A Lesson For Cathy
- 4 years ago
- 25
- 0
Beginning Of The End: Becoming Cathy 2 free porn video
I guess it's the waiting that creates the space for me to rise to that
great height from which I Invariably fall, eventually, enevitbley,
crashing once again into a great pit of failure and humiliation. The
rising expectation, the mounting fear, The building hope, the
increasing trepidation, All fuelled by an ever-growing desperation
driven incessantly onward by that little knot Of truth buried deep
inside that, if ever allowed to erupt into reality, will alter the very
essence of how my place in this universe is perceived. Remember that
saying if a butterfly flaps its wings in Beijing it can cause a Tornado
in Texas? That little kernel of truth hidden way down low is my
butterfly...
The noise of the car door slamming suddenly drags me back into the land
of the living and the sane. I hear the sound of Wendys heels on the
stone flags as she walks across the drive towards the front door and
enters the house. As she climbs the stairs towards our bedroom I feel
the familiar stomach churning mix of excitement and fear rising inside.
The bedroom door opens and I see her silhouetted against the frame,
impossibly slim long legs accented by the Laboutin patent black court
heels she wore tonight. As the wonderfully delicate, feminine scent of
Frederic Malle Portrait of a Lady drifts across the room I see her
unzip her black sequinned Paula Knorr mini dress and delicately shimmy
out of it, leaving it discarded where it falls. Her black lace Agent
Provocateur bra quickly follows as her dexterous slim fingers expertly
unhook the clasp behind her back and it tumbles to the floor as soft
full breasts urgently release from their lace captor. Her ripe dark
nipples are stiffened with want as a rush of emotion savagely twists in
the pit of my stomach, lust? no, desire? possibly, jealousy? Don't go
there John, not now. An exaggerated lean forward signals the start of a
slow, sensuous slide down impossibly smooth, tanned, bare legs for the
whisp of black lace masquerading as her thong. The sheer, diaphanous
panties are erotically coaxed down to shapely calves and then
abandoned, left to float gently to the floor. A graceful step out of
the now redundant underwear seamlessly blends into a purposeful stride
towards the bed where I lie transfixed by this goddess and the
erotically seductive, and very deliberate, dance of the veils performed
for my benefit. In my head two simultaneous thoughts suddenly
illuminate: firstly ,OMG my wife is truly a beautiful goddess ' and
secondly 'Christ she really deserves so much more of a man than me
tonight''. she steps out of her heels and pulls the peach satin sheet
back, sliding menacingly across the bed to lie next to me. "I know
you're awake darling " she whispers, "I know you were watching every
second of my little performance so don't pretend otherwise sweety" her
face so close that I feel her warm, intoxicated breath caress my skin.
"You know what I need darling, I told you before I went out tonight
that I need you to fuck me, to have you inside me, to own me, to make
me feel like a woman again, like a wife". Her pink glossed lips find
mine as she kisses me gently but with an intense desire that causes me
to tremble. Her warm wet tongue slides into my mouth as the intensity
of the kiss rises. She gasps softly as my fingers carelessly brush her
erect swollen nipple os they explore her body in their inexorable
journey to find the heat of her sex. I reach the source of this
warmth, so hot, so wet, so inviting, so feminine, god I want one! Fuck
no, no, I meant I want her, yes, I want her, just a silly random
thought in the heat of moment I reason, yeah, that's what it was. My
focus returns and my fingers start to explore the folds of her soft,
yielding vagina, gliding over moist ridges and glistening valleys, not
yet penetrating but still eliciting soft breathy moans of satisfaction.
A sudden tremor off pleasure travels through her body as my fingers
ignite her already pulsating clitoris "oh god, yes darling please
yessss" She moans as she arches her back grinding her open sex ever
more vigorously against my probing fingers. I increase the pressure on
her errect Clitoris increasing the urgency of the small circles I'm
tracing over her quivering sweetness. "Oh fuck, yes, that's it baby,
that's it please don't stop, don't you dare stop" I don't stop. I
continue to agitate her stiff, pulsing button as she cascades towards
that glittering prize of female sexual pleasure. She is so close now,
on the edge, ready to release and completely surrender to her bodies
desperate demand for blissful orgasmic liberation. On the precipice.
needing just one more thing to push her over. My cock inside her.
"Fuck me, fuck me now please darling, I want you, I need it now, I want
it now" the pleading desperation in her voice giving clarity if any was
needed that achieving the ultimate pleasure she so craves, so needs, so
deserves is now solely dependent on my capacity to make love to this
sexually frenzied naked goddess begging me to do to her what any real
man would have lusted for from the first moment of this passion play.
Oh Fuck! I slowly slide my free hand down my body as I strive to
maintain my vigorous manipulation of Wendy's throbbing clit. My heart
feels like it's beating faster than a hummingbirds wings as my fingers
hesitantly approach my groin. I close my eyes, wishing for the
improbable but expecting the inevitable. My fingers edge to the fringe
of my thin, sparse, whispy pubic hair, stretch slowly further
downward....... and further downward still. I feel nothing, nothing but
the pubic hair and soft skin of my smooth groin. Nothing. Please,
please let there be something, let me have at least some trace of
masculinity that will mask the true nature of my humiliation, of my
self. I reach even further and my fingers eventually find the source of
this angst, nestled languidly, softly, timidly on small, smooth, soft
balls. At peace. I literally feel my whole body shrink with
humiliation, as if any masculinity that may be mistakingly hiding
somewhere within me has suddenly got the message and left as quickly as
it possibly could, leaving my physical being to diminish and move a
step closer to inevitable femininity. This embarrassing parody of a
male appendage will reveal the truth even if I'm to terrified to, the
naked truth, the soft, small, emasculated, effeminate brutal naked
truth. I can't fuck her, I never will be able to fuck her........I
don't even think I want to fuck her.
" I can't " almost imperceptibly words escape my lips. "Oh god yes
darling, please I'm so close, so close, just fuck me now, just give me
your cock sweety, please fuck me". I stop caressing her clit, "I can't
" same words, same meaning but this time heard. Her urgency disappears
instantly, almost as if a switch has been flicked. Off.
"You can't?, what do you mean...what do you mean?" not screamed, not
shouted, almost whispered but leaden with emotion. "What the hell do
you mean John ?" Pleading, desperate, frustrated but strangely absent
of any hint of anger or surprise. " I can't, I can't give you what you
want I'm.......I'm.....God Wendy, I just can't". "You can't what John?
say it, tell me, tell me what you can't do to me, what you can't give
me, I want to hear you say it, I want to...I need to hear the words".
" Please Wendy please please don't make me say it, I can't Wendy, I
can't" I hear my pitiful words in my own head and my self loathing
escalates to another level, what sort of husband, what sort of man am
I. The answer comes immediately. I'm not. I'm neither. What sort of
husband tortures his wife with his own shame, his own lies, his own
self delusions to avoid facing up to the truth? What sort of man
promises a woman the physical intimacy, the corporeal closeness, the
tangible representation of the love, desire and need for one another
knowing all the while he is incapable of doing so, worse, knowing that
he does really not want to? "I need to hear the words John
.....enough.....no more pretending". I hear her voice, a whispered
almost sympathetic tone that lands with the force of a wrecking ball
and finally breaks the fragile dam that has held back my self
delusion. My tears flow, my words follow. ' I can't fuck you Wendy, I
just can't. I can't get errect for you, god I can't get errect for any
woman, it's not just you, it's been the same with any woman I ever got
close to, god I wish it was different, with all my heart I wish it was
different because I love you, I love you more than I can ever express
but I just can't do it, please understand Wendy, please, it's not you,
god you are perfect, it's me, it's all women, I just don't
find......just can't ...oh fuck Wendy please, I don't want sex with
any woman, it just doesn't....excite me, it's not...it's not what turns
me on, it's not what I want....it's not what I want' ...... my words
taper out to nothing. Silence. 10 seconds probably but it feels like 10
hours. Finally she speaks 'I know....I've known......for so long"
almost murmured, hushed. "Go......get out of my bedroom John....sleep
in the spare room" I try to plead 'but Wendy" " just go John, go, now,
please". I slowly rise to my feet, I can't face her, I can't talk to
her, head lowered, eyes downcast, tears tumbling, I leave our bedroom,
her bedroom, and wonder, oh god, what have I just done.
Strange dreams haunt my fractured sleep. We are at a party or function
of some sort. I see Karen and Alan, chatting casually, happily, as they
both sip champagne. Karen looks fabulous in a very short Thornton
Bregazzi ruched gold sequinned dress and matching shimmering court
heels, her slim legs glistening in the sheer nude Woolford tights
softly caressing them. They seem physically close which I find amusing
given Karen's dissatisfaction with his ability to sexually satisfy her
and I stifle a little giggle by gently placing my fingers to my lips.
She sees me and waves, that feminine flutter of the fingers women find
so natural, while exaggeratedly mouthing hi. I return the gesture with
my beautifully manicured long french tipped nails fluttering, light
glistening off their clear lacquer coating. I turn slowly, scanning the
room, champagne flute held delicately in my other hand. I feel so
feminine, so much a woman, so much at peace. I see Wendy, looking
stunning in a Max Mara ivory Lambro blazer and matching Max Mara Artur
tailored narrow leg trousers, dark glossed manicured toe nails
highlighted against the ivory suit and patent white leather high heeled
Jimmy Choo strappy sandals she is wearing. She sees me and blows a kiss
which I reciprocate, she smiles and quickly returning her attention to
the man she is sitting so closely with. I recognise him as Cliff,
Wendy's CEO at the PR agency where Wendy is a Director. She giggles
flirtatiously and he leans across and kisses her on the lips. The kiss
lasts only a few seconds at most but it's meaning is clear to anyone
who witnessed it, we are a couple in love. Her gentle caress of his
face following the kiss makes the message even less ambiguous. I break
into a warm smile, I'm so happy for her, for them. She has finally
found love with a real man, one exuding masculinity from every pour,
one who can make feel every inch the beautiful and sensuous women she
is, and could never become while she was tied to a man, or at least
someone living the pretence of being a man, like me. And the fact that
he is gorgeous and hung like a stallion is a real bonus! Again I
giggle, but this time out loud and it's accompanied by a warm blush of
embarrassment (and if I'm honest a little shiver of lust). "And what
are you giggling about my princess?" The voice behind whispers in my
ear as two strong arms wrap round my waist pulling me close. I tilt my
head gently back and lean in to David, enjoying the soft kisses he
caresses my neck with, take in his natural masculine scent and the
aroma of his Aqua di Parma cologne, shiver at the feel of his stubble
on my soft smooth skin.......
Mmmmmm.....the divine scent of Frederic Malle Portrait of a Lady
drifts thru my senses, Wendy's perfume. I revel in the feel of David's
masculine warmth on my body as the pool of feminine bliss I'm bathing
in starts to ripple and my mind drifts to and fro searching for the
source of this heavenly bouquet...."We need to talk, can you get up
please, we need to talk about this, about all of this". My pool rapidly
empties as reality returns and thru bleary eyes I see her standing in
the doorway of our spare bedroom. Hair hanging loose, no make up,
dressed in ankle length pale blue tight leggings and a loose off the
shoulder bias cut white cotton All Saints t-shirt. God she's beautiful
is my first thought, my second thought is why the fuck do I check out
what she's wearing without even thinking? Stop John, no time for self
analysis now. "Ok, I'll get up now hun'. She's turned and gone before I
even finish the sentence....
Valentina
- 13.11.2022
- 12
- 0
