Carrie and Miranda
- 4 years ago
- 26
- 0
Carrie And Steve free porn video
Carrie and Steve
By Ricky
Part 1 - Carrie's Tale
Life was beautiful. Sun, sea, sand, water, fine food,
entertainment, a soft bed and a new husband to share it
with. Our honeymoon was everything we could have wanted,
except maybe too short. We spent a lovely week indulging
ourselves, then headed for our new home in upstate New
York. Now I grew up there and know that New York in April
can resemble anything from tropical to tundra, but Steve is
from the southwest. We met when he did some work for my
company and for the past year we had been seeing each other
as often as we could. It was a whirlwind romance; weekends
in Reno or California when he wasn't up here, then he
proposed. Since he normally flies all over the country and
my job is settled in upstate NY, he was able to convince
his company to transfer him up here. The only problem is he
really hasn't wrapped his mind around winter. Sure, he's
been to cold places, but it really hasn't really sunk in.
This became very apparent when he dressed in shorts and T-
shirt to board our plane.
"Honey, while I love your legs, you're going to freeze your
ass off if you get off the plane wearing those shorts.
Don't you have anything warmer?"
"Huh?"
I married him, I love him, but sometimes I wonder.
"I hate to be the one to shatter your illusions, but we're
going to New York, not Arizona. It's going to be cold
there. You need something warmer."
So he changed to something warmer, but he hadn't brought a
sweater or a coat or anything warm. We arrived after
midnight, stood patiently in front of the big belt waiting
for our luggage until it became clear our luggage was had
sensibly decided to stay somewhere warm. You probably know
the drill: fill out the forms, "Very Sorry, Sir", call in
the morning. We moved very smartly through the miserable,
cold rain until we found a taxi and I had a great excuse to
snuggle with him in the back seat to keep him from turning
blue. The lack of clothes were no problem when we got to
our new house, we didn't need any in bed!
When morning arrived, we ignored it, but eventually hunger
drove us from beneath the covers. One sniff of the rumpled
jeans and shirt from yesterday dissuaded him from putting
them on. We made a valiant try at washing them in the tub,
but it looked like it would be sometime around midsummer
before the sodden jeans would be dry enough to wear. A call
to the airport confirmed we were still without luggage, so
we ate breakfast in the buff. By now you have to know where
this story is going. I didn't see much wrong with spending
the last week of our honeymoon with a naked man but he
didn't think it was so funny. There was a lot of work to do
that is not easily done with his privates flapping in the
breeze. I had my clothes already in the closet, but
everything he owned was still in transit from Arizona..
I'm one of those people who hates to throw anything out, so
among the pile of boxes were some old clothes from before I
had lost a bit of weight. Steve is taller than I am, but
not too much bigger around, he was able to wear some of my
old stretch pants and a T-shirt. This may not sound too bad
but the pants were hot pink and the shirt had pink stripes
so it was obvious that these were not the preferred uniform
for a male of the species. This made the utilitarian white
nylon panties almost drab in comparison. I couldn't help
teasing him by occasionally holding a dress before him and
speculating how it would look on him or asking him if he
wanted to try a pair of lacy panties. When I found a box of
old bras I tossed one at him.
"You want to go all the way and put it on?"
I thought I was making a joke, but I had no idea what my
game had started. He had a look on his face I had never
seen before.
"Um, Honey, you want to sit down a minute?"
I sat on a box next to him and set the lingerie on my lap.
"Carrie, I think I need to tell you something about me,
something I thought was safely in my past but I guess I was
wrong."
The silliness had vanished and he was suddenly serious. I
waited while he tried to find the right words.
"You know I love you, but there is a lot you don't know
about me. We fell in love so fast there was never any time
to tell you about a lot of things that happened to me. I
really wasn't trying to hide anything, I truly thought
these feelings were over and done with. Look, you know I
told you that when I was a kid I was scared silly of girls.
I couldn't get the nerve to ask one out, I got tongue tied
any time I was alone with any girl close to my age. It was
awful, I wanted to have a girlfriend but didn't even know
where to start. It was even worse because my old man was
always giving me grief about being a wimp."
There was a look of ancient pain on his face. I was
beginning to realize how big the gaps were in what we knew
of each other.
"What I didn't tell you is that when I was about 13 and no
one was home I would dress up like the girls I was so
scared of. I started by snitching mom's panties and bras. I
was small enough at that age they were a bit loose on me
but I didn't care. Pretty soon I was wearing her pantyhose
and slippers, then her dresses and nightgowns. I could
hardly wait until they were gone so I could dress up. It
was the sexiest thing I had ever experienced, the nylon
panties just slid over my hips and wearing a bra gave me a
hard on like I had never had before. I would wait until the
very last minute to change back into my regular clothes,
betting with myself I could change back fast enough not to
be caught. Since I usually only had a few hours to play I
would wait as long as I could. I loved the feeling of my
prick pushing against the panties, I felt like a teenage
sex goddess. I would always whack off just before changing
back."
"I thought no one had noticed. By the time I was 18 I could
practically stuff my mother's bra and get dressed before
the rest of my family had left the driveway. Her clothes
were getting rather tight by then, but it didn't matter. I
was wrong about no one noticing, though. My mother knew
someone had been messing up her dresser drawers, but she
figured my sisters were the culprits. I had gotten almost
casual about dressing up by then, and naturally I got
caught."
For most of this monologue he wore an almost wistful look,
remembering his childhood, but now the pain returned to his
face.
"It was the summer just after I graduated. I had lied and
told them I had to work and stayed home to dress up while
they went to a church supper. I waited just a little too
long one night and was so involved in jerking off I didn't
hear my dad come home. He opened the living room door and
there I was on the couch, dressed in my mothers clothes and
rubbing my cock. I'm not sure which of us was more shocked,
but he completely lost control when he saw me. He beat me
silly, screaming at me and trying to rip the clothes off my
body while he hit me. When he saw the bra he really went
berserk. I got away and locked myself in the bathroom while
he pounded on the door. I took off the clothes and went out
the window. He was still beating on the bathroom door while
I climbed into my bedroom window, threw a few clothes in a
bag and took off."
I sat there dumbfounded, how could a little teasing have
opened these floodgates? By now the stranger who was my
husband was crying, tears falling freely. I took him in my
arms and tried to comfort him. He recovered slowly, arms
gripping me tightly as his tears slowed.
"It was only a couple of weeks until I left for college, so
I spent them with one of my buddies. His mother took one
look at my bruises and practically fainted. I suppose today
she would have called the police or something, but I really
didn't want to explain how this all happened."
"My mother played the peacemaker but I never was able to be
too near my father from then on. I lived in the dorm at
school, then shared places with other people so I never had
a place of my own. It took me a long time to be able to
date a real woman, but nothing ever seemed right until I
met you. In all that time I was almost never alone, I
simply never had any urge to dress up again. Then this
morning I put on your panties and they brought back all the
feelings I had forgotten. The weird thing was, every time I
started to get turned on the memory of my father screaming
and hitting me came back with it. When you threw the bra at
me I .. I... "
My shoulder was damp with his tears before long. I was
astounded by this confession, how could a parent beat their
own child no matter what they did? My own parents are very
loving, my father hadn't had to spank any of us since we
were old enough to talk. About all I could do was to hug
him and tell him I loved him no matter what he was wearing.
Our embrace gradually turned passionate, and I was almost
relieved to make love rather than cope with all this
unsuspected emotion. We both put our all into it, after all
this was our honeymoon. With exquisite timing the phone
rang as I was beginning to relax. It was the airline, they
had finally located our suitcases and we could pick them up
any time. In the afterglow of his confession and some of
the best sex we had had together I decided not to tell him.
If his childhood need had returned there was no better time
to explore it than now. I mumbled something about a wrong
number and got up from the bed.
"Stevie," I said as I looked lovingly at my confused
husband, "I think you just proved to my satisfaction you
are no longer a child or scared of girls" I don't mind if
you wear my old clothes until yours get here, and if you
want to try this on I will still love you. She tossed the
bra at me. It's up to you, lover, it really is. If you want
me to I'll go out and get you some new clothes when I'm out
of the shower."
I left him in the bed to decide and tried to soak away my
doubts in a great deal of hot water.
Part 2: Steve's Tale
Well, my father always called me a wimp, and maybe he was
right. I let Carrie write the hard part but this is my
story too. Perhaps it would be better to look at it as OUR
story, because we are still trying to work out the plot and
define our characters as a collaboration.
You probably don't believe the part about not wanting to
dress up for all those years, but it's true. The hurt was
still fresh when I started college. I tried a shrink at the
college health service, I was pretty damn confused and
hoped he would help. I soon discovered he didn't have a
clue about what was happening between his own ears, let
alone helping me get my head on straight. Between the
studying, partying and general chaos of college life I
gradually worked my way through the hurt. These days I wish
I had been born 10 years later, because crossdressers are
running for homecoming queen and show up all over the TV,
but at the time I didn't even know the word existed, let
alone that there were other guys who wanted to play dress
up.
I have tried to be honest with myself. I am a tech nerd,
and I happily spend hours in front of a computer immersed
in my own little world. It paid off, I got a hell of a good
job and for the last couple of years have shared an
apartment with a couple of guys I work with. I really don't
think I was trying to make it impossible for me to start
dressing again. My college friends helped me get over my
fear of women, but I never took the initiative and asked
anyone for a date. I think I became a class project,
everyone fixing me up with dates. Sometimes we saw each
other for a while but somehow it never clicked. You're not
going to believe this either, but I had never gotten any of
those dates into bed, I was still a virgin at 24 when I met
Carrie. I hadn't had the opportunity to touch a bra since
that night in my father's living room. OK, so crossdressers
are deeply into fantasy, but some things are too strange to
believe you say? Perhaps, but when I met Carrie it made all
the years of waiting worth it.
The way we met was hardly auspicious. I was the whiz-bang
consultant hired to help her company install a new computer
system, replacing the aging mainframe that simply couldn't
keep up with today's demands. This means when I walk into a
place everybody hates me. I'm the jerk who is going to
screw up the inventory system, louse all the accounting
records and route all the telephone calls to the wrong
desk. I'm the smartass who thinks he knows how to do their
job better than they do. I am the man responsible for every
little glitch and hiccup that will occur anywhere in the
plant for the next several years, the idiot management is
shoving down their throats.
Get the picture, you need a strong back to do what I do.
Carrie was a rising young star in the company and she was
assigned to be my factotum, liaison and general guide. She
was not pleased. In fact she was pissed, but far too nice a
lady to let on. At first I figured her for a stuck up
bitch. She was icily formal when we were alone. She
volunteered nothing but did give me complete answers when I
asked the right questions. For the first few days we sat
through endless meetings. I filled my computer with
megabytes of notes and was starting to get a picture of
what her company wanted.
Gradually I came to rely on Carrie, and she thawed when she
realized I truly wanted her to tell me what was needed.
After about two weeks something amazing happened, I
realized Carrie had become a friend; I was completely
comfortable alone with a woman for the first time in my
life. The day before I had to leave I had another first, I
asked her out to dinner and she accepted. My first date
that no one had to arrange for me. We spoke almost daily on
the phone about the details of the job. Throughout that
summer the personal parts of the conversation started to
outweigh the professional. The weeks I spent there seemed
all to few, New York is lovely in the summer, especially if
you are falling in love.
Aye, there's the rub. I really didn't know how to cope with
being in love, and I don't think she had any more
experience than I did. I was so busy when I was up there
that about all we could do was eat together and catch a
movie once in a while. We cuddled together and talked far
into the night many times, but I always returned to my
motel room. I'll be more honest with you than I was with
myself at the time: I wanted to make love to Carrie but I
hadn't the faintest idea how to ask her. I think there was
just enough of my fear of girls still in my head to keep me
from asking. I will always be grateful that about 2 AM one
morning Carrie decided to stop waiting for me.
"I've got some vacation coming and I'm trying to decide
where to go this year. I've been to Florida and DC and even
Alaska, so I was thinking of the southwest this year. Does
that sound like a good idea to you?"
I have a problem here. I want to give you both sides of
this conversation, but there was a notable silence on my
part. I hope you haven't decided that just because I don't
know how to come on to a woman I'm some kind of dummy. I
knew right away what she was asking and where she hoped it
would lead. Written out my thought processes would go
something like:
1. She likes me
2. I like her
3. I live in the southwest when I'm home
4. This southwest business is no coincidence
5. She sure as hell isn't going to stay in a hotel
6. I sure as hell don't want her to stay in a hotel
7. This must mean she wants to sleep with me
8. ME?!
9. Yeah, me!
10. Oh, shit! What do I do about my housemate?
11. This is a vacation, find someplace else to go besides home
12. Open your mouth and say something before she goes away!
"I have some vacation coming, too. How would you like me to
show you Reno?"
Once again I have a problem. Since she grabbed me as fast
as I grabbed her, our mouths were engaged in other business
and the conversation flagged once again. In fact, the rest
of the conversation consisted of "Come to bed?", or at
least all I'm going to tell you about.
While I'm making lists, you might want to know:
1. The room was dark, I didn't see her bra
2. She undressed herself, I never touched her bra or her panties
3. I was as clumsy as you might expect a 24 year old virgin to be
4. It didn't matter in the least!
A few weeks later, we spent a week in Reno and the casino
operators must have been mightily pissed. We spent all our
time falling in love and didn't gamble on anything but each
other. She was the other half I had never been able to
find. We were a world unto ourselves in one of the great
playgrounds of the world. On our last night I proposed and
she accepted. Love's fruition at last, and everybody lived
happily ever after.
Yeah, sure. Have you ever tried to arrange a wedding with
the two sides being 2500 miles apart?Her mother was a
saint! She took over the plans so subtly and cheerfully all
we had to do was speculate and the deed was done. She was
the lead negotiator, head logician, chief or strategy and
could teach any travel agent a few things if she had any
extra time. I assume my mother had a hand in locating the
church and other such details but I really didn't want to
know. My solo performances consisted of I trying on the tux
and selecting the best man. There was one duet as we
selected the rings but otherwise I was happy to be
relegated top the chorus until the final act. Oh, yeah,
they let me pack up my stuff for the movers all by my
lonesome. Just sign here, delivery in two weeks, thank your
for your patronage!
I'd tell you about the wedding, but I don't remember too
much. I remember being happy, listening to a lot of music,
grinning a lot, reciting the right words and shaking hands
with about a billion strangers who wished us well. There
are two clear and shining memories of that wonderful day.
One is the thrill when I heard "I now pronounce you man and
wife!" That part is going to last forever. The other is my
father hugging me, for the first time I can remember since
I was a small child, and saying "Congratulations! I love
you, son. She's a wonderful girl, I hope you will be very
happy together."
He actually said he loved me?
So, fast forward through a week at the beach, winging
homeward on a great silver bird and the arrival at our new
house and there I am, laying on the bed staring at the bra
my new wife has explicitly invited me to wear. I could hear
the water falling into the tub as thoughts were swirling
around my brain, Old memories: wonderful and painful. Lust
and love and sex: the delights of my wonderful and
accepting wife Fascination: the feel of panties around my
body after all these years. . Disgust: how could I have
forgotten to pack clothes for after the honeymoon.
Anticipation: I wanted to wear that bra, to feel it caress
my chest. Fear: Sure she said it was OK, bit did she really
mean it?
I realized that the shower was no longer running. The door
opened and Carrie came out with the towel around her hair
and not a thing else. Crunch time! I picked up the bra.
Part 3 - Carrie's Tale:
I was totally relaxed, hot sex followed by a hot shower had
left me calm and composed. I stepped from the shower and
plied the great, soft towel over my body, then wound it
around my hair. I was almost in a trancelike state,
serenely wondering what my new husband (wow - husband!) had
decided to do. I turned the door handle, stood tall and
entered the bedroom. Steve was sitting on the side of the
bed, stroking the bra in his hands. Even after the second
time today his face lit with desire when he saw me. He rose
slowly.
"Carrie, if you are really sure about this, would you help
me put this on?
Was I sure? I really didn't know. What I did know was this
meant a great deal to the man I loved. Could I reject him
like his father had? Never! I giggled, remembering how my
mother had told me that being married would be an
adventure, a safari into the unknown. I suddenly had the
image of Stanley asking his famous question of a bikini
clad Dr. Livingstone.
"I'm not laughing at you, darling, really. Here, hold you
arms out and let me help. You, know - it's OK to cheat and
buckle the snap on you tummy first, then spin it around.
That's what I always do"
"I've noticed, and that's what I did as a kid."
I hooked the bra together and gave it a snap.
"Carrie, I can't tell you how good that feels."
"Well, my mother always told me men were a bit touched in
the brain. Tell me, what do you do to fill it up?"
"I used to have a couple of stockings filled with birdseed,
but before that I just wrapped a couple of grapefruits and
used them. We don't have any grapefruit, do we?"
"Gad, I married a gourmet. Sorry, the refrigerator is bare.
Humm - let's check the kitchen."
I grabbed a pair of pantyhose and went in search of
something suitable. We finally settled on a mixture of
dried beans and rice.
"Well, if you get tired of this we have the makings of a
great casserole. I gave the pantyhose twist, tied it up and
found a knife to slice it off. "Let me see if it fits. Not
bad for improvisation. Here, let me adjust the straps, you
have bigger shoulders than I do."
We returned to the spare room and looked through the boxes
of old clothes. I was curious as to what he would pick.
Just what kind of taste did my husband have? Practical, it
turns out. Since we were supposed to be spending the day
fixing up the house (Day - yeah, it was 3 in the afternoon,
the day was half gone!) he chose a comfortable sweatshirt
and simple print skirt. No pantyhose or shoes available,
but I found a pair of Peds and his own sneakers went with
the outfit. I found a sweatshirt of my own and we tackled
the job of creating our home out of a pile of boxes.
I have to admit, he was kind of cute standing on tiptoe,
breasts thrust out, to nail up a picture. I caught him
twirling round, skirt flying, a couple of times just for
the shear joy of it. Eventually we got hungry, which we
solved with a pizza delivery. With no TV to distract us (no
cable yet!) we worked until bedtime.
"Come on, Steve, enough for one day. I need a bath and so
do you. Wanna shower together, lover?"
I managed to keep a straight face when we undressed, and
was rewarded by the sight of his sexy behind as he filled
the tub. I poured a capful of shampoo in the tub and soon
the bubbles were rising thick and luxurious. If we were
going to do this we were going to do this all the way, so I
lathered his legs and began to shave them. I'll never
forget the look on his face as I began to lather him up. He
was like a robot, compliantly moving his legs into position
for me, not really believing this was happening. I rather
liked running my hands over his smooth limbs, very sexy! I
rinsed him off and dried him in a big, fluffy towel then
climbed in myself to let him return the favor. You know
what. I really like having someone else shave the hard to
reach places. I could get used to this in a hurry!
When he finished drying me off I couldn't help taking him
in my arms, and soon it was obvious that twice wasn't going
to be enough.
"I see you're ready for bed, my husband. Just one thing
first, please. I don't think I would mind if you wore a
nightgown to sleep in, but I want to be the only one in
sexy lingerie when we are making love."
"Certainly. Do you want to put something on so I can take
it off or should we just turn off the lights?
Click!
Part 4 - Steve's tale
Whew! I don't know how I ever got the nerve to ask Carrie
to help me put on her bra, but I did and she helped. That
little giggle of hers nearly did me in, but when she hooked
me up and snapped the band against me I was in heaven. I
felt like a kid at Christmas as I looked through her old
clothes. I firmly squelched the urge to wear frills and
flounce and selected a practical outfit, which seemed to
please Carrie. Being able to move freely in a skirt was one
of the most delightful experiences I had ever had. When she
wasn't looking I just had to spin around and feel the hem
of my skirt slide across my legs. The pull of my bra as I
lifted a box or drove a nail into the wall was
indescribable. Even hiding in the hall while the pizza boy
made his delivery couldn't dampen my spirits. I hardly
noticed the time until Carrie threw in the towel.
She already told you about the bath, and you'll have to
invent your own story after the lights went out. The next
morning I was up and quivering with energy. Feeling almost
sinful I put on a different bra and new panties and padded
into the spare room to find clothes for the day. The
weather outside was improving, in fact it was almost
getting warm. I decided to celebrate by wearing a dress. I
was feeling almost smug as I made pancakes from the bag of
mix, started the coffee brewing and set the table. As the
pot filled with the rich, brown liquid I called the
airlines to see if our bags had returned. The lady was
confused, hadn't they called us already?
I think I married a very clever lady.
The enticing smells finally brought Carrie to the kitchen,
her robe askew and hair very sexily disheveled. I bowed to
her, towel draped across my arm. Oops, maybe I should have
curtseyed.
"Madame's table is ready. Please seat yourself and I shall
serve the first course presently." She gave me a look. "Ah,
Madame would prefer her coffee black, sweet and silent. Of
course!"
She revived slowly and was almost civil after the second
cup. Note to self: If you keep her up all night, let her
sleep in. It might save your marriage.
We had most of the boxes emptied by lunchtime, and I faced
a dilemma. Did we settle for opening a can so I didn't have
to take off my dress or did I find the most inconspicuous
pair of pants she had and go out to lunch. A look at the
cupboard mad it clear. I unstuffed my bra, (of course I
left it on, silly), covered it with a sweatshirt, hooked
the stirrups of the stretch pants over my feet and hoped
that one pair of pants looks much like any other.
It was the first time I had left the house wearing a bra.
This one was noticeably tighter than the one I wore
yesterday. It had felt good at first, but now I was
starting to wonder. By the time we finished lunch, I had
stopped wondering. It hurt, and without the weight in the
cups it was riding up and my nipples didn't approve. I
slipped into the Men's room and hid in the stall. Feeling
like the police would start beating on the door at any
second as removed the sweatshirt and took off the bra. I
slipped it into my pants pocket and hastily dressed. When
we returned to the car, Carrie slid her hand under my
sweats and grinned."
"I thought so. I guess we better get you some bras of your
own."
Thank God for the Wal-Mart Supercenter, that palace of one
stop shopping. Carrie helped me pick out a couple of bras
(sadly, plain white was all they had in my size), panties
of my own, pantyhose and even a pair of flats that fit my
feet. I got my first lesson in how to figure sizes, she
knew what size the old clothes were and added a bit for my
comfort. We treated ourselves to matching blouses and
nightgowns then headed to the grocery. We were both pushing
carts before we were through, the kitchen and the bedroom
closets would be well stocked.
"Hey, Steve. I got a couple of grapefruit, do you want any
to eat?"
"Yeah, get a bunch. I think I'm gonna dribble the juice all
down your body and then lick it off for dessert tonight."
"Jeez, if you hug me that hard you'll drain those boobs of
yours, you know. Still, it might be fun... "
"Quiet, here's the checkout, you vixen!"
Back in the car I said "We need to stop at the airport and
pick up our suitcases. Thanks for not letting me know, it
was a very special day."
"I love you, you silly man. You don't have to open them
until the honeymoon is over if you don't want to."
"Carrie, that may be an awfully long time, you know."
Libbie
- 04.11.2020
- 19
- 0
