monica
- 2 years ago
- 14
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Monica: Discovery free porn video
Monica: Discovery
I want to tell you about the biggest surprise of my life. It starts
with the day I caught my husband. No, not with another woman... No, not
with another man, either. Let me explain.
I went out to meet some friends one evening after work. I had come home
first and changed, and my husband was home from work. I was on my way
to the restaurant, when I got a call on my cell. Two of the girls had
to cancel for various reasons, so we decided to postpone to another
day. I remember pulling into a parking lot to have a brief
conversation. When it was over, I turned around to go back home.
When I got there, I found the TV on, but no one watching it. My
husband's car was in the driveway, but he was nowhere to be seen. I
figured he must have been at a neighbor's. I went to the bedroom - and
stopped in my tracks in the doorway, because the sight was something I
had never imagined.
My husband was laying naked on the bed, playing with himself. Oh, he
was really whacking away at it. And he had my white sling pumps hanging
over his toes. His feet are larger than mine; there was no way he could
fit into them. He was obviously imagining he could, though.
He obviously hadn't heard or seen me, because he kept right on stroking
himself off. I was fascinated. Not only because I've never seen him
masturbate before, but he's wearing my shoes, as best he can. And to
top it off, this is now becoming something of a game for me: how long
can I stand here and observe before he notices me?
The answer was: longer than he needed to get off. I saw him take some
kind of white cloth and wrap it around his dick. He was obviously
coming, the way he writhed and moaned. I was intently trying to figure
out what he was using to soak up his spoo. It looked like possibly an
old undershirt.
After he came, he lapsed into that post-orgasmic stupor I am so
familiar with. "Was it good for you, too?" I said.
I swear he went straight up about two feet, like a cat does when you
startle it. One shoe went flying across the room; the other fell off
his foot and lay on the bed. He landed on his side, where he could face
me. He stammered and searched for words, then finally said, "It's not
what you think!"
"Oh," I said, "what do I think?" I walked into the room and stood by
the bed.
"I'm not queer or anything."
I needed a minute to take it all in, walking around the bed as I
thought about what I was seeing. This was wild. I have never seen him
act like this before - not just the little love session with my high
heels, but his whole reaction to getting caught. He was guilty,
defensive and, I think, scared. Mommy had caught him with his hand in
the cookie jar. This must be what it's like when your husband is
fooling around with another woman. I walked around the bed and he lay
there naked, paralyzed from the neck down as his head turned to follow
me. It dawned on my how much power I had right then.
"You know, I've been thinking," I said, smiling. "I would really like a
new car..."
"Well, ahhh..." He went to sit up. I sat on one side of the bed, put my
hand on his chest and pushed him back down.
"No, baby," I said, "The only thing I want to extract from you now is
the truth. You're buck naked and I've just seen you smack your monkey
while wearing women's shoes. As the saying goes, you're in no position
to argue."
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything." He was silent, so I thought for a minute. "Do women's
shoes excite you?"
"If they're pretty."
"What makes them pretty to you?"
"High heels, bright colors, bows, straps..." he trailed off.
"How about strappy sandals?"
"Not really."
"Why not?" I asked sincerely. Then I realized how slowly and painfully
this was going. "Come on, honey, spill it. Don't make me search for the
right question to ask. You can start by putting some boundaries around
this for me. Do you want to wear dresses? Makeup? Have tits? Go out in
public?"
"I don't know about dresses. I never even thought about makeup. I don't
imagine myself as a girl."
"You imagine yourself as a boy, then, who just happens to wear high
heels?"
That got him on the defensive. His face closed down as he said, "Well,
you get to wear anything you want, Monica. You have a closet full of
shoes and you wear the same three pairs all the time. Two black pairs
for work and the black flat sandals you're wearing now all the other
times."
"You no like?"
"It's a little dull."
"What I have on now are called slides, dear." I shifted my tone. "I
feel uncomfortable wearing anything else lately. None of the women I
know ever wear red shoes or really high heels. The women I work with,
my friends, the neighbors - they all dress pretty much like I do. I
don't want to stand out."
"You used to, when we were dating."
"Not every day." I wanted to shift back to the original topic. "Is that
what this is about? If I wore my dressy shoes more often, you wouldn't
need to?"
He took a deep breath. "Not exactly."
I was leaning on the bed with one arm. I took my free hand and slowly
moved my index finger up and down his limp dick, holding it so my
painted fingernail was toward his face. After a pause, I said, "So, no
matter how I dressed, you would still want to wear women's shoes?"
Another deep breath. "Yes."
"Well, I can understand that," I said. "After all, I have all those
shoes, and even though I don't wear them, I don't want to get rid of
them." I was thinking a mile a minute, weighing all the alternatives,
trying to figure out how to proceed. "So here's the thing I'm stuck on.
I'm your wife, not your mommy. I don't like having you sneaking around,
doing this behind my back. Face it, that's what you've been doing.
There have been plenty of other times when I went out socially that you
got it on with my shoes, haven't there?"
Silence. I looked at him, expecting an answer. I had no intention of
saying another word until I got one. Finally, "Yes."
"Honesty is good. OK. Neither am I going to rescue you. You have to own
this. It's what you want. I'm not going to be the one who gets you to
wear high heels, even though we both know you really want to. So," -
how do I word this to put the onus on him, but let him know I'll be
there for him? - "You know I love you. Now if you really want this,
you need to ask me for what you want, you need to find out if it's OK
with me, and you need to do it NOW."
He thought for a minute, and screwed up his courage. "Monica, would it
be all right with you if I wore women's shoes when we're alone in the
house?"
"Yes," I said, "but I don't want it to go any farther than that."
"Okay," he replied.
"Now," I asked, "how are you going to go about getting yourself some?"
"I haven't figured that out yet."
"Are there any internet sites we could order from? Let's have a look
on the computer."
Silly me. He had salted away a file with about a dozen links to shoe
stores. He also had found out how to convert between men's and women's
sizes. We went to one site and I asked him to show me some shoes he
liked. He pulled up a black patent pump and a red Mary Jane with a
pointed toe. Both had incredibly high heels. I told him to use my
credit card to order them, and have them come in my name. To keep the
momentum up, I told him to pay the extra to have them overnighted to
us.
"Should you, maybe, get some lower heels to get yourself started with?"
I asked.
"Yes," he replied, "but we have to go to a different site for those."
We went to another site and looked around. There was one style that was
a sling pump almost like my white ones. "Take a look at those," I told
him. They didn't have white, but they did have fuchsia. We bought those
for him as well.
After the ordering was done, I sat back in my chair. "So what are you
going to do about your legs?"
"What do I have to do? Get different ones?"
"Shave them! I can't face hairy legs and high heels."
He wasn't liking this. "It's summer. What happens when I wear shorts?"
"If anyone says anything, which they won't, you tell them that your
wife wanted them shaved."
"They'll think I'm whipped."
"They'll think you're getting any, which they're not. Come one, I'll
teach you how to do this so you don't bleed to death."
---
Two days later, the shoes arrived. That evening after dinner, we opened
them together. "Which pair first?" I asked.
"The red ones."
I took one shoe out of the box and looked at it. "You know, from the
front, it looks almost like a little girl's shoe."
"I like the mixed message it sends."
"Yeah, fuck-me innocence. Put it on."
He put them on and buckled them. It kind of frosted my ass to see how
shapely his legs were, since I have a constant problem with saddlebags.
I was also turned on to see him in heels, which I hadn't expected.
"What are you going to wear?"
"I suppose I could wear heels." I went to my closet and pulled out my
red pumps with ankle straps. It has to have been three years since I
last wore them. I stepped into them and swung my feet over to him.
"Would you mind?"
"Not at all." He buckled each strap. Then he gave a long passionate
kiss to the front of each shoe. I felt the pressure through the leather
and I was surprised how much I liked it. When he was done, I pushed him
backwards onto the bed and climbed on top of him.
There was something different about him. He was more graceful, more
patient, and less rushed. He was more responsive to me and he seemed to
feel better about himself. The sex was fantastic.
Afterward, I told him, "This'll be great. You can have a closet full of
shoes just like mine."
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