The new Mrs Harris Part 3
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The New Mrs Harris Part 11 free porn video
Melissa hesitated, then looked at me and back at Mrs Harris. "Please
Michael, I want Janice to have bigger lips."
My mind was reeling, I wasn't sure what option I would have chosen, but
both seemed horrendous for me. Mrs Harris had a sly smile on her face.
"What sort of big lips, Melissa?" she said.
"Big blow job lips," Melissa mumbled.
Mrs Harris laughed. "Did you hear that Janice, your pretend girlfriend
wants you to have nice big blow job lips. Well tomorrow when you are at
the salon you can get them done. I want them as big as possible too, so
don't be thinking you will get away with just a little plumping. And
don't think these lips are just for show. You have to put them to good
use and get your moneys worth, so I want you to give a minimum of 5
blow jobs a week for the next 2 weeks, and I want to see some nice
bright pink and red lipstick every day too, don't think you will be
getting away with neutral colours!"
I was too shocked to speak as Mrs Harris said goodbye and vaulted back
over the fence. Melissa hugged me tightly and told me it would be
alright, but I just didn't see how it could be. It was the worst of
both worlds. My biggest fear was that by giving Allen so much oral sex
he wouldn't be able to get himself hard again to give me the sex I
needed to satisfy my urges. The only occasions I voluntarily gave Allen
a blow job in the past was when we hadn't had sex in a few days and I
wanted him to last long enough to make me orgasm, so I would suck him
off so he wouldn't cum too quickly when we had sex. I thought of them
as strategic blow jobs. Now I would have to make even more of an effort
to keep him aroused and that thought made me feel physically ill.
The following morning I woke up after a very broken nights sleep. Allen
had already left for work, so I got up and showered, and tried to
mentally prepare myself for my visit to the salon. As I was drying off
after my shower my phone buzzed a few times. I picked it up and thumbed
through the messages that had come through. They were from Mrs Harris,
and I couldn't believe what they said. She had messaged me to tell me
the outfit I was to wear to the salon. It was a short leopard print
skirt with matching 4 inch stilettos and a black top. I had seen the
skirt and shoes in the closet many times before, but they were so gaudy
I would never in a million years choose to wear them, and now I would
have to wear them to the salon!
She had also emailed the salon with a list of treatments that I
supposedly wanted. I was to have a full Brazilian wax, and I was to get
the new longer eyelashes they now had. I had worn the same length semi
permanent eye lashes since the moment of the swap. They were long and
obviously fake, and were individually attached on visits to the salon.
I had found them strangely heavy immediately after the swap, but I was
now used to them, and the thought of even longer more obviously fake
ones filled me with dread, as the last thing I wanted to do as a woman
was draw attention to myself.
As I sat naked on the edge of my bed dreading the day ahead, I knew I
had no option to get on with things. I went to my lingerie drawer and
fetched one of my new black bras and strapped myself in. A pair of
black panties followed, and I then pulled on the black top. It was
short sleeved and ridiculously tight, clinging to my enormous boobs to
the extent it was possible to make out the lacy pattern of my bra if
you looked hard enough.
My still puffy nipples also poked profanely through the thin fabric and
I could do absolutely nothing to hide them. I stepped into the leopard
print skirt and pulled it up over my wide hips, before zipping it up at
the back. The skirt was tight and fell just below my mid thigh and was
by far the shortest skirt I had worn since the swap. It made me feel
even more on display, and was much too short for a woman of my age to
wear. Stepping into the matching heels I stood in front of the mirror
and stared at my reflection. I looked like Mrs Harris had wanted me to
look. An ageing trophy wife dressed in clothes designed for someone
much younger. With no makeup on due to my imminent salon visit, I
looked older than normal and I suddenly realised how much better and
younger I looked when I wore makeup. I tried to pull the hem of the
skirt down to cover more of my legs, but it was pointless. I grabbed my
black handbag and made my way to the car for the drive to the salon.
Once inside the salon I really started to panic about what was about to
happen. My waxing was first, and I went through the normal
embarrassment of getting my legs and arm pits waxed. I had thankfully
very little body hair so the waxing was never really that painful, but
I had never yet gone through the embarrassment of a Brazilian wax. The
girl who was doing the waxing pulled the curtains around the waxing
table and asked me to remove my skirt and panties.
I did as she asked, as she then applied the warm wax around my pussy,
before rubbing on the waxing strip and pulling it quickly away. As I
lay on the waxing table I could feel my face burning with shame and
embarrassment, as she started rubbing a cooling cream around my pussy,
before she finished and said i could get dressed again.
As embarrassing as that ordeal was, I knew there was much worse to
come. It was hair and eyelashes next. The hair always took ages, and I
sat with my legs crossed as my colour was brushed onto my hair.
Apparently I was going a shade lighter, as bits of foil were stuck on
as I had high lights and lowlights applied, and while the colour was
given time to absorb, my old eyelashes were removed and longer thicker
ones attached. The whole time there was lots of inane chatter about
soap operas and guys, but I had got used to this and was able to join
in although I very seldom made any comments about guys.
I sat trying not to fidget too much, acutely aware of how short my
skirt was and now I also had the added discomfort of the new bra I was
wearing digging into my skin under my boobs. I had forgotten how
uncomfortable new bras could be, but none of my old ones fitted
properly any more so I would have to get used to more of this over the
next few weeks. Because of where it was digging in I couldn't really
adjust it either so I just had to sit there and put up with it.
When my eyelashes had been completed, it was the nail technicians turn
to work on me. I sat while my old nails soaked in acetone and were
removed, and for a few glorious minutes my fingers were free of the
cumbersome talons that normally adorned them. I thought back to a time
when I could use my hands to do pretty much anything without having to
think about how to do it because of having acrylics attached. My new
nails were to be the longest I ever had, as Mrs Harris has sent the
instructions in advance via email. They extended to almost a full inch
beyond my finger tips and after they were squared off, I watched with
dismay as they were painted a bright bubblegum pink and had tiny little
silver bows attached. When my nails had been completed it was time for
my lips to get done.
I was starting to panic and went to use the bathroom to buy myself some
time. I desperately wanted a cigarette but I didn't want my breath to
smell of smoke when my lips were being worked on, and as I sat on the
toilet peeing I took time to try and pull on the underside of my bra to
try and make it more comfortable. I sat there for a few minutes before
deciding I couldn't put off the inevitable any longer, and made my way
to the lip filler part of the salon to accept my fate.
The girl who was carrying out the produce was in her mid twenties, with
platinum blonde hair and obviously fake breasts, which despite being
quite large were still considerably smaller than the monsters that hung
from my chest. She introduced herself as Miranda.
"So you want them as big as possible, Janice?" she said cheerily. I
nodded a yes. "I loved the email you sent in, I love how you were so
open about wanting to give you husband even better blow jobs, I think
thats so sweet, he is a very lucky man," she continued before asking me
why I liked giving blow jobs so much. I was genuinely stuck for
something to say, before mumbling how I just liked being the best wife
I could be because Allen did everything for me.
Inside I was panicking, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and
my stomach was doing somersaults at the thought of what was to come.
Miranda cleaned the area around my mouth with a sterile wipe, before
giving me four injections, two in my bottom lip and two to my top lip.
I wasn't facing a mirror so I was unable to see what was happening, but
I could feel my lips swelling up as I sat there with my eyes sneezed
shut against the stinging of the injections. After about 15 minutes I
was told I was done, and I stood up and walked to have a look in the
mirror at what I looked like.
As much as I was trying to mentally prepare myself, I still wasn't
ready for the shock of my reflection. My lips were HUGE! and stuck in a
permanent duck pout! I lifted my hand to touch them. "Do you like
them?" Miranda asked.
Inside I was screaming "NO, I LOOK FUCKING RIDICULOUS!" but instead
just said, "Yes, they're great," and tried to smile as best I could. I
finally had my makeup done, and I had to have lipstick matching my
nails, and with the sticky shiny pink lipgloss liberally applied, I
looked at the finished product in the mirror. I looked how Mrs Harris
had wanted me to look. An ageing woman trying too hard to look younger.
Previously if I had my makeup done tastefully and wore conservative
clothes, I could actually make myself appear a lot younger than 48. But
with the lighter blonde hair, thick makeup, over inflated lips and
tarty clothes, I looked like a caricature of a desperate housewife.
I grabbed my handbag and paid for my treatments, struggling more than
normal with the even longer nails I had attached. Once outside I rifled
through my bag for my cigarette and lighter. Putting the cigarette in
my over stuffed lips I lit and felt immediately more relaxed as the
foul tasting smoke filled my lungs. I folded an arm under my huge bust
to try and take some of the enormous weight pulling on the shoulder
straps, and smoked my cigarette, noticing my pink lipstick on the
cigarette and watching my reflection in the window, my mini skirt and
tight low top giving every male who walked past a good eyeful. I also
thought that I would be the only guy who hated my lips, every man who
seen me now would know they were fake and probably think I had them
done to suck on cock, while every female would think I was a desperate
ageing slut. I blew a long stream of smoke out from my puffy pink lips
and stubbed out my cigarette in a bin, and hurried to my car, with the
sound of my leopard print heels clacking on the ground ringing in my
ears, and the wobble of my huge tits a constant reminder of the
predicament I was in.
When I got home, I hurried indoors before anyone could see me. I had no
sooner got inside when I heard another car pull up on the driveway. I
looked out of the window to see Melissa walking up the path. I really
didn't want to see her, well, the truth is I didn't want her to see me
looking like this, but I opened the door when she rang the doorbell and
she came inside.
She sat on the sofa and I sat beside her, her eyes focused on the huge
lips that now dominated my face.
"I'm so sorry, this is all my fault," she said, her hand resting on my
bare inner thigh.
"It's Ok" I said, trying to reassure her, but she shook her head. "It's
not OK, it's because I find it so hard to call you Janice, because I
know inside you aren't Janice, because I'm in love with the person
inside and now I cant even say your name without fear of more bad
things happening to you."
Melissa then did something I never expected, and then in and kissed me
gently on my huge pouting lips. She kissed me hard, holding me and then
slipping her tongue inside my mouth. I was so shocked but found myself
returning the kisses before pulling my head away. "Melissa, we cant do
this, we cant be together, its just not possible" I said, fighting to
hold back tears.
"Why not," she replied. "I love you and I think you love me, so whats
to stop us?" she said.
"Because you're not a lesbian, because in this body in 30 years older
than you, and because I no longer have the physical equipment to make
you happy, and you haven't got the equipment that this body needs to
get sexually satisfied, its just not going to work, and trust me, I
would like nothing more than to be with you forever," I said.
But Melissa wouldnt be deterred, she kissed me again, this time her
hand sliding up my thigh and reaching inside my panties, searching out
the soft warm folds of my vagina. Her touch felt magical as she worked
my clitoris with her fingers while kissing me, her free hand rubbing my
stiff nipples though the thin fabric of my top. I moaned as she worked
my pussy, I could feel it spasm and contract around her fingers as she
continued to kiss me. I slipped my hands under her t-shirt, unhooking
her bra and now I was able to fondle her breasts, which felt so
different to mine, firm and pert, and felt her nipples become erect.
We continued making out for what seemed like ages, however as much as
Melissa tried to get me to cum, this cursed body took me to the brink
of orgasm and no further. Eventually the frustration got too much for
me and I had to pull away and ask Melissa to stop, I just couldn't take
anymore frustration. Melissa was now crying, upset that what I had said
earlier was turning out to be true.
I hugged her close, trying to ignore how horny I felt. In all my time
in this body it had only been a few times that my bod had felt this
horny. I needed Allen to get home, and I needed to get him into bed,
although the thought of having to suck him off beforehand was also on
my mind and wasn't something I was particularly looking forward to.
Melissa got up to leave, wiping the tears away on her sleeve. She
kissed me goodbye with a gentle kiss to my lips and cupped my huge
breasts in her small hands. "I Love you," she said as she turned to
leave. "I love you too, Melissa," I said. As I closed the door behind
her I caught a look at myself in the mirror. After what had just
happened with Melissa, I had felt more like Michael, more masculine
than I had in months, but the reflection staring back at me in the
mirror couldn't have looked more feminine. Everything about the way I
looked now was ultra feminine. My heart shaped feminine face framed
with long blonde hair, my huge lips and extra long eyelashes added to
the femininity, my enormous breasts, huge hips and shapely legs were
all very womanly, and as I stood there perched in 4 inch leopard print
stilettos looking at the reflection staring back, the complete
hopelessness of my situation hit home again.
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- 16.03.2022
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