Sister in law 1
- 1 year ago
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My Sister-in-law - Part 1 free porn video
My wife left me. It was a big shock. I hadn't seen it coming. She left a
brief note saying she was starting a new life and didn't want anything
from our past life. I could keep the house and everything in it.
Her younger sister, Ann, rang me a couple of days after it happened. "I'm
very sorry for you, Dee," she said. "I think my sister has treated you
very badly." She explained that Helen had been whisked off by a client
she had been dealing with at her employer's office. "He's very well off,
"explained Ann. "Got a yacht and a villa in the South of France." She
asked if I needed any help with anything - she'd always been very kind
and friendly. The thought struck me that perhaps I'd married the wrong
sister... But I thanked her for her call and said that I needed some time
to myself to sort out my life and decide what to do.
After she had rung off, I did start to wonder what to do next. Should I
stay in this house? Maybe Helen would want to come back after a brief
fling. Or should I sell everything and start a new life myself? I
realised that I was not in the position of being able to just stay at
home feeling sorry for myself, nor to be able to take an extended
holiday. I needed to keep my job in order to pay the mortgage on the
house. Starting a new life would have to be something I did a step at a
time.
The next weekend was a long one, as the Monday was a public holiday. I
had time to think. And to have a look round the house. When I opened
Helen's wardrobe, I was surprised to see most of her clothes were still
in it. The drawers in her dressing table were still full of her
underwear. There was make-up. And a blonde wig that she had worn
occasionally. And lots of shoes. I seemed to here her voice repeating
what was in her note. Whatever was in the house was mine now. These
things were mine. These were my clothes. My underwear.
I was breathing a bit faster. There was a sort of tenseness in my
stomach; a mixture of anticipation, excitement and, yes, fear. Fear of
breaking convention. Of even thinking about trying on clothes that men
were not supposed to wear. There was a slight tingling sensation in the
end of my cock. I started unbuttoning my shirt, almost without having
made a decision to do so. It was almost an automatic reaction; there was
a distinct feeling of inevitability...
I took my trousers off and immediately realised that my legs were hairy.
Not excessively so, but enough to be noticeable. Noticeable if I was
wearing a skirt, that is.
I went to the bathroom and ran a bath. A bubble bath. I used Helen's
razor to shave my legs. Oh, silly me. It's not Helen's razor, it's MY
razor. My ladies' razor. I shaved my lower legs and then my thighs and
bottom. And perhaps because it was a ladies' razor. it seemed quite
natural to shave off my male pubic hair. All around mu genital area and
especially my balls. And then (carefully) between the cheeks of my
bottom. I was now completely hairless below the waist. I looked down at
my chest. There wasn't a lot of hair there, but I removed it any way.
Especially around my nipples. I shaved my forearms. And then my
underarms. Somehow shaving this area seemed the most feminine action of
all.
Getting out of the bath I dried myself. The absence of body hair was
quite noticeable, not just visibly - the towel felt different on my
hairless body. And my balls felt soft and smooth and - well - feminine.
Although of course balls are not usually thought of as feminine. I put on
my wife's, no MY, bathrobe and went back into the bedroom to select what
I should wear. I pulled open a drawer, more or less at random. On the
left were some bras, on the right suspender-belts. I picked up a bra and
tried to put it on. I put my arms through the shoulder straps and
reaching behind my back, tried to fasten the back strap. This proved too
difficult, so I tried a different way. I put the bra round my waist, back
to front, fastened the back, then turned the bra round and tried to lift
it up my chest. I soon realised that this would not be possible. The bra
was too small for me. What a disappointment!
I put it back in the drawer. I had a look to see if there was anything
else that might fit me. At first I thought there was nothing, but then I
noticed that there was a white bra at the back of the drawer that seemed
to have more rows of hooks and eyes on the back straps. I reached it out.
It was an old-fashioned style. I'd never seen my wife wear anything like
this. Perhaps it was her mother's? I vaguely remembered stories of how in
former times, brides would have a silver coin sewn into the bra they wore
on their wedding day. Perhaps it was a sort of heirloom? I had a look,
but couldn't find any sign of a silver coin, nor any evidence that there
had ever been anything sewn in. I put it on and found that by using the
last pairs of hooks and eyes that it fitted me perfectly. Well, apart
from the fact that the cups were empty as I had no breasts.
Still, I was very relieved. For a few moments I had thought that all my
efforts in the bathroom had been in vain. But now I felt much more
confident that I would be able to get dressed. In MY clothes.
I guessed that I might not find any of the suspender-belts to fit my
waist size. But now that the drawer was fully open I could see that there
was something in a package. Something that seemed to have a lot of laces.
I reached it out. There was a label on the package saying "waist waspie"
and an illustration of how to adjust the laces and tie them at the back.
The package had been opened. I guessed that the garment had been put back
into its package to keep the laces from getting tangled up with other
stuff in the drawer. I loosened the laces and put it round my waist,
fastening the hooks and eyes at the front. Then I started to pull the
laces. I breathed in and pulled the laces fairly tight, then tied the
laces in a bow behind my back, like in the picture on the package. The
waspie certainly gripped my waist and I guessed that my waist measurement
was now several inches less than it had been before.
I opened the drawer that I already knew was full of knickers. Helen
normally wore rather skimpy little panties, and there were plenty of
these in the drawer. But based on my previous discoveries I looked
towards the back of the drawer. Here I found some rather old-fashioned
pairs that I had never seen her wear. Waist-high, not bikini style. Silky
nylon, not cotton. I selected a pink pair with a couple of lace panels at
the sides and elasticated leg-holes. I put them on and they felt
deliciously sensual. Cool and soft on my bottom. Caressing and gently
supporting my cock and balls. The sensation was a real contrast to the
constriction of the waspie and the gentle but firm grip of my bras
straps. A distinctly erotic contrast. As I threaded the suspenders on the
restrictive waspie down through the leg-holes of my silky knickers my
erection got firmer and firmer.
I now realised that this style of knicker was perfect if one had a
throbbing erection. There was room for the cock to grow without escaping
from the silky embrace of the knickers. It was almost as if the feminine
garment was saying "I know you're a big boy, but I've got you covered. My
femininity is more than a match for your maleness."
Another drawer was full of stockings and pantie-hose. Several worn (and
washed) pairs were stored in individual plastic bags, but I decided to
put on a new pair of dark tan stockings. I opened the packet carefully
and removed the stockings. Remembering how I had watched my wife put her
stockings on, I put my thumbs in one and gathered the material into my
hands, before putting my toe in and carefully deploying the nylon
stocking up my legs. I fastened the three suspender clasps and then put
on the other stocking.
Standing up, I checked my appearance in the mirror. Framed between my
pink knickers and my dark stocking-tops, my hairless thighs looked creamy
white and - well - quite girly. Of course, the tent-pole in my knickers
was a bit of a give-away. I resisted the strong temptation to touch my
erection. I knew that my adventure could so easily come to a sticky messy
climax before I had finished dressing. My bra didn't look right with
empty cups, so I padded them out with Helen's skimpy panties. Yes these
were HER panties. Not the sort I needed. I would wear MY big knickers.
But I could still wear HER panties. In MY bra.
The bra looked and felt much nicer now that the cups were full. I had a
bust. When I put my hand in front of my face, my arm brushed my bust.
When I looked down I could see my bust. My twin peaks. In MY bra.
Now I looked in the wardrobe. Was there a dress I could fit into? Most of
them looked too small for me, but there was one that I thought might fit
because it was in a stretchy sort of material. I unfastened the long back
zip and stepped into it, being careful to avoid catching my stockings on
the zip. I put my arms into the sleeves and then struggled to fasten the
zip. This took some time. I had to manoeuvre the dress up and down a bit
so that I could fasten the zip behind my back a section at a time.
Finally I had it fastened.
I looked in the mirror again. The dress was bright red with black trim at
the neck. The stretchy material clung to my bust and waist, but the skirt
was quite flared. And very short. The dress was obviously not intended to
be worn with stockings!. My stocking-tops were partly visible. I guessed
that if I leant forward I would display some bare thigh at the back. And
if I twirled around quickly, the skirt might rise up and show off my
knickers. I tried it. It did.
The knowledge that I was wearing a tiny skirt that could so easily
display my silky pink knickers was very stimulating. Especially when I
knew that my pretty underwear contained a very obvious bulge.
I wondered if there would be any shoes to fit me. I did have quite dainty
feet. For a male. Most of the shoes were too tight, mostly too narrow.
But I found a pair of black shoes with straps that I could adjust to the
maximum length. Each shoe had a strap across the top of the foot and
another above the ankle that fastened around the front of my leg. So once
fastened there was no danger of them falling off! They had heels that
were about two and a half inches high. I had never worn high heels and
was amazed at the effect on the shape of my legs. I could feel that my
bum was sticking out more as well.
I walked around the room to get used to my new heels. There was a little
swishing sound as my stockings rubbed together with each step. And there
was a change in the tension of each of my stocking-tops as the suspenders
stretched and relaxed as my legs moved. My suspender-belt gripped my
waist firmly, contrasting with the way my soft silky knickers caressed my
bottom and gently supported my hairless balls and stiff cock. I could
feel the filled cups of my bra around my nipples and the way my bra-
straps gripped my shoulders and around my back, not tightly, but
insistently reminding me that I was wearing a bra. The one thing I
couldn't really feel was my skirt. It seemed as though it wasn't there
and that my knickers and stocking-tops and suspenders were on full view.
When I checked again in the mirror I could see that my skirt did actually
conceal my knickers. Just about. If I didn't move much.
I began to feel hungry and suddenly realised that it was starting to get
dark. I had lost all sense of time and how long I had been upstairs. I
put the light on before attempting to go downstairs wearing heels for the
first time. I went down very slowly, holding on to the handrail. I was
about five steps from the bottom when the doorbell rang.
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