Jennifer s Journey Becoming the Perfect Housewife Part 4
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Jennifer's Journey, Becoming The Perfect Housewife, Part 7 free porn video
Jennifer's Journey - Becoming the Perfect Housewife, Part 7
Sharing with my Sister
Over the weekend, Sarah and I talked more about the idea of letting my
sister Caitlin know about the new me. Sarah was very helpful, even
pretending to be Caitlin and letting me rehearse my part of the
conversation. I really didn't know how Caitlin would react but I knew I
wanted to tell her. Other than Sarah, Caitlin was my only family, since
both my parents had passed away.
Sarah and I talked through a few different scenarios. Surprisingly, one
of the toughest to think through was the outcome I wanted most. What if
she isn't repulsed or hangs up on me? What if she seems accepting and
understanding? Then what? How do I leave it with her? Do I just say,
"Well that's my mind-blowing story, good-bye," at the end of the
conversation? Sarah, of course, had the answer for everything.
"If the conversation goes well, then invite her over for lunch," Sarah
suggested.
I talked it over again with Dr. Mitchell on Tuesday at my weekly
therapy session and also with Vicki over lunch. By Tuesday night I was
ready to make the call. I steeled myself with a glass of white wine and
dialed Caitlin's number.
I was hoping that Caitlin's husband, Jeff, wouldn't answer the phone. I
never really liked him. He's a big, important, rich lawyer so Caitlin
is well taken care of financially. But he seems like kind of a brute
and I never thought he was very smart. He spent a lot of time playing
golf and I expected he wasn't much help in taking care of their new
baby daughter, Emily, who was about 8 months old. I never really
understood what Caitlin saw in him and I expected that she wasn't very
happy. But she never complained to me.
Fortunately Caitlin answered. She seemed surprised to hear from me. I
hadn't called her since Christmas and here it was early February. Worse
than that, I hadn't seen her in person since right after Emily was
born. I asked her if she was alone and had time to talk and she said
she did. I made a little small talk, asked about Jeff and Emily and
what-not. Then I got down to business.
I started out by letting her know that I was making some changes to my
lifestyle and that I wanted her to know about it. And then I gave it
all to her. I think I talked for ten straight minutes without stopping
for a breath. When I was done, I heard nothing from the other end of
the phone. "Caiti, are you there?"
"I'm here," she replied. "I'm just...speechless."
"I'm sorry to lay this all on you like this. I'm sure it's kind of a
shock," I said.
"No, it's not that," she answered. "I'm just so happy that you decided
to tell me. I'm...touched. I'm sure it was hard for you to make this
phone call but I'm really glad you did. Look, I'm not all that
surprised that you like, well, girl stuff. I've always suspected that
you were trying on my clothes and make-up when we lived at home. Years
ago Sarah told me how the two of you shared many interests that most
married couples don't - things like shopping and clothes and whatever.
And I understood exactly what Sarah was saying. This is nothing to be
ashamed of. It's great that you have the money and the freedom and a
wife that allows you to live the way the want. It was the right thing
to do to let me know. Thank you."
She thanked me? I never imagined the call working out like this.
It was time for me to take the next step. "Caiti, Sarah and I would
like to know if you would like to come up here for lunch some time, you
know, to meet 'Jennifer'".
"I'd like that," Caitlin said. "I'd have to bring little Emily along."
And so we made plans for next Monday - just six days away. Caitlin
lived a little more than an hour away, so it wasn't going to be that
big a deal for her to drive up, although I appreciate everything with a
little baby is more complicated.
I recounted the conversation with Sarah who was thrilled with the
outcome.
An Errand
Thursday morning this week was another whirlwind. Between getting Sarah
off to the gym and then to the office and lunch and getting myself out
the door to get to my group session, Thursday mornings were always
frantic.
Sarah had returned from the gym and had taken her shower. I was just
finishing blowing out Sarah's hair when she suddenly spoke up. "Oh,
Jen, I almost forgot. Will you be going over to Mayfair later?" Sarah
asked.
What kind of question was that? She knew perfectly well that I was
heading over to Mayfair, first for my group session with Dr. Mitchell
and then to have lunch with Vicki. "Yes, I'm going to Mayfair. Why?"
"I was hoping you could do a favor for me." She held up a little green
paper tag. "I dropped my shoes off at the shoe repair place on Broad
Street and I was hoping you could pick them up for me."
What was she asking me to do? Even though I had been living practically
full time as Jennifer, I really wasn't going out in public, alone,
except to the small number of places that I was familiar with and knew
I'd be safe, like Dr. Mitchell's and Vicki's house and the salon.
Sometimes I went into public, but I was always with Sarah and that made
me feel safe, like the times we would go to the mall on Thursday
evenings.
I never even went outside my house into my yard as Jenny. Even though
the houses in our neighborhood were far apart, my neighbors still knew
me as John (although they hadn't seen him for a while). Even pulling
the car out of our driveway was something that made me nervous, always
first checking to ensure that nobody was out walking their dog in front
of our house. And while I had grown to love driving around dressed as
Jenny, I couldn't relax until I was at least a few blocks away from our
house.
Going to the shoe repair shop was not exactly the kind of thing I did.
I started to protest saying I wasn't comfortable with this.
"On, come on Jenny, don't be such a sissy," she said with deliberate
irony. "It's just a pair of shoes. You'll be in and out of the shop in
two minutes. Please Jenny. Don't make me drive all the way across town
just to pick up some shoes."
"Alright, I'll do it," I surrendered. I really didn't like the idea but
I just felt that I couldn't say no.
I decided to run the errand after my group session with Dr. Mitchell
and before going to Vicki's house.
I found the shoe repair place by the address on the little green claim
ticket. It was in a small strip mall about five minutes from Dr.
Mitchell's office. There were plenty of spaces in the parking lot and I
didn't see too many people around. That was encouraging. I parked and
gathered my nerve.
This should be no big deal. I'd been in public before. Just this time I
would be on my own. I grabbed my purse off the front seat and climbed
out of my car. I crossed the parking lot listening to the sound of my
high heeled boots echoing off the pavement. I stopped briefly to check
myself in the reflection of the window of another shop. I thought I
looked nice in a hip-length quilted Burberry jacket, Gloria Vanderbilt
jeans and a tight black sweater. As I looked at my reflection I
thought, "Wait a minute. What was Sarah doing all the way over here in
Mayfair?" I cleared that question from my mind and continued into the
shoe repair shop.
Inside there were a number of other customers. An older man and a
younger woman were seated on the red vinyl chairs, apparently having
"while-you-wait" service. A middle-aged woman was standing at the
counter with two pairs of shoes to drop off. She appeared to be getting
inpatient from waiting. She half turned to me and said over her
shoulder, "The service here is terrible. I've already been waiting for
five minutes." I said nothing in return.
After a moment an older gentleman appeared from the back room and
started serving the impatient woman. So far so good. No disasters, no
comments. The impatient woman didn't even look at me when she spoke to
me.
I avoided eye contact with the other customers for a while, pretending
to be interested in the display of shoe care products hanging on the
wall. But at one point I did glance over to the pair on the chairs. The
man was absorbed in a Golf magazine and hadn't noticed me at all. The
seated woman, however, met my gaze directly and gave me a sly smile.
She knew. I could tell. But didn't say anything. I broke eye contact
with her immediately and went back to studying the display wall.
The woman in front of me was taking forever explaining this and that
about what was wrong with her shoes. I was getting anxious. I was
thinking about leaving the store without even getting Sarah's shoes.
"Can I help you, miss?" a woman said. I hadn't noticed that the shoe
man's wife had joined him at the counter and was ready to help me while
her husband dealt with the impatient woman.
"Oh, yes, thank you," I managed to squeak. I think I heard the seated
woman snicker, but it could have been my imagination. I handed the
woman my claim ticket and she left to find Sarah's shoes, returning
with a brown paper bag. She pulled out a pair of Sarah's Ferragamo
patent leather pumps, looking shiny and new, and displayed them for my
approval.
"They look great," I said as naturally as I could.
"Such lovely shoes," the shoe lady said. "Would you like to try them on
to make sure they're alright?"
"No thank you." Please , please just put the shoes back in the bag and
let me leave. It was then that I felt the shoe lady's eyes focus on me
and her brain began to process what was in front of her. I could sense
her confusion and unease with the image in front of her. She placed
Sarah's shoes back in the bag and handed them to me.
"Thank you," I said and turned to leave, grateful to be able to escape.
"Excuse me, that will be fifteen dollars," she called after me. This
time the seated woman definitely laughed.
I hadn't even thought about paying. I prayed that I had fifteen dollars
in my purse. I frantically began rummaging through my pocket book and
came up with a twenty dollar bill. I handed it to the shoe lady who
handed me back my change.
"Thank you," I mumbled again and turned on my heel to leave.
"Thank you, dear. Come again," the shoe lady called after me.
I practically ran to my car. I wanted to just sit there for a few
minutes to calm down, but I saw the seated woman who had laughed at me
leaving the store. I couldn't bear the thought of her seeing me again
so I drove out of the parking lot and over to Vicki's house.
Once I got there, I recounted the whole story. I even asked Vicki for a
glass of wine to settle my nerves. She seemed quite put out with me
after hearing my tale. "Jenny, it's all in your head. You have as much
right as anyone to go where ever you want. And look at you. You're
beautifully dressed, your hair is fabulous - you look much nicer than
most women I see around town."
"But I'm not a woman and people can tell that when they bother to
look," I explained.
"Jenny, as a woman, real or not, people you don't even know are going
to judge you all the time. People will always find something to
criticize. It doesn't matter who you are. And don't expect all women to
be kind and understanding. Most are, but many aren't. I think you
should get on with living your life and not care so much about what
other people think."
Vicki gave me plenty to think about for days and weeks to come.
Another Friday
Friday came before I knew it and so it was time for another day of
massages followed by lunch with Mark. When I asked Sarah if she'd be
staying for lunch, she said, "Of course not. Three's a crowd."
I was enjoying the massages more and more each time. I would hold
Sarah's hand and gently stroke her hair and face as Mark worked between
her thighs, bringing her to an explosive orgasm with his hands.
And then it would be my turn. I was more relaxed each time. I no longer
fought the urge to moan or purr or make whatever noise came naturally
as Mark worked his magic on me. Mark would sometimes talk softly while
massaging me, things like, "just relax now," or "breathe deeply," or
"let yourself go." I enjoyed hearing the sound of his voice, while his
strong, knowing hands worked over my soft, skinny body.
And when it was over, Sarah, now freshly showered and dressed for her
own lunch engagement, would take Mark back to the guest room before
leaving. I would head upstairs to get myself cleaned up and dressed for
lunch.
Since Sarah had objected so strenuously to the cute jumper I wore last
week, I asked her to help me pick out an outfit that she thought would
work better. She suggested one of my sheath dresses, the ones I
sometimes like to wear when I serve Sarah dinner in the evening. I
thought this was much too fancy for a simple lunch at home. Sarah
relented and we agreed on a silky, slightly shear blouse in light blue
and a pretty - and pretty short and pretty tight - navy blue skirt. I
wore a lacy camisole under the blouse since you could see through it in
the right light. With some dark stockings and heels, the outfit was the
perfect example of "understated elegance".
After I emerged from my quick shower, I noticed a note taped to the
bathroom mirror. It said, "If you're looking for the buttons, I took
them. Love, Sarah." I had no idea what that meant until I got dressed.
As I started to button up the blouse, I realized that the top two
buttons were missing. Sarah had snipped off the top two buttons of my
blouse to ensure that left part of my chest exposed! I should have been
angry, but I actually found it funny. With the top buttons missing, the
top of my pretty camisole was exposed, but I thought it looked pretty -
and pretty sexy. I put on my jewelry and some perfume on my wrists and
my neck. I decided to dab a bit more perfume in my "cleavage" since my
chest was so exposed by my partially buttoned blouse. I slipped on a
pair of sexy black sling backs with 3 inch heels and I was ready.
I came downstairs to find Mark at the table, freshly scrubbed, working
away on his cell phone and appointment book, just like last week. But
unlike last week, there was an enormous bouquet of red roses in a vase
on the kitchen table. He smiled when he saw my reaction, but he was on
the phone so he couldn't say anything. I also felt his eyes on me - and
especially my legs - as I went to tie on my apron.
I finished getting lunch ready and Mark put his phone and appointment
book away. I asked him where the flowers had come from.
"They're from me. It's Valentine's Day tomorrow. And I thought that my
two favorite clients deserved a dozen roses each."
I suddenly felt a tiny bit dizzy. But I managed to stay focused on
getting lunch served.
I was checking on the soup when Mark got up from the table.
"You look very nice," he said.
"Why thank you," was all I could manage in response.
As I was stirring the soup, Mark came up from behind me and leaned in
close. I felt his body brush up behind me as he craned his neck over my
shoulder, leaning his head over the pot of soup. He breathed in deeply
though his nose. "Mmmm, smells good. And the soup smells good too." He
grinned again.
"OK, mister," I said sternly. "Enough of that. Why don't you sit down
and let me finish up here without your distractions."
He obediently returned to the table. I was very flustered by his good-
natured flirting, if that's what it was.
Once again, over lunch, he was an endless source of funny stories and
wonderful jokes. He imitated voices of some of his clients and other
people he encountered and had me laughing out loud.
Over dessert, I decided that today it would be my turn to ask him some
personal questions.
"So, Mark, do you have a girlfriend?" I asked.
He seemed a bit surprised by the question. Good, I thought. It's about
time someone other than me was surprised by something.
"Well, no, actually, I don't."
"Well why not?" I pressed. "You seem like a nice guy and I'm sure girls
think you're nice looking." Yikes, where did that come from?
"I guess," he modestly replied. "But honestly, I've had trouble meeting
the kind of girl that I can get excited about."
"Oh really," I shot back. "And what exactly is that 'kind of girl'?"
He let the silence hang in the air for just a moment, then said, "Well
if you must know, Jenny, you are. You are the kind of girl I can get
excited about."
Oh God. What was going on here? "But I'm not really a g--" I didn't get
to finish the sentence.
"Trust me, I know exactly what you are and what you aren't. But believe
me, I find you very exciting. You're right, I don't have any trouble
meeting ordinary girls, but they're not interesting to me. But you,
you're more than interesting. You're fascinating. And very sexy."
I couldn't say a word. I quickly got up and cleared the dessert plates.
I'm not even sure Mark was finished with his yet. It was only about
1:10, but I said to Mark, "Well, look at the time. I'm sure you're
anxious to get onto your next appointment."
"OK, let me get my bag." I could hear the disappointment in his voice.
He knew I was throwing him out.
I walked him to the door. He said, "I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have
said those things. I'm sorry if I upset you. But it's all true. I
didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"It's OK, really," I said softly, not really sure if was OK or not.
"And thank you for the lovely flowers," I added softly.
And again, without any warning, he quickly swooped down and planted a
soft kiss on my cheek and thanked me for "a delicious lunch and
delightful company," and he was gone.
Two hours later, Sarah retuned home from her lunch out. "So how was
lunch?" she cheerfully asked.
Where do I begin, I thought to myself. Where do I begin?
Another Lunch
So now I was becoming quite the lunch hostess. It was now Monday and I
had prepared a nice spread for my sister Caitlin who was on her way to
our house. She called from the road to let us know she'd be ten minutes
late.
Sarah helped me pick out a pretty dress to wear. It had short sleeves
with a delicate floral print. The skirt was full and fell to below the
knee. I wore my favorite open toed pumps. Sarah let me borrow a
necklace that looked nice with my dress. I worked extra hard on my hair
and make-up. I was really pleased with how I looked.
I had just finished setting the dining room table (for three because
Sarah was joining us) when the door bell rang. I was excited that my
sister was here. I ran to the door as quickly as I could in my high
heels. I opened the door and there was Caitlin, dressed smartly in
black wool pants and black boots and a cropped tan lambskin jacket over
a crisp white cotton blouse. She had an enormous bag over one shoulder
and was holding her adorable little daughter Emily in her arms.
Caitlin was speechless. I think she was in shock for a moment and
suddenly I had a bad feeling about things. But fortunately Sarah
appeared and gently led Caitlin into the house and let her sit down.
"Oh my God," said Caitlin. "I had no idea. I didn't know that you
looked this good - or had so completely...transformed yourself. I knew
you'd be dressed like a girl when I arrived, but Wow!" Caitlin
recovered herself somewhat and took me in slowly, making me spin around
so she could see me from every angle. "You are stunning, John, I mean
Jennifer. I'm sorry, I'll try not to do that again. You really look
like a woman. And when did you get so skinny? Oh my, look at your
nails. And is that your own hair? You've really gone all the way with
this, haven't you? I mean, you're beautiful."
It was clear to me that her shock had nothing to do with the fact that
I was a sissy or that I was dressed in girls' clothing. But she was
very surprised by the degree to which I had adopted the female role.
After a few more minutes, Caitlin was back to her old self. She
introduced us to little Emily as "Aunt Sarah" and "Aunt Jenny." I
really liked that.
I served up lunch and we began eating. Caitlin and Sarah took turns
holding Emily or else Caitlin let her crawl around the dining room.
Emily certainly seemed to be enjoying herself.
During the first 15 minutes or so of lunch, all the conversation seemed
to revolve around me. Caitlin had many questions for both of us. I was
happy to provide explanations, after all that's why we invited her. But
interestingly, after the initial shock had worn off and Caitlin's
questions were answered, the rest of lunch turned quite...conventional.
It seemed as if three old girlfriends were gathered for lunch and were
just chatting about this and that. Caitlin no longer seemed preoccupied
with how her brother was dressed. Stranger still, it seemed as if her
brother wasn't even in the room. The conversation went into topics that
would never have brought up if "John" or any man had been in the room.
In particular, I heard all about Caitlin's husband, Jeff, in ways that
I never had before. Clearly Caitlin was not in a happy marriage, as I
had suspected. Jeff sounded like a thoughtless, selfish jackass. And
clearly this was something that Caitlin had shared with Sarah before
because Sarah seemed to know all the background. At one point the girls
kept referring to Jeff as "TBD". "And you know what TBD did next..."
or, "I'm sure TBD is sleeping with his secretary" and so forth. I had
to interrupt to ask what "TBD" stood for. "The Big Dope," the two of
them responded in unison. Oh my. As a girl I was hearing a lot more
than I bargained for.
I did my best to join in the conversation when I could. We chatted
about things like bargains each of us had found on EBay and celebrity
gossip and recent movies. Caitlin wanted to know about chicken in white
wine dish I had prepared and seemed impressed by how much I knew about
cooking. But when the conversation turned to problems with Caitlin's
husband or women's health issues (including some details of Caitlin's
pregnancy that I really didn't need to know about), I really couldn't
participate.
Best of all, we talked about Emily. I found myself fascinated with
hearing stories of things she did and how she was growing up and how
she reacted to different situations. She was a lovely little girl. Now,
my sister is a very beautiful woman - and I am very happy to say I look
a bit like her. Caitlin has lovely thick hair that falls to her
shoulders in the softest shade of red I've ever seen. She has the same
pale skin and blue eyes that I have. Our mouths are similar too - we
both have pretty smiles (or so I'm told). But little Emily doesn't
really look like Caitlin. Caitlin's husband has dark hair, brown eyes
and olive skin, and Emily inherited more of his coloring than
Caitlin's. It would have been nice if Emily had Caitlin's beautiful
skin and eyes and hair, but she was beautiful little girl anyway.
I cleared the lunch plates and brought out a fruit salad that I had
made for dessert. Then I heard Emily start to make a fuss. "Oh, she's
hungry," Caitlin explained. She scooped Emily up from the floor and
started to unbutton her blouse. She exposed one of her breasts and
started feeding Emily right in front of me. Sarah wasn't fazed at all
by this. I did my best not to act uncomfortable. But why shouldn't
Caitlin do that here? She would never do this in front of John, but in
the company of two other girls, why not?
I did my best not to stare. It's not that I wanted to look at my
sister's breasts - but it was hard to keep my eyes off of little Emily
working away. It really was an adorable thing to see. Remarkably,
Caitlin managed to eat her dessert while Emily did her thing.
When all four of us were done eating, Emily started to look drowsy.
"Jenny, come here," Caitlin said. She reached into her bag and took out
a cloth diaper and threw it over my shoulder. She then placed tired
little Emily into my arms. Emily dropped her little head onto my
shoulder. I had never held a little baby like this before. I loved it.
I loved the feeling of this little head on my shoulder and feeling her
soft, fine hair brushing against my neck. I loved hearing her soft
steady breathing and looking at her tiny little fingers that were
resting on my breast.
I walked around the living room, gently swaying back and forth and
whispering softly until I was sure that Emily was fast asleep. Caitlin
offered to take her back from me, but I asked if I could hold her for a
little while longer. I think the other two girls were talking about me
and my reaction to having a baby in the house. I'm not really sure what
they said because I was so mesmerized by little Emily.
Caitlin said she needed to get home. Her husband would be coming home
and she wanted to get there before him or else he'd be asking lots of
questions about where she had been. I felt so bad for Caitlin having a
husband like that. But I was so happy for her that she had such a
perfect little girl.
As Caitlin prepared to go, she gave me a big hug. "I'm sorry, Jennifer.
I was so stunned when I came in I never even said hello to you
properly. I'm so happy you invited me up and let me into this part of
your life."
"Me too, Caiti," I said, feeling my eyes getting damp. "Will you come
back up soon? I'd really like to spend more time with you and Emily."
"Sure, that would be great," Caitlin answered. I saw that her eyes were
damp too.
Sarah hugged Caitlin good-bye as well and carried her bag out to her
car. I waved farewell from the front door.
When Sarah came back in I gave her a big hug also. "Thank you for
encouraging me to do that. It made me feel so good to have Caitlin
here."
"And you seemed to hit it off with little Emily too," Sarah replied.
"Isn't she the cutest thing ever!"
"She is," Sarah agreed. She helped me wash up the dishes and put away
the leftovers.
End of Part 7
I hope you are continuing to enjoy my story. Jennifer's journey will
continue if people are interested in hearing more.
Please leave a note in the Reviews section. Your comments are very
important to me.
Jo
- 13.09.2020
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