Nandita To Nandini
- 3 years ago
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Max And Brandi free porn video
Max and Brandi
My husband was a crossdresser. He was candid with me about it early in
our relationship. While I didn't understand his urges to dress up as a
woman, he was discrete, didn't ask me to participate, and I loved him.
So, I tolerated it even though I didn't like it.
We had been married a few years when we came into a significant amount of
money. It was enough that we no longer had to work and had the luxury of
pursuing our dreams. Well, Brad's dream was to go to a sort of retreat
or finishing school for men like him to learn to be women. I didn't like
it, and we fought a lot, but in the end I recognized how important it was
to him, and I acquiesced.
Given that he was going away for three months, his single, small duffle
bag didn't seem adequate, but as he explained, he wouldn't be needing any
men's clothing. We hugged, and I wiped away a tear.
"Don't forget that you're my husband," I said.
"Of course not, baby," he reassured me.
For the first few days I was sad and lonely. The pictures he emailed to
me showed that the place he went was good. Instead of seeing my husband,
or even a guy in a dress, I saw a very attractive, stylish woman.
Then I got angry. Even though I knew it wasn't the case, I felt like I
was not enough of a woman for him. I was angry that he didn't want to be
my husband. I was worried that he'd want to be a woman completely or
that he'd leave me for a man.
One night, having drunk too much wine and upset about the provocative,
glamour shot pictures he'd sent me of him in lingerie, a strange idea
came to me. If he didn't want to be the man in our relationship, I'd be.
I'd show him. When he got home he'd find me acting like a man, and maybe
he'd stop this foolishness. I went to our bedroom and stripped off my
clothes. I took off my jewelry and makeup. I removed my fingernail
polish and trimmed my nails down short. I went to his dresser and
slipped on a wife beater tshirt and a pair of his boxers. On a whim, I
went to the bathroom and got his shaving cream and razor. I lathered my
face and shaved.
A strange thing happened then. I kind of liked it. I liked the idea of
being the one in charge; of being the aggressor. It was a strange turn
on to think of taking the masculinity he was working to give up. I left
my glass of wine in the bedroom and got a beer from the refrigerator. I
went back to the computer and looked at his pictures again. Seeing him
in his satin negligee, stockings and heels, and imagining being the
sexual aggressor, excited me. I sipped my beer with one hand and slipped
the other inside my boxers. Just the idea of saying "my boxers" turned
me on. The beer caused me to let out a big belch that I didn't try to
quiet.
I awoke the next morning with a hangover. However, still dressed in my
wife beater and boxers, I had to go back to bed to masturbate. I had a
vibrator, but the idea of anything penetrating me seemed suddenly
repulsive. Instead I imagined I was stroking my cock and pictured my
wife in her lingerie.
I went to the gym for my regular workout. Instead of doing my normal
cardio, I went to the weights. I had never been a dainty woman and had
always been very athletic. I lifted hard; loving the burn in my muscles.
A couple of the bodybuilders I saw often commented on my intensity.
"Thanks, I'm trying to gain some mass," I said. They subtly mentioned
that the fastest way to build muscle mass was with steroids, and that
flipped another switch in my head. After a quick and quiet transaction,
I had a syringe and several vials of chemicals. They warned me to limit
the injections to once every few weeks or I'd begin to develop masculine
traits. I laughed inside.
My route from the gym to home took me past a sex shop. I had never
really paid much attention to it, but it was my next stop that day. I
perused the selection of strap on dildos. I was so aroused that I felt
like I was dripping down my leg. I finally selected a thick, very
realistic looking, eight inch one that even had hairy balls attached. I
laughed to myself that I was going to be much bigger than my husband was.
I could barely get home fast enough, and my white BVD's under my gym
shorts were soaked when I finally got into the bathroom. I stripped down
and attached my cock. Watching myself in the mirror, I stroked my cock.
I was entranced and thrilled by the feeling of power. Still jacking
myself off, I shoved a needle in my ass.
My new equipment forced me to alter the way I walked and how I sat. Just
looking down at the bulge in my shorts turned me on. I got a beer and
flopped down in front of the computer with my legs spread wide so my
balls were comfortable. I had an email from Brandi, as she had taken to
calling herself, telling me about the "fabulous" shopping trip she had.
She signed it "kisses". It didn't register to me that I was thinking of
Brad as "her".
The steroids worked quickly. I began gaining muscle weight immediately.
Even more, I loved how they affected me mentally. I felt strong and
tough and aggressive. Sticking a needle in my ass almost daily, it
wasn't long before I noticed my voice deepening. My daily shave was
hardening the soft hair on my face, and I noticed it thickening. I
actually needed to shave every few days. The hair on my armpits and legs
was growing in. Having always been a small A cup, the heavy lifting and
'roids made my breasts all but disappear.
Brandi had been gone about a month when she called. Her voice was a sexy
purr when she said, "Hello darling."
"Hey babe," I replied.
"Are you sick? Your voice sounds different,"
"Uh, just woke up."
Hesitantly, she explained to me that there was an available add on
service where she was, and she could get breast implants. She said she
knew it was a big step but they were removable, and she'd love to try it.
I was so turned on by the thought of her having a big rack that I started
jacking off while I was talking to her. I told her that it was her time
to explore and discover and encouraged her to go for it. She giggled
with glee and promised to send me pictures.
The effects of my efforts to be masculine were reinforced the next day.
I passed a woman on the street and turned to watch her. I wasn't
interested in her shoes or bag or hair color. I wanted to look at her
ass. I stopped at the store on the way home to pick up some beer and
also grabbed a Playboy. Waiting in line at the checkout counter, I saw
the racks of chewing tobacco. Thinking that was something inherently
manly, I bought a can of Skoal.
I almost puked the first time I tried it. Once I got to where I could
keep it in a ball inside my lip, I loved spitting out the window. Doing
so, I realized my cute little VW Beetle was completely inappropriate. It
took only a short while to trade it in for a truck with huge tires.
I had already cut my hair very short. After a few beers that night, with
a big dip in my cheek, I got out my razor and shaved my head. I lay in
bed with my cock sticking up, looking at the pictures of naked women in
the magazine. I knew that I didn't want to make love to them. I didn't
want to be a lesbian. I wanted to be a man and fuck them.
As promised, after she healed, Brandi sent me provocative pictures of her
with her new assets. She also sent me a video of a girl's night out.
Dressed in a tiny dress and sky high heels, she and her girlfriends had
fun at a nightclub. There was one sequence of her slow dancing with a
guy. Her head was on his chest, and his hands were on her ass. I felt a
twinge of jealousy; not from my original fear that she would like men,
but that I wanted to be that man. I sized him up and thought I could
kick his pussy ass.
It came time for Brandi to be coming home. She sent me an email saying
she had scheduled to have her implants removed and that she would be back
as my husband Brad. I replied that I'd like to see her in her full
feminine glory and not to do so. I wanted to meet Brandi. She could
barely contain her pleasure at that. I told her I'd meet her at a local
bar and that I had a surprise for her.
On the night I was to meet her, I stepped out of the shower. I
considered shaving but decided I liked the stubble on my face. I pulled
on my boxers and rearranged my cock and balls for comfort. I splashed on
some cologne. I pulled a white tank top on that would show off my
bulging biceps and the new barbwire tattoo that wrapped around my arm. I
slipped on some black slacks and my leather jacket.
I walked into the bar and saw her immediately. She had learned her
lessons well. Sitting on a stool, her skirt had ridden up to show the
lace tops of her shiny stockings. Her breasts strained against her satin
blouse. I watched her for a while. She played with strands of her long
blonde hair; twirling a French manicured nail through her tresses. She
pulled a mirror out of her purse and touched up her pouty lips. I
considered taking her home right then to fuck her, but I wanted to enjoy
this. I walked up behind her.
"Did it hurt?" I asked.
"Excuse me?" she said, turning toward me.
"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" She giggled a little, glanced
shyly up at me, and then recognition spread across her face.
"Mandy?" She asked.
"I'm Max. May I buy you a drink?" I sat down on the stool next to her
and felt the jealous glances of all the other guys in the bar.
"I'm Brandi, and yes you may," she played along. I ordered her a
cosmopolitan and myself a scotch on the rocks.
"I can't help but think we've met before," she said.
"Nah. I'd remember meeting a beautiful woman like you." We bantered
back and forth for a while like any man and woman flirting with each
other. At one point she touched my bicep and asked if I worked out. I
flexed a little, and while pleased, thought that she had learned well how
to appeal to a man's ego.
After a few drinks we were leaning close to each other. She occasionally
brushed a nail against me, and I had rested my rough hand on her silky
leg.
"Let's get out of here," I said.
"Okay," she said demurely. I tossed a few bills on the bar, and we
walked out to my truck. It was too high for her to get in so I lifted
her up into the seat. I took the opportunity to put one hand on her
silky stocking and the other behind her head. I pulled her to me and
kissed her deeply; my tongue pushing into her willing mouth. She kissed
like a woman; soft and receptive.
I climbed into the truck and ordered her to slide over next to me. She
obediently complied, and I rubbed my hand up and down her leg. As I
drove, I pulled her skirt back to reveal her garters and her black satin
panties. She uncrossed her legs and leaned her head against my shoulder.
Her hand delicately rested on my leg and drifted up until it touched my
cock. She let out a quiet gasp of surprise but kept her hand on it.
"Good girl," I said. I pulled out my can of Skoal and put in a big dip.
"That's disgusting," she said.
"Whatever," I said dismissively. I was a man, and I didn't care about
the opinion of a woman. I wanted one thing from her at that moment, and
it wasn't conversation. Driving in my truck, with her soft body rested
against mine and her hand on my cock, I spit out the window and wondered
why she would ever give up being a man.
When we walked inside, I grabbed her arm and turned her to me. I pressed
her against the wall and felt the swell of her breasts against my chest.
My hands slid up and down her satin covered body as we kissed. She
hesitantly sucked on my tongue. I began to unbutton her blouse with one
hand while the other reached under her skirt.
"I don't know if I'm ready for this, darling," she said. I took her hand
and moved it to my cock.
"You know you want it baby. Give Daddy some sugar." I lifted her up in
my arms. She squealed as I carried her to the bedroom.
Once inside, I set her down in front of the full length mirror. The
reflection showed a beautiful woman and a man holding her in his muscular
arms. I pulled at her blouse and popped the buttons off. She let out a
gasp. I cupped her breasts in her black, satin bra, and she moaned. I
nibbled on her neck and ears. All the while, both of us stared at the
mirror.
"Make love to me," she said.
"I want to fuck you," I whispered in her ear. I pulled down her skirt,
and she stood before me in her matching bra, panties and garter belt.
Her smooth legs, encased in silky stockings, extended forever to her
black pumps.
"Do you know how fucking sexy you are?" I asked as I lifted her and put
her on the bed. She spread her legs and said, "show me".
I fucked her that night. She awoke me the next morning with her mouth on
my cock. A few weeks later we married again. I wore the tuxedo, and she
walked down the aisle in a beautiful white gown.
Aspen
- 31.08.2021
- 16
- 0
