Absinthe Dreams
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Living The Dream free porn video
I would like to thank Cassandra Morgan's 'A Few More Favourite Themes'
for putting me on to the stories by Mrs Anyonamrs and Miss Anyonamiss :
Careful and Careful 2. They were basically one story from two
perspectives, but provided the inspiration for my short and
comparatively dim shadow of an offering here. The original stories
seemed to hang in the air, have the author(s) thought of giving them
both a definite finish? They were too good to be just left with
unanswered questions.
As the storyline is now some fourteen years old, what about Cassandra
finishing them off.
LIVING THE DREAM
"Lyn, can I have something different for my birthday treat this year?"
It seemed an innocuous enough request. Ever since we had been married
we had found a way to give each other something special for our birthday
without it costing a huge amount of money. Last year, for example, Mike
had arranged a reunion of some of my old school friends and we had a
fantastic party talking about old times. The year before I'd arranged a
day out on the Oulton Park motor cycle race track for him with an
instructor and a high powered motorcycle. I was scared to death that he
would hurt himself on one of the most famous tracks in Europe, but he
had the time of his life.
"What is it you have in mind Mike?" I asked him.
"When I was a small boy, my Mother used to dress me in girl's clothes,
just for fun. My sister Beth found out and did the same for ages, until
she left home to go to University, you know she's six years older than
me. I know it sounds silly, but I miss it, do you think you could help
me?"
I was shocked. I'd only ever thought of my husband as being all man,
not come fairy.
"Are you gay?" I asked. "Do you want to go out and get a man?"
"No!" He was quite upset that I should think such a thing, but what
else should I think about someone who wanted to look like a woman?
He explained to me that he had done some research on the subject and
thought that he was probably a transvestite, definitely not homosexual,
suggesting I look up the difference on the web.
Well, you can imagine, I knew there could be little difference between
them, so didn't waste my time. How things could have been different if
I had.
"I have daydreams about being with another man, but I keep them in the
realms of dreams, I wouldn't think of acting upon them, what's the
difference?"
"My darling Lyn," he replied, "the difference is that it would be
something between husband and wife, not adultery, please forget I said
anything about it."
Well I didn't. I forget what I gave him for his birthday, a tie and
some cufflinks to add to his collection, I think. What I couldn't
forget was his bizarre request. Here was my husband, a man's man,
saying that he wanted to prance about like some sissy rent boy, no
better than a prostitute.
Anyway it wasn't long after when Mike had his accident. A so called
'joy rider' had stolen a car and while being chased by the police he
mounted the pavement and hit him. He was in hospital for three weeks
and only allowed home with a good supply of painkillers. Fortunately
his work wasn't effected, he took over ownership of the family business
after his Father died the previous year.
Over the course of the next few months I teased him something awful
about his request. Every opportunity I got, I waved my femininity in
his face. I took him shopping with me then each time suddenly
remembered that I needed something new in the way of intimate apparel.
It was during one of these expeditions, when I judged he was most taken
by a bra and panty set in a Victoria's Secret store when I gave him a
deal.
"You see these lovely feminine clothes Mike?" I told him. "I'll help
you wear them if you agree to me having my dream of going to bed with
another man fulfilled."
I knew that he had been getting excited, looking at all the lacy undies,
but I was confident that there was no way he would agree.
"I'll help you with a make over and we could spend the weekend as
girlfriends." I knew that I was pushing it, but there was no way my
husband would agree to such a deal. He didn't. I had won.
I suppose that if I'd left it at that our lives would have continued as
they always had. We had a good sex life, we both admitted that, but I
had to push it all the time.
"Don't you wish you were wearing these stockings Michelle?" I would ask
him as I slid them up my legs before going out for a meal.
I don't know why I kept on. I knew it upset him. I suppose I just
wanted to see how far I could push him. When I stopped getting a
response I pushed further.
One evening we were getting ready to go out to his sister's birthday
party. It was to be held in the best hotel/restaurant in town and I
bought a really sexy basque to wear under a strapless evening gown. I
stood in front of him in just that, a pair of sheer black seemed
stockings, four inch heeled black patent heeled shoes and a pair of lacy
French knickers.
"You could fulfil your dream of wearing these if I could fulfil mine of
going to bed with another man."
He stared at me for as long as I would be prepared to stand there. I
knew it wasn't just me he was looking at. It was the clothes he was
lusting after just as much. I could see the torment in his mind and to
this day I can't understand why I did this to the man I undoubtedly
loved. I can only remember that at the time I was mad that he could be
such a pansy. Then I had the biggest shock of my life.
"I agree," he said.
"What?" I responded.
"You can have your dream if I can have mine."
Of course, looking back I now know that the urge of a transvestite to
dress is something that can't be resisted, at the time I could only
question how much he really loved me that he was prepared to give me
away.
"I go first," was the only thing I could think of to say.
Nothing more was said that night and as far as I can recall, once I had
a couple of drinks everything went well the rest of the evening. I
suppose I should note that Mike drove us home because he had been
teetotal for the last five years. He had overdone it one night at a
party, the year before we married and allowed another student, a girl,
to drive his car and some of her friends back to the University
accommodation. What he hadn't realised was that she had even more to
drink than him and while he was still enjoying himself, she drove on the
wrong side of the road into an oncoming truck, killing herself an her
three passengers.
He hadn't touched alcohol since.
The following weekend, on Saturday morning, an old boyfriend of mine,
Wesley phoned. We had dated a few times years ago and while I hadn't
stayed in touch, he was a friend of Mike's sister's husband so we had
bumped into each other at the birthday party. I had danced with him and
he had registered that all was not well between Mike and myself. He had
added two and two and made five, so gave me a call on the off chance. I
suppose it was a hangover of my annoyance with Mike that I invited him
over for dinner that evening.
Mike had been out shopping, it was him that did most of the real
cooking, I tended towards ready meals, so he shopped accordingly. I
decided to do something sneaky.
"I'll tell you what Mike," I said when he got back and had put the
groceries away, "cook us a really romantic meal this evening and I'll
find you something suitable to wear to serve it, how's that?"
Of course he got my gist straight away, he was going to have his dream
come true and we were to have a romantic dinner. He knew nothing of my
conversation with Wes. He got busy on preparing the meal and I went
shopping.
By the middle of the afternoon I returned and he had done all what he
called the 'prepping' for the meal. I took him upstairs and had him
strip off.
"This is a depilatory cream and will get rid of all your nasty hair," I
told him, then after he had showered all that away I ran a bubble bath
for him which he loved.
He didn't much like that I fitted him with a corset, but I pointed out
to him that it gave him a nice narrow waist, even though it had to be
tightened quite severely. I also gave him a padded panty girdle, to
round out his butt and some real looking falsies to give him the right
shape up top.
Apart from some discomfort I thought that he would love the costume I
bought him, so I was a little disappointed to hear that he really wanted
just to dress as a 'normal' woman. However, once I impressed on him
that this was what I wanted him to wear, he reluctantly acquiesced.
I was surprised at his reluctance, I had supposed he would want to look
as tarty as possible. The dress was a parody of a pink French maid's
uniform, too short and showed the little bit of cleavage he obtained
from the falsies, once they squeezed up the loose flesh on his chest by
tightening the cords on his corset, it showed over the top of the
blouse, looking like it was all him. It also took time for him to get
used to the four inch heeled shoes that I locked round his ankles,
although he didn't realise he was stuck with them on at the time.
I spent quite a bit of time doing his makeup, making sure he had
luscious red lips and heavy eyelashes and tweezered stray hairs from
under his eyebrows enough to narrow them quite a bit. In a fit of peak
I'd bought some long lasting makeup that I knew he wouldn't be able to
wash off without the proper remover pads and super glued false nails on
him, so he would be stuck with the whole effect until I gave him the
wherewithal to get it off. I back combed his hair which was long enough
to look quite feminine by the time I'd finished with it, especially with
the little beribboned cap pinned in place.
When I stood back and looked at him, I nearly called the whole thing
off. While the costume itself was ridiculous, his long stockinged legs
reaching up to a mass of crinoline and lace round his behind, he somehow
had an air of vulnerability about him that I wanted to hug. I loved
this man of mine, foibles and all, but I had to put a stop to this
nonsense for once and for all and this was the only way I could think to
do it.
I watched him mincing about, laying the table in the dining room and no
doubt thinking of the meal he thought he and I were going to share. He
completed the look of the table with a couple of candle sticks and the
main lights turned down low. I told him that for the evening his name
was Michelle.
The meal was due to be served at seven and at half past six I beat
Wesley to the doorbell and quietly let him in. I called out to the
kitchen.
"Michelle, bring out two gin and tonics please, into the sitting room."
Mike, full of enthusiasm to make me happy I suppose, now that he was
living his dream, came breezing in with the drinks and nearly collapsed
when he saw Wesley.
He had bought in the drinks on one of our little trays and now he served
it to us, even giving a little bob of a curtsey when he did so. When
the meal was ready he came and announced it, then served it impeccably
to the two of us. I decided to provoke him into stopping the charade.
"Michelle," I called, "make up the bed in the spare room, my guest will
be staying the night and you can use that. Your duties as my husband
are suspended until I say otherwise."
I watched the reaction of the two of them. Wes nearly choked himself on
the drink he was swallowing while Michelle looked as if I had just
passed a death sentence on him and was about to be sick. He turned
white as a sheet.
"This is your husband?" Wes finally managed to get out.
"Yes, this is Mike, but for this evening he is Michelle, don't you think
it suits him?"
Michelle stood there, not excused, but looking as if he was going to wet
himself.
"Come here Michelle," Wes ordered him. "Let me have a look at you.
Turn round, give me a twirl and a curtsey."
I hadn't intended for Wes to humiliate Mike this way, but I suppose that
after all the wine I had consumed I just thought it was what he
deserved. At any moment I expected him to blow his top and throw Wes
out, but it went on.
"Lift up your skirt and show me your knickers sissy," Wes demanded.
Amazingly he did as he was told. I couldn't get over it, I really
believed that my husband wanted to get off with my ex-boyfriend. It was
at that moment and only then that I decided to really teach Mike a
lesson that he wouldn't forget and never ask to dress up again. I took
Wes by the arm and guided him up the stairs behind me, calling that
Michelle should serve us brandies there.
My one thought was that this was our deal. He got to dress up and I got
to go to bed with another man. I might point out that in spite of
dating lots of boys before I married, it was Mike that took my virginity
on our wedding night, the way it should be and I was proud of it. Now
all thoughts of the right thing to do went right out of the window.
By the time Michelle brought up our glasses we were naked and in bed.
"Do you want to stay and watch Sissy?" Wes asked, quite cruelly.
In spite of that I waited with baited breath for the answer.
"I'd rather not Sir." Michelle curtseyed at the same time as replying.
"'I'd rather not Sir' have you ever heard such a wimp Lyn?" Wes was
getting into his stride, mimicking Michelle's reply and it was a side of
him that I remembered caused me to dump him.
This wasn't the time for that thought to prevail though and I just
remember giggling, I thought it so funny and I knew that at any minute
Mike would re-emerge and claim me as his.
"Go and get the rest of the bottle Sissy boy." Wes sneered and Michelle
took advantage and left the room hurriedly.
My ex then wasted no time in getting what I'd deprived him of all those
years ago.
I wish I could say it was worth it, but to be honest, Mike was better on
his worst night than Wes. He finished before I'd even got started,
rolled over, lit a cigarette even though he knew that I can't stand
smoking, and shouted out for Michelle to come back with the brandy
bottle.
When he finally returned with it, Michelle placed the bottle on the
bedside table that should have been his but was now Wes's and curtseyed
again.
"I will retire now Madam, if there's nothing else," he spoke very
quietly.
"No, there's nothing else, go to bed," I told him even though Wes was
trying to say that he might want another drink.
"We'll have bacon and eggs in bed, nine o'clock tomorrow morning," Wes
shouted after him, adding, "don't be late."
A little later my so called lover gave me what he described as 'another
seeing to', which was equally unsatisfactory from my point of view,
before he collapsed in a drunken haze. It had been creeping up on me
all evening, but by now I was certain that I regretted the whole sordid
episode. If only I could have turned the clock back.
I didn't sleep well that night. A couple of times I thought I heard
Michelle wandering about, but I didn't investigate. I got up about
eight and made myself a pot of coffee which I drank the entire contents,
sitting there, thinking what a mistake I'd made. I wondered if
Michelle's reality, at least until Wes arrived, had been anything like
his dreams. I did hope so and I determined to make it up to him. I sat
there thinking of all the worse things that Mike could do than wanting
to 'girly up' for a few hours, he had never refused me anything and I
realised how churlish I'd been not to at least find out more about his
desires.
By quarter past nine there was no sign of anyone stirring, so I went
back to the bedroom and got Wes out of bed.
"That was a great night Lyn, wasn't it?" He was full of himself. "When
can we do it again?"
"Never in my lifetime Wes," I replied, "you're an oaf and on top of that
lousy in bed, not a patch on my husband Now get out of my house."
I ushered him out as quickly as possible, all the time hearing him
mutter about not getting any breakfast, then went to hopefully apologise
and make up with my darling husband. It was only then that I saw the
note taped to his bedroom door.
My Darling Lyn
I'm sorry I've been such a disappointment to you. I can only tell you
that I've had this urge to dress up all my life. Until now I've been
able to control it, but I'm afraid that seeing the lovely things you
were wearing last week pushed me over the edge but I love you too much
to do anything behind your back.
I thought that perhaps I could persuade you to let me do this, in
private if necessary, but it's obvious that you can only have loathing
for it. No matter how much I promise and how much I mean it at the
time, I know that this will be with me all my life, you probably
discovered that from looking it up on the internet. There is no escape
from it for me, but I cannot bear to think that I would make you unhappy
as well.
I regret with all my heart that I made that deal with you. My dream
turned into a nightmare, I can only trust that yours was everything you
hoped for.
I'm sorry, I've tried to remove the make up, but there seems to be
something wrong with it, however much I have scrubbed it won't seem to
come off. I don't want you to see me like it, so the door is locked and
you will have to call the police to break it down, that way you don't
have to look. I won't suffer, I have enough of the painkillers left
from my accident so those, with some alcohol will allow me to drift off
to sleep.
Please try to remember just the good times we had and move on, with
Wesley if that's what you want,
I have loved you to death
Mike
As he had supposed the door was too strong for me to break down. I
called the police and fire service straight away but in the meantime got
a hammer from our garage but it only marginally splintered the wood
before help got to me.
I insisted on seeing him though. My poor, poor darling had scratched at
his face until it bled, trying to remove that damnable makeup but apart
from that he did look at peace, at least not having the haunted look
he'd had since Wesley's arrival. He was naked and at first sight there
was no sign of the clothes he had been wearing, I eventually found the
remains in the incinerator at the bottom of the garden, including the
shoes which he had cut off.
It was mentioned at his inquest that he'd filed down the false nails on
his fingers and cut off the varnish with a knife, but I hadn't noticed
that at the time. At the undertakers I had him dressed in my wedding
dress and made up to cover his injuries so at least he will forever rest
in the clothes he loved.
I'm quite well off now, although it means nothing without the love of my
life. I'm supporting several transgender clinics with the income from
the family business. If I was too stupid to help my own husband, at
least I may provide some support for others to be who they are.
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