Lesson Learned free porn video

Lesson Learned! I learned my lesson early as a young man to be honest with myself and any potential romantic partners about my inner sense of femininity. I learned it the hard way. The only girl I ever got really serious about, to the point of borrowing money to buy a three hundred dollar engagement ring, I wasn't honest with. Her name was Cynthia. I should have told the truth to her, and maybe things wouldn't have happened the way they did. Or maybe it would have never begun. We found an apartment together and I was very pleased with this. I thought it signaled a new phase of adulthood and manhood. I really was looking forward to getting married. I thought maybe it would change me. I thought I would be able to suppress my feelings, what I thought of as my inner femaleness, and become more masculine, and at least on the surface it seemed to work. I was very macho, took martial arts classes, and over indulged in liquor in a manly fashion. The only problem was that I couldn't suppress my desire to be feminine. It was simply innate. I over compensated, becoming more "butch". Psyhrinks sometimes refer to this as a "reaction formation". An individual forms a false face in order to hide the dreaded and shameful femininity or homosexuality from self and others. No one ever really seems to be fooled, however. Then I discovered that Cynthia's clothing fit me. I didn't intend to wear them, but there they were. I couldn't stay away from them. Her clothes were beautiful, as she was. Apparently she found out because she could tell I had been wearing her clothing, a blonde wig was left slightly askew on the wig stand, and her cosmetics were not exactly as she left them. After all the years I had been hiding my dressing I thought I was too careful to be caught. I was mistaken. Cynthia, confirming what I already knew, was way smarter than I was, and set in motion a plan to not only bring everything out in the open, expose me to our friends, and express her contempt for me. Almost everything she did was right before my eyes, but I was too much in love with her to see what was really happening. She got me very high on wine one night, and began to make advances, which actually was not unusual. She was always quite aggressive sexually with me, which suited me to a T. I think she sensed that I had a submissive streak, and she already knew that strong, sharp tongued women attracted me. She was certainly that! While she was fondling me and stroking me, and roughly kissing me, I began to melt with passion, not overpower her with male ardour as one might have expected. That night she took off her panties and rubbed them across my lips and face, and then she mounted my face, and rode me like an object until she was satisfied. I couldn't, and didn't want to stop her. This happened on many more evenings. She began to tantalize me by leaving her underwear on the bed at the end of the day, and her other lingerie everywhere that she could toss it, casually telling me to put it away for her. She inveigled me into doing her laundry, as she was too busy to do it, and then showed me how to wash and rinse her panty hose, and dry it on the shower rod. I was soon washing her underwear by hand with Woolite in the sink, to my inward thrill. I even began to iron her clothing for her so she would look nice at work. I enjoyed all of it, indulging my submissive sissy side, in secret I thought. However, Cynthia began to be more persistent in her subtle dominance of me, once kissing me full on the lips after she had freshly applied lipstick, and making me look as though I put lipstick on myself. Only after I got some strange looks from her girlfriend Maxine, did I look in the mirror and see what had happened. I hastily wiped it off and pretended that nothing was amiss. We began to play little bondage games, in which I would tie her hands lightly behind her back and spank her fanny, not too hard because it appalled me to spank a woman, even in play. She let me know that this wasn't satisfying to her, and then I was the one tied and spanked. Hard! Soon I was the only one being tied and spanked, and then made to pleasure her with my mouth. Not that I minded. All my submissive fantasies seemed to be coming true. Then she started "forcing" me into her panties, and then other items of her clothing. I had no idea where these ideas were coming from, but I felt no shame in what we were doing, because I felt that it was in accord with my inner self. I thought that she was being perceptive, and just trying to make me happy. One day she dressed me to the nines in a long feminine sundress from Gunny Sax, which was the epitome of girlish dresses, helped me into her blond wig, and supervised my makeup, only doing the eyeliner and eye shadow herself. She talked me into going to a drive in movie with her by saying we would have great fun when we got home. I finally agreed, and we got into Cynthia's car. We made it to the drive-in with no stares, or comments, other than an "Enjoy the movie ladies!" from the attendant. What I didn't know, however, was that her girlfriend Maxine, and Maxine's boyfriend Steve were in a nearby car, clued in by Cynthia of course. They observed us with great amusement, of course, and Maxine, unnoticed by me, followed us into the women's restroom when we absolutely had to use it. When I left the stall, to my horror, Maxine was standing there looking at me, but she only smirked and began to touch up her makeup at the mirror. Then, sashaying to the door, she turned to me and said, "See you later sweetie!", and left. Nearly in tears and shaking I grabbed Cynthia's hand and rushed back to the car, begging her to leave, now! Laughing in my face she refused, and as she had the keys, we stayed for the rest of the movie, with me trembling in humiliation. Maxine and her boyfriend Steve walked by the car once on the way to the concession stand, and Maxine made a little kissy mouth toward me with a wave of her fingers. Steve just openly laughed at me. I was almost in tears. When we got back home I unloaded on her, hysterically shrieking that my life was ruined, that all our friends would know, and that it was all her fault. "Stuff it, you little pansy! Our friends already know, because I've been telling them about you for weeks now," she said. "What is more, I've known about you dressing in my clothing since you moved in with me, because you are not nearly as sneaky and smart as you think you are!" I was struck dumb, and couldn't believe that she had exposed me to others. So I tried to avoid our friends, and became reclusive, trying to stay out of sight and out of trouble. Outside of my job, I stayed at home, and tried to be extra attentive to Cynthia and whatever she needed, even though she seemed to become distant while at the same time becoming very demanding about me doing more of the house work. She didn't intend to stay at home, just because I was ashamed to be seen by her friends. Soon my duties became all the house cleaning, laundry, and grocery shopping and cooking. I was trying to do everything I could to please her, but she never seemed to be happy with me. First she began working extra hours at work, telling me she was saving money for after we were married. She worked some extra evenings, but I found out later that she was spending time with other men. She would come home very late, smelling like alcohol, and brushing me off with an explanation that she had gone out for a few drinks after work with her girlfriends, would go to sleep. I let her know that I was angry about her late nights, but I was unprepared for what she said in response. "And why should you care anyway, sissy? Apparently you enjoy staying at home like a little housewife, cleaning, and doing laundry, and for all I know, flitting around in a little night gown, just like a real girl!" I collapsed a little inside, partly because of her venom, and partly because it was all true. After that things were different. Cynthia was a little nicer to me, but in such a way that I felt almost like a girlfriend or sister. Or a little dog. I definitely didn't feel like a fianc? or the man of the house. I seemed to be losing status in some undefinable way. She still kept working extra shifts, but was careful to pay some attention to me, often pulling me to her to use my mouth to please her at unexpected times, such as when we were watching television, or pulling me to her and to my knees while we were in the kitchen. She rarely reciprocated with any sex for me, but I was so grateful to have her attention that I didn't object. I enjoyed her spontaneity. She asked me nicely to shave my legs, telling me that a hairy body seemed incongruous for me, and that my "dressing up" as she called it, would be more fun. Even though I had been trying not to wear women's clothing because I was afraid that she would be angry or dismissive of me, I felt that maybe this was an indication that she was warming back up to me, and that our relationship was getting back to normal. So I complied, and did as she asked. Nail polish, (clear), followed on my fingers and pink for my toes, and gradually she introduced me into wearing some form of makeup even away from the house. Even though I started to get some looks from people at work, everything was pretty subtle, at least until I got back home, where lipstick and mascara was becoming normal. I love mascara! She demanded that I dress in at least women's jeans and a blouse when at home, to match my more and more feminized face. I wondered what all of this was leading to, and one day it all became clear. Cynthia again was working late, but called me and told me we would play a special game when she got home. She asked me to put on the white Gunny Sax dress, (I now think of it as the dress of shame) and to make myself up prettily, and wait for her to get home. I happily did as she asked, and was waiting for her in the living room when she arrived, holding a glass of wine for her, hoping to please her. When she breezed into the house, she squealed and complimented my appearance, and I was so pleased, feeling that maybe everything was going to be alright again. She quickly ordered me to my knees, and I happily obeyed, as she tied my hands together with a pair of nylons, and did the same to my legs and knees. She made the binding so tight that my hands were a little numb, but I figured that it wouldn't last long so I didn't complain. She then sat in a chair in front of me and tugged me until I was between her slightly spread legs. As she lifted her skirt and pulled off her panties, she said to me, "I hope you enjoy this sissy, because I certainly will". I was surprised but willing to play as she pulled my face between her legs. As I began lapping, I tasted something that didn't taste like her, and tried to pull back, but she gripped my hair and pulled me in tightly. "I want you to enjoy this sissy, while I tell you a little story. While you have been playing the little woman at home, I have been meeting other people, and I have met a man that doesn't dress like a woman, and who does something more for me in bed than submissively lick my vagina, and scurry to do the housework, and satisfy every little humiliating whim that I might have. Not only does he not wear makeup and shave his legs, he climbs on me without a command and pleases me like a man. I can tell he pleases you too, because you are licking him out of me like the sissy you are! By the way, his name is Bill". With a shudder she climaxed, and pushed me off her and onto my side. I lay there, humiliated while she straightened her clothing, and stood up. She reached for the phone, dialed a number and told someone, "It's over, you can come in". I just lay there, horrified that someone might see me like this, makeup smeared, and tied helplessly on the floor. She then took several pictures of me with her phone, telling me that they were for her memories and she would email me copies. There was no happy wish fulfillment fantasy ending, just my shame. The doorbell rang, and she let in her girlfriend Maxine, Steve her boyfriend, and a man whom I didn't know. Cynthia came over and stood over me while I tried to avoid everyone's eyes, and nudged me with her foot to look up at her. "You know sissy, if you had told me about yourself when I met you, we would not be in this situation now. I would not have become engaged to you, and we might even have become close girlfriends. Now I'm embarrassed to even know you, and everyone you know is going to see these photos, and hear the story about how you licked a real man's sperm out of my pussy. If you show your face again, everyone is going to recognize you for the cowardly sissy you are, too ashamed to be yourself, and too weak to satisfy a woman. Your life in the closet is over, and everyone is going to know you for who you are". As Cynthia spoke, the others were carrying boxes and suitcases out of the apartment and presumably loading them into a vehicle. The man, who I did not know, Bill I supposed, came to stand by her and grin down at me. "I'm leaving you, obviously. I'm moving in with a real man. I want you to know, sissy, that not once have you given me pleasure with your penis, which is laughably tiny by the way, and that I despise you for trying to fool me into thinking you were a man. I only stayed with you this long because you were a convenient maid, and I was looking for someone else. I only hope that you never do the same thing to another woman, and I hope that I never see you again". With that she left, and closed the door, leaving me tied up and in tears. How long I lay there I don't even know, but then I heard the door open. Maxine came back into the apartment, and knelt by my side, undoing the tightly knotted panty hose around my wrists, and helped me rub my wrists. "Look sissy. I feel badly about what Cynthia did, and I couldn't leave you here like this. I kind of wanted you to know that not everyone despises you, but you shouldn't have pretended to be a man with Cynthia. She was hurt, and felt betrayed and she is very angry. I hope that you can learn from this and be more honest in the future. A woman wants to know what she's getting into and you owe her the truth." Seeming embarrassed, she left, and I freed my legs. I went straight to the liquor bottle in the cabinet under the sink. I drank and I cried for hours. In the morning I loaded my belongings into my car and left, no, fled town. A year passed. I was in a new town about sixty miles from where I had lived before. I had a new job in a ladies shoe store, new friends, and a new life. I still had intense feelings of femininity, still felt submissive fantasies, still felt as though I had an inner sense of femaleness. The only difference is that I didn't hide it from anybody. My ego was completely shattered. I felt emotionally naked, but I accepted it as my penance for disappointing Cynthia and ruining my engagement. I existed. What everyone saw was what I was. I just couldn't be bothered to hide anymore. I still missed Cynthia for some reason, and couldn't hate her for what she did to me. I had really done it to myself. If I was honest with myself, I still loved her. In a strange way, I internalized her humiliation of me and began to own who I was, and what I had wrought with my omission of the truth about myself. I suppose what everybody saw was a slight man, with longish styled hair, plucked eyebrows and obvious but subtle makeup. Some people made rude comments, and some people accepted me. I took the good with the bad, defended myself when necessary, and just tried to be honest with everyone. I had already lost everything that could be taken from me at least in a personal sense, and I had no misplaced male pride left. I was just me. Then one day Cynthia walked in and sat down. I was fitting a pair of shoes for an older woman, and as I rang them up for her, I glanced over and saw her. I simply froze. She looked me straight in the eyes and then pointed to a pair of high heels on a rack in front of her. "Size 9, as you know". In a state of shock, I went and got her the size that she wanted, and returned to her in a sort of daze. I knelt in front of her chair, and looked up at her. "You seem to have come out of your shell, sissy", she said with what seemed to be a sincere smile. Not knowing what to say or feel, I nodded and placed a shoe on her beautiful left foot. I felt small and exposed, even though I probably should have been feeling anger or resentment. "It took me a while to find out where you had moved to, sissy", she said. My mouth fell open. "Why are you calling me that, and why would you want to find me? "Because that's what you are, a sissy, and because I missed you", she said with a vulnerable expression on her face. "But, but, I thought you hated me! Hell, I hated myself for a while. What do you mean?" I asked in confusion. "I mean that after I was with Bill for a while I got tired of his continual overbearing macho attitude, and I began to think of you and regretting what I did to you. I missed the closeness and intimacy I had with you, and even your softness and gentleness. Yes, I missed your sissy nature! I miss you!" "But what about Bill? I asked. "Bill took off with another woman. Real men can be assholes sometimes. You never were, but you're not a man". God she was hard core. She went on. "You just tried in your own sweet way to make me happy. I was angry because you weren't what I thought you should be. But now I know you were what I really wanted. Can you ever forgive me? Would you consider marrying me?" I didn't have to think too hard about it. As I slipped the other heel on her foot I said, "On one condition. If you ever need a real man again, talk to me about it, and then do whatever you want to do. I only want to make you happy. I don't want to be anything other than what I am, a sissy. Your sissy!" I did have a fantasy ending after all. Except that it really wasn't the end of the story. We finally got married, yes, and Maxine and Steve were there at our wedding. Bill wasn't invited. Of course we had a lot of talking to do first. Like, why did she force me to eat another man's spend out of her body, and why didn't it bother me a great deal? That was an interesting question. Why did she humiliate me about the size of my penis, and why did she tell me I hadn't pleased her with it ever? Her answer wasn't totally satisfying. "Well, I was in the moment, and it just seemed like the thing to say. I was so angry at you for being a little femme sissy. At least I thought I was. Maybe I was angry with myself for kind of liking it. And your penis isn't that tiny. Anyway, there are lots of fun things we can do with it. My question for you is why you spontaneously told me it was okay to go out with a real man when you were on your knees in front of me at the shoe store?" There it was, the cuckolding offer that I blurted out with no conscious volition. It is interesting that we both spoke about real men, and didn't question the assumption that I wasn't one. I tried to address the part of her statement that I had to. "I guess... I guess that somehow I feel that you are so beautiful, so desirable and I want to please you. If I can't satisfy you in the way that a real man can, I would want you to have that, and enjoy that. It sounds silly, but somehow it's as though I'm offering a gift, a sacrifice to a queen, I don't really understand it..." I was beginning to blubber like a child, but she stopped me, looked deeply into my soul with her beautiful green eyes, and kissed me on the mouth deeply, and softly. I could taste her lipstick. "Thank you for your gift. I accept it. I will do whatever I choose to do. And you will do whatever I choose that you do. I think that this will suit both our natures. But let's drop the real man word usage, and refer to you as what you are, and what I love, a sissy. The others are men, period." Cynthia could shift my reality with one word. I love her. I'm her sissy. So we got married, and I moved into her house. In the year that I was away selling high heels, flats, slippers and ladies sandals, Cynthia was moving up in her office hierarchy, due a lot to the fact that she was comfortable socializing with the men in the power structure, and was a competent hard worker. It goes without saying that being flat out beautiful and intelligent helped to secure her own rise through the ranks. In order to bring in income, I quickly got a department store position in the women's shoe department as I had some experience. The job wasn't too demanding, but after a month I was transferred to the makeup counter, where a real education began. After the manager noticed that I always wore some makeup, I guess she thought I was a natural for the position. I quickly felt at home wearing the same pale pastel smocks that the sales girls were wearing, and no one made any fun of me, they were just helpful and nice. One change that came quickly is that I was wearing a more dramatic makeup while at work. It just seemed to go with working at the makeup counter. It amused the girls to try the creams and powders on my face, and I enjoyed it as well. At home our married life became quiet, happy, and very normal. We were as comfortable and pleased with each other as any married couple could possibly be. Since she was pleased that I should be her sissy, I decided to never make her regret it. I became compliant, conforming, cooperative and as much as possible I tried to become an extension of her. I fit her like a glove. I anticipated her needs, agreed with her thoughts, opinions and decisions. I became as comfortable to her as a pair of her stockings, or panties. In fact it became one of my favorite things to help her with her nylons and lingerie as she got ready for work. She enjoyed it and began to reward me with more favorite things as I tried to please her. Sex was magnificent, we enjoyed every possible act, me worshipping her with my fingers and mouth, in every possible way, and I will leave some to your imagination out of modesty. She in turn rubbed me through my panties, pleased me with her mouth, tied me up and tantalized me, spanked me and make me perform obeisance to her in many secret and shameful and wonderful ways. She even took my penis into her, albeit infrequently. That frequency lessened to none, but I didn't notice, I was so fulfilled by her, and content to be her sissy. In accordance with her desire, I became more and more feminine, although I toned it down for the makeup counter. I didn't want them to think I was too much of a sissy! At home it was another matter. I became her girl in all ways that could matter. I loved rushing home from work, putting on some sissy outfit, making my beloved wife a wonderful meal, and a cold martini for when she walked in the door. Sometimes she had to work late and didn't make it home in time for dinner, but she was always thoughtful about telling me when she had to work late, or dine with a client or boss. She always was wonderful to me when she came home and we had very satisfying lovemaking. In our accustomed ways. Then one evening she came home from work, accepted her cocktail, and told me that she had to leave town for a series of meeting with big clients, a whole week in San Francisco. While I knew that I would miss her, I knew that she was really getting successful in her firm, and I was proud and pleased for her. "Sissy, I know you're going to miss me, and I'm going to miss you too, but this is going to be good for both of us. If this week goes the way I think it is, I'll be in line for a promotion, and more responsibility and that means more money for us. While I'm gone, I'm going to want you to do an extra deep house cleaning. From top to bottom, inside and out, windows, curtains, floor, walls and ceilings, I want our lovely home to be immaculate. If this happens the way I'm planning for it to, we may be entertaining many evenings at home. Oh, by the way, I have some packages in the car I want you to bring inside". All right, I know what you're thinking, and I was thinking the same thing. This is the point in a sissy story where the husband brings in some packages and they contain a maid's uniform. Well, that's what it was. What a marvelous black dress! This was not a fantasy French maid fetish costume, but a real working maids uniform, with a white full size apron, not a frilly pinafore, black stockings, and flat comfortable shoes. I was in awe at my wife's understanding of my very being. My submissive femininity swept over me and washed me away. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" I gushed. Cynthia just looked on smiling. I held the dress up to me and swished it around my legs. "Now don't wear it tonight, put it away until I leave. I want you to be properly motivated for your house keeping job when I'm gone. Besides, you have to pack me enough clothing for a week, and make sure you put my pretty black garter belt, stockings, and basque in the suitcase. I may get lucky when I'm out of town." There it was. The suggestion that she may meet a man. Hadn't I already given her permission? My mind was numb with implications. What if she decides to take advantage of my offer? She saw my face, and knew what I was thinking. With an expression of deep caring she caressed my face and told me with a loving voice, "This is what we both want, sissy. You know that you are my dearest love, and I will never, never leave or stop loving you. But we both want me to have a "real man" as we used to say, and I need to feel that driving male energy sometimes. I want you to stop thinking like a so called "man" and just do ask I ask. Stop trying to feel what you believe you ought to feel, and just be what you are without pretense, without deception. You know how that almost ruined our relationship before. Just be yourself, for me'" As she spoke, I felt myself sink into an acceptance that would have been impossible in our previous life together, before we almost lost it all forever. "All right. I'll do what you ask. I'll always do what you ask. I'm yours to do whatever you want me to". "My what?" She asked. "Your sissy". "My sissy maid? Forever and ever?" "Forever and ever." In the morning she was gone, and I thought about the week to come. Next- In my maids uniform I felt more compliant, more docile, more feminine than I had ever felt in my life. Every waking hour that I wasn't at work at the cosmetic counter, I cleaned the house from top to bottom. I never felt more content in my life. Every motion I made was homage to Cynthia. During the week I spoke to her a few times on the telephone. She called me, but she was brief and seemed to be very busy. "How is the house cleaning going?" was the first question she asked. "Really well, I'm making great progress and I think you'll be pleased." I said. "Are you in uniform, sissy?" "Of course I am, just as you asked. Are you busy, and more importantly, are you happy?" "Yes, very happy. Look, I have to go to dinner with the client; I just wanted to let you know I may have met a man. At least he seems very interested in me. He's very good looking." There was a silence. "Sissy, are you there?" "Yes Cynthia." "Look, don't sulk, and don't be sad. This is what I want, so you will want it to. Or have you been deceptive again?" "No Cynthia, I'm not being deceptive. This is just so soon. I'll be okay." "I have to go now sissy. I'll tell you how things are progressing. Good bye." At the end of the week the house was spotless, and I was ready, and longing for Cynthia to come home. I halfway expected her to have company, and I nerved myself to behave perfectly, as a good cuckold sissy should be expected to. Everything was ready for Cynthia, except my sissy heart. When Cynthia's taxi arrived in front of the house, I quickly went to the front door, and opened it for her. A broad male back was bending into the taxi, paying off the driver. I quietly curtseyed to Cynthia, a move I had been practicing all week. From what I had read, the curtsey was a required form of respect from a sissy maid. At any rate, it was delightfully subservient, and I reveled in it. My eyes met Cynthia, who was smiling lovingly at me, drinking in the image of my humble maid's attire. I nervously smiled back at her, wondering what she thought of my sissy appearance, which I had worked so hard to make convincing. Her first words were reassuring and kind. "You look wonderful, sissy. So does what I see of the house. I will reward you with a favorite thing of yours later. But now I want you on your best sissy maid behavior as you greet our guest. We need to decide whether this will work out." Wondering what she was talking about, I turned to look at the man who was coming up to the door. My jaw dropped as Bill, who Cynthia had left me for over a year ago walked into the house grinning at me. "Oh my God, what is this Cynthia?" I asked in disbelief. I was beginning to tremble, suspecting some huge humiliation was waiting for me. "Calm down sissy, and I will explain. I ran into Bill in San Francisco because he is one of my firm's clients, and he was when I met him. You asked me no questions about him, so I didn't tell you anything. I have been doing nothing behind your back, and I never will. We had a good conversation about what has happened in the past, and to make a long story short, the same things that attracted me to him then, attracted me to him now. He's strong and handsome, and what I can tell you about his stamina and virility would make you blush. The qualities you don't possess, sissy." She turned the screws in tighter. "He doesn't wear makeup or maid's uniforms, and his penis makes yours look like a tinker toy. But he isn't you either. He doesn't love me, cater to me, answer my every need, he isn't part of me, as you are. He isn't my husband, or my life, as you are, sissy. But he is a man, and you agreed, no offered, to let me have men. Well, I had him several times in San Francisco, and I'm going to have him now. So now greet our guest properly." I slowly turned to Bill and dropped into my very best curtsey. Cynthia is the most incredible woman I have ever met. She will never cease to blow my mind. It is my new favorite thing. Lesson learned. Tamlyonne