluttered my elongated eyelashes at him, and smiled before lowering myself to my knees. Carefully, ever so carefully with my long fingernails, I unzipped him and gently, ever so gently, so as not to stab him, I pulled his cock out, and kissed the end. He gulped his wine, and sighed as my lips parted to take the head in.
Then I pulled back, and looked up at him with what I hoped were big, innocent eyes. "Izz diss what you want, Monsieur?"
"Your accent is slipping," he chuckled.
"Zen I'd better stop tawking, oui?" And I took his hard member in between my ruby red lips. He helped me undo his belt, and unbutton his slacks, so I could get it all. I'd had trouble deep throating him before, but now, it suddenly became easy, for some reason. Maybe it was the angle, or maybe something else, but I had my nose touching his pubic bone before I knew it.
I'd missed blowing him. We hadn't had sex in a month, and I hadn't sucked on him for longer than that. And it felt good to be there before him, his dick touching the back of my throat. When I pulled back to breath and swallow my saliva, I realized I could taste his precum, and that he was close. Now, I loved when he came in my mouth, and I didn't hate when he came on my face, but I wanted more tonight.
I stood back up, (no easy feat in this outfit), and put my arms around his neck. I looked at him in the eye and asked quietly, "Will you fuck me tonight?"
"No."
"No?"
"No. Tonight, we're making love."
And we did. All night. He led me to the bedroom, set me on the bed, on all fours, pulled down my panties, and ate me out, just like that first night. Only with an enthusiasm I hadn't experienced before. He stroked my hard cock, as he alternated between kissing my love hole and my balls.
Soon enough, he fucked me from behind, slowly and deeply at first, picking up the pace as he went. If I thought he was close to cumming when I was sucking on him, I was wrong. He made love to my ass for nearly a hour, changing tempos and positions every 15 minutes or so.
After nearly an hour, he finally came inside me. But still, he wasn't done. He sucked on my dick for awhile. Then, he asked, no, almost begged me to penetrate him. Like I said, we'd tried it before and didn't care much for it, but now, we me dressed like this, it somehow appealed more to both. And so I topped him. I didn't last nearly as long, and I pulled out to cum on his dick and on his tummy. It seemed naughtier that way. I scooped up my cum and shared it with him, the two of us licking my fingers and kissing each other in a sticky mess.
We each came three more times that night, before finally collapsing, exhausted.
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
Before I drifted off to sleep, I wondered, should I dress up like this more often, or would it be easier to grow my hair long, pierce my ears, learn to do makeup, and start living full time as his girlfriend.
No. I didn't want to be his girlfriend. I wanted to be his wife. That night, I dreamed of wedding dresses.
We've had our ups and our downs, and our ins and outs. We've had three major hurdles, so far. The first was me freaking out over the idea of having a boyfriend. As natural as it seemed to be with him, and as mind-blowing as the sex was, it was still a huge shift in thinking for me. The second hurdle was coming out.
The third was his affair. But more on that in a minute. As I want to talk first about coming out. Friends and family may say they support gay rights and all, and they may be fans of gay celebrities, but they act differently when it's right there in their living room.
And our relationship was even more complicated. We didn't consider ourselves a gay couple. We were two bisexual men in a same-sex relationship. We would see a good looking woman, and inevitably, one of us would say something like, "nice tits".
We were lucky enough to find another couple in the same situation. We didn't go clubbing, which seems to be the hallmark of modern gay culture, but we did find a little neighborhood gay bar which fit our interests. By which I mean it was a gay bar, with sports on TV, and no loud thumping music.
Any way, we met another couple; two bisexual men who'd hooked up, and stayed hooked up. Unlike us, they weren't looking for a relationship, but they'd gotten comfortable, and stayed together. So, we could always turn to them for conversation where we didn't feel like we had to hide anything, and occasionally, we'd get some advice on navigating this brave new world.
And yes, because you're wondering, we did all hook up one night. All four of us together, naked in their living room. No, it wasn't enjoyable for anyone, I don't think. They liked to play rough, where we liked things not so rough. We didn't go in for the spanking, or the leather, or the name calling during role play, or the face fucking. And they weren't into the holding, the massaging, or the kissing that we liked.
But, we all lived to tell the tale, and we stayed friends.
So, back to the affair.
Like a lot of couples, after we moved in together, our sex life dropped off a bit. We went from every night, to 4 times a week, to twice a week, to twice a month. I didn't think much of it, just a natural thing, until he started coming home late.
I made a joke about it, trying to cover up my fear with humor, and he answered bluntly: yes, he was sleeping with a coworker.
And her name was Angie.
That knocked me down. A woman. He was sleeping with a woman. I should not have been surprised, after all, we were both bisexual, but I was still hurt. I loved this man, and after talking with our friends about it, I realized he was getting from her something I could never, ever, give him: pussy.
To his credit, he broke it off immediately. And he said quite seriously that if I fucked a woman, it'd be okay with him. But, it was still there. He, and I for that matter, were always going to want, even if we said we didn't, a feminine touch.
I had an idea that was so crazy, it just might work. Yes, it was like something from a sitcom: I was going to dress up in drag for Halloween, and hopefully, jump start our sex life, and save our relationship.
But, it had to be a surprise. I can hear you rolling your eyes, but bear with me. I carefully made plans over a two week period, and finally on Friday, it was time to put them into action.
Unbeknownst to him, I took the day off. While he went to work, I went to a salon I found advertising in a local GLBT paper, and had them wax me. Legs, chest, arms, underarms, and the dreaded Brazilian. And yes, it hurt.
Then, while one of the stylists shaped the blonde wig I'd purchased, another worked on my face. He did some tweezing of my eyebrows, before covering my face in foundation, and painting my eyes up real purdy. Next was eyeliner, and false eyelashes. Some careful shading, and suddenly I had dramatic cheekbones. He outlined my lips to make them bigger, and gave me a tube of lipstick as a parting gift, telling me to finish them at home. Then, I got my toenails painted, and false fingernails glued to my real ones. (I was warned about accidentally poking myself in the eye.)
This was costing a small fortune, mind you, but it was kind of fun, and if it led to more fun that evening, even better.
The drive home was interesting. Other drivers really don't look at you behind the wheel, but I still felt like I was on display in the world's smallest Pride parade.
With two hours before he came back from work, I still had work to do of my own. I struggled into the undergarments, including a black bra, a waist cincher, and a garter belt. Satin panties, too. Then, I slid the black stockings up my smooth legs, and attached them to the garters, struggling to get the seems straight in the back. Next came the crinoline skirt to puff out the French maid outfit, and the shiny black fuck-me heels. (I'd ordered them a while ago, and practiced walking in them whenever he was gone. I was a natural, if I say so myself.)
I put on the big mass of blonde hair they called a wig, and finished my lipstick, and finally looked at myself in the full length mirror.
Hell, if he didn't want to fuck me tonight, I'd sit right here and jack off to my own image. I looked hot.
I lit some candles, poured some wine, and set out cheese and crackers, and didn't have long to wait before he came through the door. I'd like to say he took one look, swept me up in his arms and made love to me all night long, but that's not how it happened.
He just stared. Flabbergasted, if you will. Later he confessed he didn't recognize me for a solid minute. And I knew I had to take the initiative, because he was just too damn confused.
"'Allo, Monsieur! Have you 'ad a rrrough day?" I asked in the worst French accent imaginable. I walked as sexily as possible toward him, swinging my hips out, while being careful not to spill the glass of wine, or take a spill myself.
He finally cracked a smile as I handed him the glass, and continued in character. "Would joo like to talk about eet?"
"Or, perhaps," I kissed him on the cheek, "joo would like to forget?" I moved my hand to his crotch, and felt his dick growing in his slacks. There was my answer.
I fluttered my elongated eyelashes at him, and smiled before lowering myself to my knees. Carefully, ever so carefully with my long fingernails, I unzipped him and gently, ever so gently, so as not to stab him, I pulled his cock out, and kissed the end. He gulped his wine, and sighed as my lips parted to take the head in.
Then I pulled back, and looked up at him with what I hoped were big, innocent eyes. "Izz diss what you want, Monsieur?"
"Your accent is slipping," he chuckled.
"Zen I'd better stop tawking, oui?" And I took his hard member in between my ruby red lips. He helped me undo his belt, and unbutton his slacks, so I could get it all. I'd had trouble deep throating him before, but now, it suddenly became easy, for some reason. Maybe it was the angle, or maybe something else, but I had my nose touching his pubic bone before I knew it.
I'd missed blowing him. We hadn't had sex in a month, and I hadn't sucked on him for longer than that. And it felt good to be there before him, his dick touching the back of my throat. When I pulled back to breath and swallow my saliva, I realized I could taste his precum, and that he was close. Now, I loved when he came in my mouth, and I didn't hate when he came on my face, but I wanted more tonight.
I stood back up, (no easy feat in this outfit), and put my arms around his neck. I looked at him in the eye and asked quietly, "Will you fuck me tonight?"
"No."
"No?"
"No. Tonight, we're making love."
And we did. All night. He led me to the bedroom, set me on the bed, on all fours, pulled down my panties, and ate me out, just like that first night. Only with an enthusiasm I hadn't experienced before. He stroked my hard cock, as he alternated between kissing my love hole and my balls.
Soon enough, he fucked me from behind, slowly and deeply at first, picking up the pace as he went. If I thought he was close to cumming when I was sucking on him, I was wrong. He made love to my ass for nearly a hour, changing tempos and positions every 15 minutes or so.
After nearly an hour, he finally came inside me. But still, he wasn't done. He sucked on my dick for awhile. Then, he asked, no, almost begged me to penetrate him. Like I said, we'd tried it before and didn't care much for it, but now, we me dressed like this, it somehow appealed more to both. And so I topped him. I didn't last nearly as long, and I pulled out to cum on his dick and on his tummy. It seemed naughtier that way. I scooped up my cum and shared it with him, the two of us licking my fingers and kissing each other in a sticky mess.
We each came three more times that night, before finally collapsing, exhausted.
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
Before I drifted off to sleep, I wondered, should I dress up like this more often, or would it be easier to grow my hair long, pierce my ears, learn to do makeup, and start living full time as his girlfriend.
No. I didn't want to be his girlfriend. I wanted to be his wife. That night, I dreamed of wedding dresses.
Valentina
- 21.03.2020
- 5
- 0
