Storyteller
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My Story free porn video
My Story
Unlike many other men who desire to dress or be dressed in feminine
clothes (and there are far more than most people imagine), my mother's
underwear had never held any real fascination for me and I had never
fantasised about wearing lingerie or female accessories. In my case it
had started with Helen, a former girlfriend, who had told me that she had
always been turned on by the idea and had decided for some reason, that I
would make an ideal model to practice on. We were a bit pissed at the
time and I somehow allowed her to dress me in items of her lingerie. -
which had fitted me rather well, as it turned out.
That first drunken experience however, had been so mind-blowing for me
sexually, and the items of clothing she had chosen for me had fitted me
so well, that we had subsequently repeated the experience several times;
and this had first provoked my private cross-dressing sexual experiments,
which had gradually became more frequent and involved. I began to imagine
myself clad not just in garter belt, stockings, bra and panties; but in
dresses, skirts, tops and shoes.
But after I met my wife Christine, my fantasies began to grow wings. Once
we were married, whenever the opportunity arose I would try on her
personal lingerie, in secret of course while she was out; and I found
that this gave me a particularly intense sexual thrill - especially the
more feminine things made of silk or satin and lace, which I loved the
feel of against my bare skin. Chrissie had a pair of satin French
Knickers for example, edged with lace and clingy around the tops of my
thighs, which when I wore them and masturbated, gave me the most
memorable orgasms.
All of which explains how my wife, came to discover my secret..
She had been visiting an important client in the city - Chrissie is a
Marketing Executive and by then had been my beloved wife for several
years; and I had decided to use the opportunity of her being late back,
to spend the evening dressed. I was wearing a hairpiece, tight-fitting
corselet, garter belt and stockings and heels; together with a pair of
beautiful, satin and lace French Knickers and matching bra, when I
decided to visit the fridge and fix myself a drink. I never heard
Chrissie's car pull into the drive or the porch door open and froze in
horror when someone entered the kitchen from behind me. There was a
moment's silence and then a voice rang out.
"You fucking bitch! If you think you can have an affair with my husband
and get away with it, you've another think coming! I'm going to bloody-
well kill you!" she shouted. Chrissie can be quite loud when she gets
mad.
The blood rushed to my face and my heart was pounding. I was caught in
flagrante and would have to face the music. I turned round with a beer in
my hand and tried to remain calm and altogether.
"I'm not having an affair with your husband," I said, quietly.
Chrissie let out a sort of a stifled gasp, staggered slightly and grasped
hold of the edge of the kitchen table. "Michael? Is that you? Oh, my
God..."
What could I do? I just stood there, incapable of speech while she stared
at me. Her words seemed to hang in the air between us in the silence that
followed. Then suddenly, she began to cry and I hurried to her to comfort
her. "Chrissie... don't... please..." I murmured.
But she shrugged me off and as she slowly regained her composure, said
thickly, "How long has this been going on?"
There was nothing else for it. Somehow, I had always known this had to
come one day. "A few years," I confessed. I was crimson, but a sense of
relief was already flooding through me.
"A few years!"
"Yes."
"Are you gay?"
"No!" I protested.
But there was another even darker secret which I had tried very hard to
suppress: I had never had a bi-sexual experience in my life, but as my
fantasies increased in frequency and scope, almost inevitably suppose, I
became curious to know what it would be like to meet other men dressed in
feminine clothes. And from there, it was only a small step away from
imagining myself being made love to as a woman. I could tell she didn't
believe me.
"You don't believe me, do you?" I replied, weakly.
Another long silence followed. Then she said: "What... what else do you
wear?"
I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly conscious that I was stood in front of
her wearing stockings and suspender belt, bra and panties. I felt sick to
my stomach. Was this going to be the end of my marriage? Feeling foolish
now, I bent to unfasten my suspenders.
She took a step forward. "No... don't take them off! Please... I just
need to sit down for a moment. Do you mind?"
I stopped.
"I asked you a question. Would you wear other things if... you know, if
you could?"
I looked at her, not quite knowing what to say. "I don't know," I said.
"I just like the feel of them." I blushed again.
She seemed to soften a little. "Because if it's something you feel you
must do, then you should do it," she said. She was looking at me
intently.
I turned away.
"Michael... you know I love you, don't you?"
"Yes..."
"Did you hear what I said? If this is what... turns you on..." She
hesitated, waiting for my reply but I couldn't answer her at first. I was
still a little traumatised at my long-kept secret having been discovered
after all this time.
"Ddoes it turn you on?" she repeated.
"Yes!" I replied, at last.
"Do you... want to be a woman?"
"No, of course not!" I probably answered her question a little too
hastily, with hindsight.
"You do realise we have to talk about this, Michael... I mean... what the
hell am I supposed to think?"
I realised I had no other option except to be totally honest, for better
or for worse. So I took the plunge, but experienced difficulty in finding
the words. "I thought maybe... I mean, please believe me... I was going
to tell you, but --"
"You were going to tell me? It's a bit late now, don't you think!"
"I suppose so. But... well, for God's sake, Chrissie! Maybe... maybe we
could make a game of it... You know... maybe we could both dress up
sometimes!"
She regarded me curiously. "A game? How often do you do it?" she asked.
"I suppose that depends on... you know... on the opportunity. Once a week
I suppose, sometimes more."
"Does it give you an orgasm?"
I decided she was fully over her initial shock by now. She sounded like
it, anyway. So she may as well know, I decided. "I usually masturbate
while I'm dressed, sometimes before, sometimes afterwards," I replied.
She laughed drily. "You could at least wear your bloody own lingerie!"
"I do mostly!" I answered, a little indignantly.
Aren't you going to open that beer?" she said. "It must be getting warm
by now! And I think I need one as well. But in my case, I'll have a large
gin and tonic."
I hurried to comply with her suggestion. To my mind, the worst was over
and I was already thinking of the long-term effects of my exposure. What
would she do? How would she behave towards me from now on? I couldn't
imagine giving up indulging in my sexual fantasies.
"I need to get changed..." I said as I poured.
"No! I don't want you to change!" She said. "Have you ever been out
dressed like that?"
"Like what? Like this, you mean!"
"No! I don't mean as you are right now, silly! I meant wearing those kind
of things underneath your clothes?"
"Very occasionally," I said, handing her the gin and tonic and she took a
large pull.
I was all too aware as I gave it to her that she invariably got pissed
very easily on gin.
"I think you should. You can if you want to," she said.
I looked at her, taken completely by surprise. She sounded serious.
"But like I said... you should have your own clothes." she added.
"My own clothes..." I repeated, stupidly.
"Yes! Your own clothes! You know, underwear and things. We should go
shopping."
"Chrissie --" I began.
"No buts! I would like you to buy everything you need," she said. "What
you've got on can't fit you properly, even if we are about the same size.
But I can't imagine you going shopping in River Island or Next on your
own! So I'm going to have to do it for you - or come with you!"
"Chrissie... what are you trying to say?" I had also sat down by this
time, sporting the beginnings of an erection at the subject of our
conversation and the realisation that Chrissie seemed not to have been
fazed by any of what had happened.
She suddenly stood up and pulled me to my feet. It was as if she had
reached some sort of a decision. "Come on!" she said. "Let's go
upstairs!"
Still protesting and not quite knowing what she had in mind, I allowed
her to pull me towards the stairs. He pushed me forwards and followed me
up, still encouraging me from behind; and I was conscious of the view she
must have had of my pantie-clad bottom.
When we got inside the bedroom she smiled at me. "I want to help you
finish dressing properly," she said. "I'd like you to try one of my
skirts on."
Realising at last where this was heading - and quite liking the idea - I
finally plucked up the courage to tell her the whole truth. "I do... have
a few things I keep hidden..." I admitted.
She looked at me in astonishment. "Where, for God's sake?"
I opened my wardrobe, reached up for a small suitcase shoved right at the
back of the top shelf, and pulled it down. I opened it and took out a
navy-blue, pleated mini-skirt.
She immediately took it from me, holding it up to look at it properly.
Then she unzipped her own calf-length skirt so she was left standing in
her black tights. She stepped into mine and tugged it the right way round
her waist, did up the small button and zip and smoothed it down before
turning to admire herself in the long mirror on the back of her wardrobe.
"I haven't worn anything this short since I was at school," she
commented. "This isn't part of some kind of St. Trinian's outfit, is it?"
I shook my head. "No... I just liked it and when I bought it, pretended I
was getting it for my daughter... I have a blouse as well... and..."
"Go on!"
"And a pair of cotton school knickers..."
"My God!"
I blushed to my roots again.
"Would you like to put them on for me now?"
"Chrissie, I'm not sure if... I ---"
"Well, would you or wouldn't you?" she interrupted, gently.
"I'm not sure if you would like me in them..."
Strangely enough, even though by now I was by this time very horny - I
was also concerned and slightly intimidated - by the fact that there was
now no going back for either of us: I would never be able to persuade her
now that nothing needed to change as far as our sex life was concerned.
And I guess I was afraid that Chrissie would never be able to make love
with me again, without imagining me cross-dressed. I sat down resignedly
on the bed, unfastened my suspenders and began easing the stockings down
my legs.
What my wife said next however, almost blew my mind.
Chapter Two
David has been caught by his wife of a few years, "in flagrante delicto"
part-dressed in her clothes when she returns from work unexpectedly. Once
the shock of her discovery has worn off however, she appears to be quite
philosophical about his passion for cross- dressing; and is about to help
him go much further and acquire a more feminine persona. Both realise
that their relationship as a couple, and their sex life, can never to be
the same again.
"I'm going to choose some clothes for you to try on," she informed me.
She took hold of my hand and led me, still almost naked, through into the
bathroom. "Right," she said, "strip the rest of these things off." Then
turning away from me, she began to fill the bath. "I'm going to give you
a complete make-over before we dress you, so you need to have a very
close, wet shave. You can use your own razor, you're finished with
borrowing my things!"
To be continued....+
India
- 11.09.2021
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