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Not What You Expected - 1 free porn video
Not What You Expected
By Joannebarbarella
Sometimes there is a law of (un)intended consequences.
I was sitting at the make-up table in the bedroom, applying a last coat
of lip-gloss, when I caught a glimpse of movement beyond the glare of
the lights surrounding the mirror. I swiveled the chair and rose to my
feet in one movement, facing the door.
My wife was standing in the doorway.
I felt the blood drain from my face and the lipstick fell from my
suddenly nerveless fingers.
"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded.
I tried to speak, but only managed a strangled gargle as I struggled for
breath, and then I did what many other girls would have done under such
circumstances. I fainted.
..............
Bloody airlines! Why do you give them your contact numbers if they don't
call and tell you the flight will be delayed? An hour's trip to the
airport, to find out there are "Mechanical Problems" and the plane will
be seven hours late, leaving a choice between waiting there or an hour's
drive home. So here I am, back where I started, over two-and-a-half
hours later and not in the best of moods, but it beats waiting at the
airport.
I was on my way to spend a week or so with my mum and sister in Sydney.
My husband and I had just finished our most recent job and I thought I'd
earned a short break while he tidied up the loose ends. We renovate and
redecorate apartments for a living, so we have a flexible schedule once
we have completed an assignment. To be truthful, it's as much a hobby as
anything. Neither of us actually needs the money, although money is
always nice.
I saw his car was still in the garage when I pulled in. Maybe I could
surprise him and we could have an interlude back in bed to while away
the hours until I went to the plane again. A salacious grin crossed my
face. Our sex-life is pretty good.
I drove into the garage and parked, closing the car-door quietly and
slipping in through the connecting door to the laundry. A quick look
into the kitchen, lounge, dining-room and office established that he
wasn't downstairs.
I went into the office, closed the door and rang my mum to let her know
I would be late. I didn't want her worrying or ringing up when we were
otherwise engaged. There is nothing more ardour-quenching than a phone-
call when you are close to climax. Talking to my mum on the phone is
always a marathon event. She can talk underwater.
With that out of the way I slipped off my shoes and quietly went
upstairs. The first place I looked was our bedroom. It was fitted out
with an ensuite bathroom, walk-in wardrobes and a dressing area as well
as a king-size bed. I thought he might be taking a shower or getting
dressed.
I stopped in the doorway and saw a strange woman sitting at my make-up
table putting on her face. She became aware of me and spun around,
rising to her feet at the same time. There was a look of absolute terror
on her face. I suddenly realized she was my husband!
I stepped forward and he swooned into my arms. I caught him and half-
dragged him over to the bed.
.................
I must have been out of it for several minutes. When I woke up she was
leaning over me.
"You have some explaining to do," she said.
Answer a question with a question when you don't know what to say next.
"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be on your way to Sydney."
"Obviously I'm not and I can see you didn't expect me home. Now, enough!
Explain."
When you're caught red-handed, or in my case, red-lipped, you have
little choice but to throw yourself on the mercy of the court. I sighed,
heart fluttering, and prepared for my life to drastically change for the
worse.
"What do you know about transsexuals?" I asked her. Another question.
"Quite a lot actually. No intelligent person can not have seen some of
the shows on TV or have read about it in magazines or papers. I know
they're not gay. In fact, I'm pretty sure I know you're not gay. Either
that or you're a bloody good actor in bed, and I can't believe that.
Anyway, keep going."
"Well, that's what I am. I'm a transsexual. I'm a girl in a man's body."
She just looked at me for several seconds, her face expressionless. I
couldn't tell what she was thinking.
"How long have you known? How long have you been doing this?" waving her
hand up and down my body, indicating the unmistakably female attire that
I was wearing.
"I first remember feeling wrong when I was about ten and I started
dressing in my mother's clothes when I was eleven. After that the
feelings just got stronger and stronger. Every opportunity I got I
dressed as a girl and I knew that was the way I was meant to be."
"Yes. I can tell it's not your first time. You look very nice, and that
means practice. Of course I could make you look much better. Those
eyebrows for a start! So what were you going to do today?"
"Just go to the city and walk around and feel good." I smiled weakly.
"Normally dressing like this relaxes me, although I don't feel relaxed
right now."
"What about the rest of the time I was going to be away?"
"More of the same. I just planned to enjoy being who I really am."
"I don't get it. If you want to be a girl, why did you marry me?"
"Because I love you."
"Good answer, but it doesn't tell me what I want to know. Why didn't you
go looking for a man?"
"It seems sexuality has little to do with gender. I've never been
remotely attracted to men. You are everything I always wanted in a girl.
You're intelligent, talented, elegant, funny and beautiful. I adored you
from the first moment I met you and you seemed to return my love, and I
think we're great in bed, too."
She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. "You put that very
nicely, but I don't want to spoil your make-up. Get up and we'll go down
and have a cup of coffee and continue this conversation."
We went down to the kitchen, with her walking behind me. I could feel
her eyes checking me out. I couldn't help but put a little extra sway in
my walk and try to be at my most graceful and poised descending the
stairs in my heels, feeling the nylons on my legs and my skirt swishing
around my legs. As usual, I tried to imagine I was her, Catherine,
because, besides loving her I admired everything about her.
Since this was probably my swan-song I wanted to go out as proudly as
possible. They say confession is good for the soul and now I had
confessed I felt relieved after a fashion, even though it was just the
calm before the storm, and I was sick to my stomach at the thought of
our marriage ending.
"You make the coffee. You do it better than me," she ordered, and sat
down on one of the stools in the breakfast nook, watching me.
.................
When I had laid him on the bed, I stood back and looked at him. When the
initial shock had abated I examined (her?) properly. I could see my
husband in there, but only with difficulty. I had great trouble thinking
of the figure on the bed as (him?). She actually looked very pretty. She
had chosen an obviously expensive honey-blonde chin-length wig, which
framed her face nicely. Hoop earrings peeped out from beneath it. They
must be clip-ons I thought. Her eyebrows needed a fair bit of work. Of
course, if she had shaped them properly it would have been a dead give-
away.
She had done a nice job on her eyes; well blended shades of shadow; nice
long eyelashes with black mascara and eye-liner to match, tastefully
done. She had used a bit too much foundation and powder, in reaction to
her maleness I suppose; she had finished off with a coral-pink lipstick
coated with a clear gloss, giving her a lovely shiny finish, perhaps a
little bright for daytime, but nothing an attractive girl couldn't get
away with.
She was wearing a plain white top with some lace trimming, short-sleeved
with a modest vee-neck. I could see the suggestion of her bra through
the silky material, not too daring, but visible all the same. I squeezed
one of her breasts and it felt real. Breast forms then, so definitely
not her first time out.
Her skirt was black, flared from the waist to her knees, and with a
frilly hem which I reckoned would swish nicely when she walked. I would
have to borrow it at an appropriate time. Her nylons were black but
sheer. I wondered why I hadn't noticed her shaved legs before, or maybe
she did them this morning; and all finished off with a pair of classic
black pumps with three-inch heels.
All-in-all a conservative outfit which wouldn't attract too much
attention, but looked casually elegant. If I hadn't known who she was I
wouldn't have given her a second glance in the street or in the Ladies,
except for a quick once-over of admiration. It was a nicely chosen
outfit, plain but feminine.
I sat and thought about all this while he was still unconscious. How was
I going to handle it? I needed to know his motivations. I didn't think
he was gay. Our sex-life was too good for that. He didn't look like a
drag-queen. There was nothing outrageous about him. The whole effect was
understated; he was trying to pass, not stand out in a crowd, or make an
impression.
So what did it all mean? What was this going to do to our marriage? We
had been married for a little over a year, and it had been a very good
year. We were a bit of an unusual match. I was twenty-nine and he was
twenty-four. We both came from well-off families. I had met him at an
exhibition on renovation and redecoration techniques. He had come across
as smart and talented without that sometimes "gay" attitude you
encounter in the trade. He had made me laugh with some of his
observations and we had hit it off immediately.
His expertise was in remodeling things like kitchens and bathrooms,
while I specialized in colours and fabrics and upholstery. We seemed to
make a perfect team. It was only a few months before we got engaged and
a few more before we wed. My mum was a bit anti because he was younger
than me and his was anti because I was older, but we both put an effort
into winning them over, and it seemed to work.
And here I was sitting on the bed and seeing my husband dressed very
nicely as a woman. He started to come around and I determined to be as
cool, calm and collected as I could possibly be.
................
I moved around the kitchen self-consciously while I made the coffee. I
really tried to be as feminine as possible. I don't know why, but it
seemed to be really important to me. I wanted her to see me as I felt, a
girl, not a man in a dress, even if it turned out to be for the first
and last time. When it had perked I poured a cup for each of us and
carried it over and then brought sugar and milk on a separate tray with
tongs and spoons, doing it properly.
I sat on another of the stools, demurely pulling my skirt beneath me
when I sat. I smiled at her nervously.
"One lump or two?" picking up the tongs.
"Two as usual, of course, Tom. You know that. It doesn't feel right
calling you Tom when you're dressed like this. Do you have a girl's
name?"
I blushed madly. All my secrets were going to come out today.
"I call myself Catherine."
"Well, I suppose I should feel flattered, but we can't have two
Catherines around here. I'm going to call you ......let me
see.....Tammy?.....No, doesn't feel right.....Tanya.....for now, at
least until we sort this out."
I put sugar and milk in my coffee, stirred it, but I couldn't pick the
cup up. My hands were shaking so much I would have spilled it. Funny. I
had carried the cups over to the counter all right. I suppose I could
feel crunch-time coming.
"OK, tell me again why you didn't tell me all this before we got
married."
"Oh, Cathy, you can't imagine the shame and guilt that goes with this.
I've hidden it for years, all through school and afterwards. I moved
into my own flat as soon as I could and dressed after work and at
weekends, but I dared not let anybody know. I'm a real coward.
"Then, when I met you, I fell madly in love with you and the more I got
to know you I knew I had to spend the rest of my life with you. I just
couldn't take the risk of you rejecting me, and I promised myself I
would stop doing all this and be a proper man for you. I just knew you
would hate me if you found out about this."
"But you couldn't resist?"
I shook my head miserably. "No, I couldn't. I have to do it."
"What if I asked you to promise never to dress as a woman again?"
"Darling, look at me now. How could I make a promise like that in all
honesty? Would you believe me if I said I wouldn't?" The tears ran down
my face as I saw our marriage ending.
She began to laugh. She roared with laughter, while I gaped at her in
amazement, sitting there stunned. It took a couple of minutes for her to
stop and wipe her eyes.
..............
I couldn't help myself. The incongruity and serendipity of the
situation!
...............
"Now we both look like pandas," she said. "Before we do anything else,
let's both fix our faces."
She grabbed my arm and led us both into the downstairs bathroom, where
she repaired my make-up before she did her own. She gave my hair a quick
brush and inspected the lie of my top, settling the sleeves a little.
"There, now we look respectable, so let's go and sit down. You may need
to."
My stomach lurched, expecting the worst.
We went into the lounge and took an armchair each. I was beginning to
get used to being dressed as a woman in front of her.
"I think it's time for a little honesty in this marriage. There are
things I haven't told you either. When I met you I was just coming out
of a lesbian relationship. I guess I'm bi. I loved you from the moment I
met you, but it wasn't because you were big and macho. You weren't. You
said you loved me because I was talented, elegant, funny and beautiful.
Well, I didn't think of you as beautiful or elegant, but clever,
talented, funny, caring, sweet, yes. And now I'm looking at someone who
is elegant and beautiful too."
I stared at her. I had trouble believing what I heard.
"I sometimes have wet dreams about finding a woman with a cock. Tell me,
what do you think about when we make love?"
"I imagine that I'm a beautiful woman making love to a beautiful woman."
"If you had told me about yourself before we got married I would have
rushed you off your feet to the altar before you got away. Tell me, have
you tried on my wedding dress? I know you really loved it."
"No, but I really wanted to. I just wasn't game."
"Well, I'm going to get you your own, and we'll get pictures taken with
both of us in wedding gowns."
I started crying again.
"Tanya, you're hopeless. How many times am I going to have to repair
your make-up?"
I shook my head. I couldn't speak. She got up from her chair and came
over and hugged me.
"Mind you, there are going to be a few changes. Do you promise to obey
me in all things?"
"Yes. I do."
"Right. One. You are never to dress in male clothing again. Do you
agree?"
"Oh, yes."
"Two. You know how I hate housework. You're going to have to be my maid,
OK?"
We kissed deeply, bugger the make-up.
"Tell me. How many pairs of shoes do you have?"
"Just two. These and a pair of white sandals."
She looked horrified.
"How can you say you're a girl when you only have two pairs of shoes?
God, you're going to need a lot of work."
I giggled helplessly.
...............
I said we were in the redecoration and renovation business. It looked
like I'd just got my biggest project.
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