What Cuckolds want
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Sissy Cuckold's Turnaround free porn video
SISSY CUCKOLD'S TURNAROUND by Throne
I got home from work and my wife Tyra was waiting for me with an impish
expression on her pretty face. She was wearing a snug sleeveless top
and skintight slacks, so her buxom, big-butted figure was well shown
off. I knew something was up and stood there, my usual meek self,
anticipating some new indignity.
She wanted to know, "Which panties did I put out for you this morning?
Let's have a look. In fact, just strip down to your pretty undies."
In minutes I was out of what I'd worn to the office, the typical dress
shirt, jacket and slacks, and standing before her in just a pair of
panties. My slender figure, which I'm required to keep free of all body
hair, is far from imposing. Tyra is a few inches taller than me, plus
the added height her heels give her. At that moment her feet were clad
in a bright green shoes with open toes and two inch block heels. She
looked down on me, reached out, and ruffled my collar length hair.
"Aren't you cute, with your girly figure and those sweet lavender
panties? That color really suits you. It just hollers 'SISSY'." She
chuckled. "But I want you completely prettied up for this evening.
Though it is a shame to cover up that tiny bump in your panties. Tell
me again what that's supposed to be."
My cheeks grew warm with shame as I said, in a soft whisper of a voice,
"That's my penis, dear."
"Your WHAT?"
"M... my p... penis."
"Are you sure? I thought a penis was supposed to be longer than that.
And thicker. And have hair growing above it."
"I... I mean... you know that I'm..."
As much as I wanted to defend myself, it was close to impossible with
the undersized dick that peeked through the not-quite-opaque panties. A
few more stammered attempts passed my lips before I gave up. All I
could do was gaze at my desirable wife and wish that I was man enough to
possess her. And that she didn't amuse and excite herself by reducing
me to a sissy. Tyra said something about selecting what I would wear
but then there was a loud knock on the front door. I froze but she
smiled wickedly.
My wife said, with one plump index finger held up so that its tip
touched her rounded chin, "I wonder who THAT could be? Why don't you go
and see, Mark?" She paused and then corrected herself, "I mean Marlene.
Scamper over there and find out who it is."
I had a bad feeling that it was exactly who I feared it might be. My
wife had dated several men in the year since we got married. They
enjoyed her sexual favors while I was relegated to serving as her
bedroom slave and hearing about her exploits with what she liked to
refer to as 'superior men'. She had been hinting that she might invite
her newest lover to visit her at home. I had expected her to send me
out for the evening when that time came. There had even been the
possibility, in my mind, that I might get to go and see a movie. But
not now. She had gone to the limit and decided to have him visit while
I was here... and mostly undressed.
As I approached the door, knowing that she was watching me from behind,
I added a sway to my hips and held my arms out slightly to the sides,
letting my wrists go limp. I stopped at the door, finger-combed my
hair, and put on a simpering smile. My ego had shrunk to the size of a
pea, it felt like, as I put my hand on the doorknob, turned it, and
opened the door. Standing on our front porch was a tall broad-
shouldered picture of male confidence, with a square jaw and bright
smile.
He looked at me, guffawed, and stepped past. I was grateful to be able
to shut the door before anyone outside might see me. As I turned, I saw
he had gone straight to Tyra and was hugging her in his strong arms.
She let her head fall back, closed her eyes, and parted her lips. He
brought his mouth to hers and they kissed ardently. My bride's big
round breasts were pressed to his manly chest. She moaned loudly enough
for me to hear. I stood there wringing my hands, not wanting to have to
see them, and definitely not wanting him to see me again.
But their embrace ended and he stretched one long arm in my direction
and, without even bothering to glance my way, snapped his fingers and
beckoned me nearer with a flick of his large hand. I minced over to
them, mindful of how my wife had taught me to move with exaggerated
femininity. Involuntarily biting my lower lip, I waited to learn what
he wanted.
Tyra said, "I know I promised you he would be all dolled up when you got
here, Stan, but then I decided it might be fun for you to watch me give
him one of his make-overs."
"That would be a hoot," he said, smirking at me. "I really get off on
the idea that not only am I bedding a married woman, but that she's
turned her husband into a pansy wimp."
"Well," she told him, "he was already a wimp when I met him. And the
potential to be turned into a pansy was certainly there. I mean, I
spotted it right away. He was exactly the easy-to-control type I
wanted. So all I did was to put him in touch with his girly side."
Her words stung but, the longer she kept turning me into her house-sissy
(as she sometimes called me), the more convinced I was becoming that she
might really be correct. Maybe I was meant to be a failure as a
husband, good mainly to amuse my sexy wife by being there for her to
turn into a faux female, a gender-confused, obedient, uncomplaining
object of fun for her, and no impediment to the infidelity which she
delighted in practicing and using to taunt me. But now, having her
latest man here in our home... it was my worst humiliation yet.
"So," Stan said cheerfully. "What do you do first? Stick a big poufy
wig on his head?"
Tyra chortled at that idea but said, "No, I like to style his hair.
Just put on some product and give it whatever look I'm in the mood for.
Like maybe..." She pursed her pillow lips and drew her dark eyebrows
together slightly. "...what a sissy boy on the prowl would want."
"On the prowl? You mean like a tramp? A sissy tramp? That would be
hilarious." He eyed me up and down. "And kind of a turn-on."
I went cold all over. My knees felt weak. Before Stan could say
anything else about it, Tyra came over and pinched my ear, tugging me
along behind her. Stan followed us to the bedroom, where she sat me
down in her vanity chair. On the table in front of me were her
cosmetics. But those weren't what she used on me. I had my own
collection of make-up, which was heavy on cheap products, loud colors,
and the thickest mascara she could find. I sat there uncomfortably,
aware of how exposed I was to Stan's hungry gaze. How I wished he
hadn't made that comment about giving me a trashy look being exciting to
him. My wife ignored my concerned expression and started to pick
through the products she would use to transform me. She absently
sprayed me with perfume while she made her choices.
While Stan watched with interest, she outlined my lips and colored them
magenta, then applied a coat of clear gloss. In the mirror opposite me
I saw how unnatural my mouth looked, like I was advertising it to men.
Then she went to work on my eyes, using too much liner, too much shadow
and, of course, way too much mascara. Tyra finished the job by applying
shadow to create the impression of strong cheekbones, something that my
soft face didn't actually possess.
Next she went to work on my hair, applying some sort of gel, using a
comb, and styling as she went. Before long the ends were curled under
at the bottom, the hair hanging straight, so that my features were
framed. It was side-parted and draped across my forehead at an angle,
which drew more attention to my overdone eyes. She considered her work
and finished me off by adding a shadow under my lower lip to make it
appear pouty. Stan was marveling at my new look, openly surprised by
how extreme the changes were. Tyra had me stand up and walk around,
hips swishing. She made me pose with the end of my index finger between
my lips. Then she had a brainstorm.
She said to me, "Marlene, you look like a cheap queen-of-the-come-on.
Why don't you practice a little on Stan? Pretend he's some guy you want
to pick you up."
I froze inside. Did she really expect me to degrade myself like that?
I mean, I had gotten somewhat accustomed to being made-up and dressed.
But this was something totally new.
When I didn't react quickly enough, Tyra suggested, "Or we could play a
different scene. Maybe one where you're a whore who tried to steal
Stan's wallet. And now he's really mad at you. And he decides that you
deserve a really long and hard spanking. I mean, it's up to you,
Marlene. I'm happy to let you decide these things for yourself."
Some choice. I stammered out that I would take the first option.
Trying to get control of myself, I went to Stan and looked up at him. I
could see the beginnings of beard shadow on his strong jaw. How I
wished I could be manly like him. How I craved a chance to enjoy my
wife's magnificent body. I sometimes imagined myself on top of her,
like a real husband, instead of with my face between her heavy but firm
thighs, my mouth pressed to her sex while I used my tongue to give her
multiple orgasms. But at that moment I had to act the part she had
assigned me, to avoid finding myself over Stan's lap with his wide hand
smacking my upturned bottom over and over.
I said in a sultry voice, "Hello, handsome. Are you a little lonely?
Would you like to get friendly? How about if you buy me a drink?" He
smirked at me and my wife told me to do more. Hesitantly, I put my hand
on his broad chest and rubbed it up and down. No words came into my
head. Then, without thinking, I blurted out, "I could make you very
happy. And you could do that same for me." Where had that come from?
Suddenly he was grinning. His hands settled heavily on my narrow
shoulders. He pulled me against him and held me there.
Stan said, "Sure, I'll buy you that drink. And you can tell me just how
we'll make each other so happy. I mean, I already know what I can do
for you." He pressed his crotch meaningfully against me. Stan was so
much bigger than me down there. I blushed with shame and discomfort.
He wanted to know, "But what can you do for me?"
I glanced toward Tyra, hoping she would call an end to this little
drama. Instead, she gestured toward Stan and rotated her hand in the
air, indicating that I should continue. Still pressed against him, I
licked my lips nervously. The way that made him smile told me that he
had read unintended meaning into it. I involuntarily tried to pull away
but he kept me where I was. I felt so strange to have my mostly naked
body against his fully clothed one. I could smell his masculine musk.
Improvising desperately, I whispered, "W... what can I do for you?" I
tried to think what I would want a girl to do for me. What I had always
wished my wife would do. I went on, "Well, I would let you touch me
everywhere. And I would..." It was hard to get the words out. "...
would touch you everywhere. With my hands and... mouth."
Feeling faintish, I leaned against him for support. He took that the
wrong way too, wrapping his one arm around me and cupping my chin in his
rough hand. He turned my face up toward his and began to bring his
mouth toward mine. Just as I was about to either lose consciousness or
have a panic attack, Stan laughed and released me. He went to my wife,
took her in his arms, and delivered the kiss that I hadn't gotten. It
was long and deep. I could only stand there staring at them, trying to
sort out my feelings.
The big man stood with one arm around Tyra's waist. He told her, "You'd
better be careful, baby. That sissy husband of yours might just steal
me away from you."
She boldly rubbed his crotch, feeling his already stiff prick, and told
him, "Let me get her into the rest of her outfit and, when she's all
dressed, I'll show you why you want me and not her." She gave me a
stern look and said, "Right, Marlene?"
I could only nod while I took several deep relieved breaths. Tyra went
to her dresser and picked out several items. She didn't usually have my
things in there but I guessed this was all part of the game she was
playing to demonstrate my sissy status to Stan. What she held up was a
tiny, dark grey top that would leave my belly exposed, and a super-
short, pleated charcoal skirt that would show off my smooth hairless
legs all the way up to near the tops of my thighs. There was also a
pair of patterned stockings with designs of spider webs on them. They
had elastic tops and would stay up by themselves. The finishing touch,
which she fetched from the bottom of her closet, was a pair of black
shoes with three inch stacked heels and square toes.
Stan watched in fascination as I got dressed. With all the practice I'd
had, I slipped into the odd fashion choices with ease. It wasn't until
I was done and had taken a few steps in those heels, that my wife opened
her closet. I could see my reflection in the full-length mirror mounted
on the inside of the door. Of course. I was dressed like a Goth girl,
but with more emphasis on the sexiness of the make-up. Oh no. Not only
did I resemble the wrong gender, but I had also been cast into a role
that was nothing like my real self. I felt so out of control.
"So," my wife asked Stan, "isn't Marlene a cutie?"
"Sure is."
She put her arms around him. "But wouldn't you rather have me?"
"I have to choose?" he said jokingly.
She gave his arm a playful slap and said, "Let's get each other
undressed and put that bed to good use. Ready?"
He grinned at her. "Ready, willing and able."
They got busy removing each other's clothes, doing lots of touching at
the same time. Stan obviously appreciated her breathtaking curves, but
he also stole a look at me. And then another. Soon they were sitting
on the edge of the bed, kissing hungrily. But before they could move on
to the main act, Tyra's cell phone buzzed. It was a ringtone I'd never
heard before but she obviously recognized it.
"Damn," she said softly. "Stan, baby, I have to get that. It's a
company I ordered from on-line. Lots of pretty things for Marlene.
Even some ruffled panties. I'll make it quick," she finished, gazing
longingly at his thick eight-inch erection.
He told her, "Relax, lover. Take your time. I'll just chill out until
you're done."
She hurried away, her wide rump wiggling. Stan's attention shifted to
me. I was seized by emotional paralysis.
The big man stayed where he was and smiled. He said, "Hey, it's okay,
cute stuff. I'm not going to bite you. Not unless you want me to. Now
come over here in front of me so I can feast my eyes on you."
Gee whiz. He was really interested in me. I guessed that it made sense
for my wife to pick someone who wasn't turned off by a sissy like me.
And if he wasn't turned off, maybe he was turned on. That proud hard-on
certainly wasn't shrinking. I went and stood in front of where he was
sitting. He gestured for me to get onto the floor. Feeling fluttery
inside, I lowered myself to my knees. There was only about a foot
between us. His magnificent cock was mesmerizing. Unfamiliar emotions
coursed through me.
Stan reached out. His fingers found my nipples and toyed with them
through the top. I gasped but he shushed me. I nodded to tell him I
would try to stay quiet. That earned me a second smile. It felt good
to be pleasing him. I felt... cared for. Protected. And maybe even...
I wasn't sure what else. His active fingers did their job. My small
dick grew stiff and pressed outward against the front of my panties.
Without thinking, I lifted the front of my brief skirt and turned my
eyes downward, drawing his attention to my reaction. He raised his
eyebrows questioningly. It was my turn to smile at him. A connection
had been made, one that I wouldn't have expected. Had my wife really
changed me that much? Was the sissy potential she had seen in me early
on actually that strong?
His hands moved upward, took the sides of my head gently. He brought my
face lower. I didn't resist. But all he did was to press my cheek
against his thigh. I felt the warmth of his skin and smelled his male
muskiness. I experienced a moment of shame because my rising
temperature was making my scent, which was hyacinth, grow stronger. My
wife had decided the floral aroma should be my 'signature'. My eyes met
Stan's and there was a moment of silent communication. I turned my head
and lightly kissed his other thigh, feeling his hard member bumping
against my ear. He chuckled at my shy effort and stroked my shoulder.
I sighed.
"Stan," my wife called from the spare bedroom across the hall, which was
her workspace. "I have to go on-line to make some changes in the order.
I'm so sorry."
"Don't worry," he reassured her. "I'm fine. Honest."
The mood was suddenly conspiratorial. It was Stan and myself -- my
sissy self -- against Tyra. All at once I felt empowered. And that
other sensation that I hadn't been able to identify moments before made
itself clear. It was attraction. I exhaled slowly, as if I was
expelling much of my past, and then shifted around enough that I had the
head of Stan's tempting cock directly in front of my mouth.
He murmured encouraging words. "Go ahead, sweetie. If you want to."
He was even letting me choose. My heart felt weightless. I parted my
brightly colored lips and put them around the bulbous head of his
member. I let them touch him, feather light. He gasped. That was all
the reaction I needed. All at once I was sucking greedily on his knob.
My tongue teased the underside. I moved my head forward and took in
another two inches of his thickness, but that seemed to be my limit. I
would be able to do better with practice and I was suddenly very eager
to learn. I worshipped his glorious organ as my bride fine-tuned the
order for more sissy fashions. The idea of her building a wardrobe that
I could use to seduce Stan made me smile, which wasn't easy with my
mouth so full.
Letting him slide out of my mouth, I ducked down to press my lips to his
large balls. There was hair on them but I was no longer upset by the
smoothness of my own scrotum. I was almost... proud. Yes, I really had
gotten in touch with my girly side. I licked his nuggets happily and
resumed mouthing his cock. I swallowed an additional inch of the shaft
and felt a sense of accomplishment. I wanted to be his expert and
devoted cocksucker. With my hands on his muscular thighs, I worked my
head forward and back, making him moan and twitch. Now who was in
power?
"Hey," Tyra called from the other room. "If you get bored, you can
always give Madeline that spanking I was talking about."
Stan pushed me back off his cock, but did it with a light touch. He
caught his breath and called out, "Good idea. A naughty sissy deserves
to get her fanny walloped. But maybe later. I'm just going to let her
be humiliated by how much you made her resemble a total slut."
My wife laughed. Then she excused herself. Stan checked to see my
response. I licked around the corona of his cock and then gave a few
more sucks.
In a stage whisper he told me, "You really are naughty. And I do owe
you a good hard spanking on that pretty ass."
I told him, "Yes, Sir. Whatever you say. Do you want me to stop what
I'm --" (Suck!) "-- doing right now --" (Suck. Swirl. Suck.) " --
Sir?"
His voice was strained as he said, "Don't you dare, you teasing bitch."
I giggled like a girl and resumed paying homage to his wonderful man-
meat. It felt so right to be doing that. After several more minutes he
began to groan. Was Stan getting ready to shoot? Was I prepared for
that? As if to answer the first question, he took hold of my head with
both hands and kept me still while he pumped energetically. Then he
removed one hand and, still keeping me where I was, stopped humping
while just the knob of his cock was in my mouth, and began to stroke
himself. I understood and sucked furiously to help drive him over the
top. My hands went to his balls and I massaged them tenderly, as much
for my gratification as for his stimulation. He reached the point of no
turning back. I felt his cream hit the roof of my mouth, the back of my
throat, and quite possibly my tonsils. It coated my tongue and puddled
on the floor of my mouth. I didn't want to swallow and lose it.
Stan wanked himself dry, squeezing out every last drop of his precious
fluids. I stayed where I was, savoring it, until too much of my own
saliva mixed with it and I had to gulp some down. Even that felt good.
He dropped his hands to his sides and I gave his rod a few final sucks,
taking its shrinking length completely into my insatiable mouth. He
dropped back onto the mattress, leaving me kneeling between his powerful
legs. I rubbed them lovingly and planted several extra kisses all over
his three-piece set. We stayed like that, both of us enjoying the
afterglow.
Tyra called to him, "Almost done. Sorry for the delay."
He fingered my ear and said to me, "I'm not. It was a lovely delay."
I asked him with concern, "Won't my wife know what happened? I mean,
you won't be able to... er... perform now."
"No, but I will in about fifteen minutes."
"OMG, I was never able to bounce back that soon. You know, when she
still let me... have sex with her."
"Well, I'm good for double-headers. Which means that whenever I come to
visit, we can try to sneak in a quickie. Or maybe I can send her out on
an errand while we have some private fun."
"Ohhh, Stan," I said breathlessly.
He held a forefinger up to his lips to signal me to not speak anymore.
I duplicated his action. He gave me a broad wink and I felt my cheeks
grow hot. It was all so... so intimate. And so wicked, sneaking our
fun in behind my wife's back.
Soon Tyra appeared at the door. She wanted to know if he was ready. He
asked her to get him a glass of red wine. She was happy to comply.
Then he said he would really like a piece of chocolate. Tyra was a bit
impatient but she took a look at his flaccid, still impressive cock, and
hurried away to get it. By the time she returned and the two of them
enjoyed their wine and chocolate, that stallion Stan really was ready.
But she didn't know that it was for a replay.
And that's how it's been ever since. In the months that have followed,
he and I have gotten in plenty of shared time while she's either
sleeping after sex with him or out for a drive, getting him something
that he just has to have. If they've already been to bed, I have to
suck his cock with her juices still on it, but even that has become part
of our secret sinning. Tyra still thinks she's in charge of everything.
I'm not going to burst her bubble. Not while I'm having so much fun
with her... I mean my... I mean OUR boyfriend.
*********
(Thanks to 'pantied sissy husband' and 'London pansy' for their recent
comments on some of my earlier stories. Always glad to learn what
readers think about titles for my 'library'.)
Kaylin
- 27.10.2021
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