A Feminine Sense of Accomplishment
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A Feminine Sense Of Accomplishment Chapter 2 free porn video
Intro
Hi everyone, here's the next chapter... And believe me, I couldn't have
got this out if you hadn't left all those wonderful reviews for the first
chapter. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. All those comments were
amazing. Like I said, I'm new at this and I had no idea if my style or my
ideas would mean anything to anyone else. But I guess they do...Thank
you! Thank you! Thank you!
Like before, please please leave a review after you read this.
Again, lots of internal dialogue from our heroine in this chapter... so
it may be a bit slow to move along, apologies in advance. But the
anticipation, the waiting - does that not make it so much sweeter when it
fnally comes? LOL.
Enjoy!
Moonlily
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A Feminine Sense of Accomplishment Chapter 2
By Moonlily
"Please, honey, I want you to let me do this - I want your permission to
be your housewife."
Mike was looking at me, with pleading wet eyes. Oh God, please don't
start crying again Mike, I thought.
I had to say something. But for the life of me, I just didn't know what
to say. He expected me to give him permission to change everything in our
lives. More than that, he expected me to lead now, to have all the
answers, to tell him what to do. What did he expect? Did he really expect
that I would just suddenly morph into a confident masculine know it all
husband that he obviously didn't want to be anymore? How was I going to
do that? Did he think I had some magic wand to suddenly become a brow
beating, take charge, know it all, my way or the highway, fist pumping,
chest thumping MAN?
He certainly seemed comfortable enough to jump head first into a female
role and be my housewife but deep down I knew I wasn't ready to be a
husband to him - not yet anyway. However, I knew eventually.... Oh God, I
couldn't think straight. The enormity of everything that had transpired
this evening made it plain - we were both going down a one way street
here. I knew now with a sinking heart, that too much had been revealed,
too much had been said to go back now. We were on a path - and I was so
scared of where the path would lead.
I sat up straighter in my chair, just thinking. Going over and over what
I had finally understood. About Mike and what he was trying to do and
then I started coming to the incredible self realization of what I was
actually capable of and knowing now that what I thought was most
important for me in life was perhaps not actually that important. All my
life I wanted to be a devoted housewife.
But I was actually better than that. I was capable of so much more. I
understood the power that I had now. Giving up being a housewife was a no
brainer compared to being a powerful corporate SVP. I was no longer
chained to a role that I was expected to perform just because I was a
woman, no longer needed to endlessly worry about what to make for dinner,
or what to wear to be attractive every night, or to lie in bed trying to
remember if I had pressed that blue shirt Mike liked, or to worry about
whether my boobs were too small or whether my ass was too big. God, I
was excited now thinking about the possibilities. But I was also consumed
with self doubt. And I had to admit, I was frightened. Very frightened.
Could I really follow through in this lifestyle change? Could I really
keep going and striving for this masculine sense of accomplishment? Could
I really become stronger, more confident, more ambitious enough to take
it further? Afterall, last year, I was still Mike's devoted wife, happily
buzzing around my home, totally domesticated and completely devoted to
Mike, to support him so that he would achieve the same level of career
success that through twists of fate, I ended up receiving, not him...
Now, I was that success. I was the one who had become an SVP and Mike was
now the stay at home housewife to the powerful corporate executive.
There was now no way I could think of Mike as that strong, masculine man
anymore, not after what he had revealed to me this night. I realised with
a heavy heart, that all of what I had built up in my head, about Mike
being the man of the house was disintegrating. But still, I loved Mike,
even if he wanted to switch roles with me, to have me be the husband
while he the housewife...
Well not a housewife yet I guess, he was still waiting for my permission.
But that was something I did not understand - he had been keeping house
for me all this time since his job loss - all the cleaning, the cooking
and the laundry - why ask me for permission? Wasn't he already doing
this? Why formalize it in this way? What did that mean for him? Some sort
of submissive streak that I had missed? That he needed me to ALLOW him to
be a stay at home wife?
So many questions. I had to get time to think. And I had to control this
anger that was building inside me.
"Honey, Are you ok? Here have some water, Mike was saying, a worried look
on his face as he held my hand. "You are so pale...talk to me honey.." he
pleaded.
"I am ok" I said. I shook his hand off. "I AM OK", I repeated a bit
loudly and forcefully as I pushed Mike away. I saw Mike's eyes widen and
I immeditely felt sorry. I guess he was just as confused as I was. But
one thing for sure, all I felt like doing right now was to throw a good
old hyteric hissy fit. Yell, and scream as loud as I could, cry
hysterically and run out of the restaurant.
But I didn't do that. Enough drama for one night. "Mike, I have to think
and I need to go home . There's just too many things in my head right
now" I said. I stood up quietly, proud of myself that I was not screaming
and crying hysterically, and without waiting for him, I walked out of the
restaurant.
When we got back home, I went straight up to our bedroom, with Mike
silently following me. I kicked off my heels, then unzipped my dress,
letting it fall on the ground. Unhooked and peeled off my bra with a sigh
of relief and left that on the floor also. I was getting used to just
leaving my clothes strewn around. Rummaged around and finally found my
old oversized comfy ratty college sweatshirt in the back of the closet.
That sweatshirt had been my companion through many a dark night. No
glamour tonight world!, I thought silently. Sorry to disappoint you...
I knew that Mike wanted to talk but I was not ready. The jumble of
thoughts in my head needed some order. And I knew that there were things
I still needed to figure out - little nagging things in the back of my
head...
I mumbled to Mike that I had some work to catch up on and stumbled down
to Mike's old study. Weird, I still call it that even though I have been
using it as my home office for most of last year.. ah well. Just another
example of refusing to acknowledge reality.
I lay down on the couch in the study and closed my eyes. All that wine
was hurting my head.
So much information and so many questions, but questions I had to ask. My
internal dialogue was in overdrive, spinning thoughts into my head,
trying to get some clarity, so I just let the dialogue play out...
One thing for sure - I knew Mike was happier. I could see it and sense it
as much. I loved Mike, more than anything in the world and I knew him.
Well, no..., I guess I didn't know him that well ...did I? He never did
anything behind my back though - I was just blind to all the things that
he was doing right in front of my eyes.
I was so fixated on making Mike into my ideal vision of a strong man, a
masculine husband, going off to work and taking care of his wife at home
that I just didn't see how Mike had slowly taken over all the aspects of
running our home, how he was getting so much better at cooking, always
picking up after me, waiting for me with a warm dinner every night. And
also more than just that - I remember how every night, he would ask me
about my day and then just quietly listen to me unload all about what
happened at the office, laughing at my silly jokes and constantly telling
me how amazing I was. How over the last few weeks, I would wake up and
find my clothes hung up and ready to wear when I came out of my morning
shower. How he had even started shopping for my work wear - just some
pants and shirts - things I used to go and get for him when I had the
time.... How he had that one time driven 3 hours out of town to get me
those special chocolates I liked, just because I had casually mentioned
that I would love to have a box one night. I loved him so much.
Yes, he has been doing everything that a devoted wife would do to support
her husband. Actually, - so hard to admit this to myself, but yes, he was
being a better wife than me sometimes. And I think he knew it - that week
that I was away at Ardmen - that was the week when it seemed he had
really committed himself to being a housewife. Every room squeeky clean,
every toilet spotless, beds made, all my clothes neatly hung and put
away. All the groceries done, the meals just getting better and better -
he was learning how to cook dishes that he knew I would like - my
favourites. He was organizing his whole life around me now. Sure, I did
all that when I was in that role for him, but Mike seemed to have so much
more passion for it - he enjoyed it so much.
Yes, he definitely enjoyed it more than I ever did. It was so clear to me
now that he had completely immersed himself into the stay at home wifey
role and he was loving it. As my wine drenched mind sorted through all
this, I heard his voice in my head - something he had said earlier - "
...I want to dress up when you come home - make myself attractive to you
every night so that you can relieve your job stress just like I used to"
That really bugged me - why did he point that out so much - about wanting
to dress up and make himself attractive to me when I came home? He knows
that was something special that I did as a woman for him. I did point out
that it was a such a feminine thing to do - only a woman could go through
that experience, and feel those feelings, but he didn't seem put off by
that - what was it that he had said... that he had thought about it...?
Was that why he didn't react the way I expected him to react when I made
those angry demeaning remarks? About how he would need to get as prettied
up as I did every night? How he needed to do all that if he really wanted
to understand how a woman feels? Any man would have been so embarrassed
to have his wife say that to him - and probably really angry - his male
ego would have been severly bruised. But no - Mike certainly wasn't angry
nor was he shocked when I had said that. I remember he had that look on
his face...
Which meant that he had thought about it ....oh my god he must have
actually entertained the thought of wearing a woman's dress. Oh Wow. Had
he really thought about that? Would he really wear a dress - that
incredibly feminine item that women wear when they want to show the world
how beautiful and attractive and desirable they are?
More than that - would he go though the whole feminine ritual to make
himself attractive and feel desirable? Would he put make up on? Coat his
lips with lipstick, line his eyes, brush on mascara? And oh God, would he
wear a sexy pretty bra and matching panties underneath that dress to make
himself feel seductive and desirable like I used to do? Would he really
go through such an intimately feminine experience to get dolled up to
welcome me back home every night? Would he really go that far to have
that experience - to become the sexy wife waiting for her husband to
come home ?
Well, that was the whole point for him right? - to get closer to these
ideal feminine experiences that had been denied him till now. He had
basically spelt it out as much to me. I suddenly also remembered what
Mike had said about why he was hand washing my bras and panties. He had
explained that earlier - that it was just a small way for him to get
closer to the way a woman would feel, that by doing a task that only a
woman would do, he could have a more intimate feminine experience. Which
made him feel like he was getting closer to having that feminine sense of
accomplishment which in turn made him happier and filled him with
purpose.
Why did I keep bringing this up? Why can't I stop thinking about this?
This was important - but why? What else was I missing here? I remembered
Mike that day when I confronted him about hand washing my lingerie. How
matter of fact he was, How much he knew about how to handle such things.
How confidently he discussed such a feminine topic. How unashamed he was.
Probably because he was so familiar with my bra and panties and other
lingerie. So familiar...
Oh God, yes of course - in a flash I knew what it was that I was missing
- what had been nagging me ever since I had found out but could not bring
myself to think about. I wondered now, how far Mike had gone to have that
feminine experience, of course he had touched and handled my lingerie -
he obviously was comfortable with my bras - so...what would be the next
step for him...?
Would he actually have... maybe.. just maybe...? No way - right?. A man
would never do that - right? But then again, Mike told me that he wanted
to know how I felt every day. I mean, think this through girl, I told
myself, slowly, one step at a time - Wouldn't that be the logical next
step? And I know how incredible I feel when I wear a sexy pretty bra. I
mean come on, wearing a bra is the ultimate expression of sensuality and
womanhood. And since he is constantly striving to have those ultimate
feminine experiences...,what better way to do that then...
Ok. Deep breaths. So...By wearing that most feminine article of clothing,
a woman's bra, wouldn't he get that ultimate female experience? But not
just any bra. My bra. His wife's bra. But not one of my everyday plain
jane bras. No, definitely one of the special ones. One of the expensive,
sexy bras I keep for very special occassions. The bras I get because they
scream feminity and sexiness, designed specifically to arouse a man but
more important to make a woman feel like a godesss when she wears it.
That would be the type of bra that I would take my time to put on, to
make an event of it and reveal in its sexiness as it caressed me. Think
about it. That would be the type of bra he would have been attracted
to..so that he could also recreate those special experiences that I had
by just going through the motions of adorning his body with it...
For a man, the simple act of just holding and feeling a woman's bra would
be an incredibly feminine experience . Everything would be completely
different to what Mike would have been used to till then. The softness
and sensuality of all the material that made up that bra, the sheer
beauty and delicacy of the lace adorning those cups, the embroidery on
them...combined with the rigidity of the support wires and the molding
that gave the bra cups that specific female shape. Such a direct
antithesis to any other garment he would have ever known.
So then if he did take that next step - everything - even the simplest
act that he would do to put that bra on would be an incredible expression
of feminity - something that no man would ever have experienced.. He
would have seen me to do this countless times, so all he would have done
was do what I would do...
Imagine it, step by step; He would have taken his time, because, just
like me, he would have wanted to savour every single feeling, every
tingle of arousal as he peformed each simple act... he would have slowly
slipped his arms through the bra straps and then carefully positioned the
cups over his chest, maybe even bending forward a little to make sure
that everything was exactly where they should be, just like I would....
and then when he stretched back and hooked those little hooks together
behind his back, I could imagine the waves of femininity that must have
washed over him at that moment when he felt that overall tightness of the
band around his chest, the straps on his shoulders and at the same time
the supportive comfort of the bra strap across his back.
What an incredible sensation that must have been, knowing that he, a man,
a husband was sharing such a deeply intimate experience with his wife. He
would have immediately felt everything that I would have felt - all the
feminity, the sexiness, the pure confirmation of womanhood.
Then looking down, feeling and seeing those pretty bra cups adorning his
chest, those gradual swells to an unmistakeably feminine shape, so
prettily trimmed in lace...maybe he brought his hands up to touch and cup
those bra cups - feeling that sensous fabric, feeling how they envelop
and shape his chest into beautiful shapely curvy mounds. Perhaps Mike
would have thought about how those same cups hold my breasts when I wear
it. Would he have felt an indescribable closeness to me at that moment -
sharing such an intimate sensation? Maybe he noticed that pretty little
satin bow nestled in the center. Perhaps he put his finger on that little
bow just to touch it and play with it... just like I always do...
Then of course, he would have adjusted those thin smooth shoulder straps
to make sure everything felt just right. Not too tight. Not too loose.
Then remembering how I did it, perhaps he put his hands on each side of
those cups and lifted them a bit - a slight inward and upward push and a
quick wiggle - just to make sure that they were holding him completely in
place.
And then maybe he would pause and admire himself in the mirror perhaps
turning slightly side to side, then turn and twist to look over his
shoulder to make sure the straps were straight and in place on his back.
And by doing so, to immediately recognise that oh so sexy image - that
view of a feminine sexy back with that classic pattern of bra straps...
Then back to the front again, just to take an extra moment to admire
that gorgeous bra shaping him, supporting him, transforming him...perhaps
he sighed softly when he felt at the same time both that unique sense of
confident feminine modesty and pure female sexiness - a sensation that
only a woman would ever know and feel.
That would have been the most feminine sense of accomplishment that he
would have ever known. It would have been an affirmation of everything
that he desired - what better way to get that close to me in such a deep
and sensual way then by wearing my very own bra? To know exactly how
feminine and desirable I felt everytime I slipped on that same sexy bra?
Wouldn't that be the closest that he could get to completely
understanding how I felt? Would he really do that? More importantly,
....has he done that already? And if he had, that meant that he and I
were connected at a level that I never would have known before. Oh my
God....How incredibly... romantic...
Deep breaths. Deeeeep breaths. My mind was spinning. My head was hurting
again. All this was way too much clarity for one night and way too much
for me to get a grip on. I was slipping into dreams, too tired to keep
the dialogue going. Swirling images of Mike smiling that shy smile, the
empty bottle of wine on the table, the week at Ardmen, the CEO talking to
me, telling me I was so great. congratulatory champagne at the office.
high fives all around. Jonas, my new secretary, always so eager to
please, asking me how I took my coffee at my desk, flashes of Mike in
the kitchen, humming some song while stirring a pot, Mike folding my
panties, Mike hanging up my dresses, Mike and I laughing together, some
old joke that didn't make sense, Mike sitting at my vanity looking into
my mirror... gorgeous long lustrous hair cascading down his back, his
lips red and shiny, eyes lined, thick eyelashes upturned with mascara for
that wide eyed innocent girly look...humming softly, a dreamy look on his
face, casually flipping his hair off his shoulder so that he could adjust
his bra straps, then reaching behind his back to hook on my pretty peach
balconette pushup bra with chantilly lace...
I slept. Fitful and restless but sleep nonetheless. Thankfully it was the
weekend so sleeping in was in order.
Late in the morning, I stumbled out of the study and made my way to the
kitchen. I was a sight to behold, but Mike looked...radiant? Nicely
dressed and well groomed. Of course he already had breakfast on the
table.
He saw me come in, smiled that shy smile of his and called out "Good
morning honey!".
He walked up with his arms up to give me a hug. I instinctively started
putting my hands around his neck like I always did, but before I could,
he had his arms around my neck resting them on my shoulders, so I ended
up with my hands around his waist. With his arms behind my neck, he
pressed his chest tightly to me, then he dropped his chin and slowly and
timidly he looked into my eyes and softly whispered "I love you".
It was not lost to me at all that this was a reversal of our usual
positions. He was doing the female hug, while I did the male hug. And he
wanted me to initiate the next step. I expected him to kiss me, but I
realised he was waiting for me to initiate it.
Ok...oh well... I guess it wouldn't hurt to take this role reversal thing
a bit further.. so I remembered what Mike used to do - and I loved it
when he did this to me.... I always felt it was super romantic and it
usually made me weak in the knees.
I looked him in the eyes, then gently tucked a strand of hair behind his
ear, then using one finger, I slowly lifted his chin then still looking
him in the eyes, I softly bit his bottom lip, then french kissed him hard
while simultaneously tightening my hold on his waist and pushing him
forward so that he was crushed against my chest. Then while I kissed him,
I put my hands on his butt, squeezing, cupping and fondling him gently
back there. I remember when Mike did this to me, I would just feel so
mushy and weak kneed (especially when he would fondle my ass) that I
would just let him explore my mouth with his tongue while I just hung on
to his neck and slowly brushed the back of his neck with my hand.
And that was exactly what Mike did, he remembered exactly what I did, he
sighed deeply, and just hung on to my neck, slowly exploring the back of
my neck with his hands while I almost deep throated him. I finally
stopped, but it took a few seconds for him to recover and when he finally
opened his eyes, he giggled and said "wow" before trying to pull away.
I held him tight a little longer just until he put his hands on both
sides of my cheek and gave me another kiss.
"Oh honey...let me go...the eggs are going to burn..." he squealed as I
squeezed him around the waist.
"I love you" I said. "I love you more" he replied before spinning away to
the stove, trying unsuccesfully to dodge the playful slap I gave his
bum..
I sat down and watched him at the stove. He was so natural and graceful
moving around the kitchen And he seemed he could not stop smiling. I had
never seen him this luminous before. Almost like he had blossomed
overnight. He chattered away about this and that - nothing important
while he poured my coffee and served me my eggs just the way I like them.
The eggs were so delicious - I saw that he had blended in goat cheese and
fresh basil and finely chopped mushrooms into them. Wish I had thought of
that when I used to make eggs... Oh for goodness sake...why was I feeling
this way? Could I really be jealous that my husband was a better
housewife than I?
I wondered when he would ask me about last night - but it seemed that he
wasn't going to.
Didn't he want to talk anymore? I thought that he would be dying to see
if I had made a decision yet... weird...but all this was suddenly so
familiar...Then I understood - of course - I knew what was happening -
this was exactly what I would do in the mornings if Mike had had a long
bad night.
Back when I was the dutiful housewife, I always made sure I didn't
disturb Mike when he slept late, but would always have breakfast ready
when he finally woke up. I would always be up early to put on a pretty
dress -usually a sun dress in a flowery print - Mike liked those. With
heels of course. I would take my time with my hair and makeup - I wanted
to be as pretty and girly as possible. I would serve him his coffee and
his eggs just the way he liked them.
I never asked him about his night - nor about when he got home, the last
thing I ever wanted to be was one of those nagging wives. Instead, I
would talk about how sunny it was today, and tell him about that funny
chipmunk running around the yard or ask him if if he liked my pretty new
dress. I bought it just for you, didn't you notice? I would say, while
sticking my hips out in a girlish pose, giggling and giving him a quick
peck before darting off....
Memories...
And now here we were. Everything nearly the same except that Mike was the
one skipping around the kitchen pouring the coffee and serving the eggs,
looking fresh and vibrant and vivacious while I ate, silent, hungover,
braless, wearing a ratty old sweatshirt.
I watched Mike as he flitted happily around the kitchen, coming back to
top off my coffee then asking whether I would like more toast...God, he
was positively glowing and he did this role so well - I could see that
now. And I was getting...aroused...
I mean, this was weird right - I certainly didn't feel sexy or desirable
right now, but watching Mike...his effervesence.. My god all I wanted to
do was jump him right now...
A naughty, very naughty idea started creeping up from the depths of my
little brain...I wonder... Could I? Should I go through with it? It would
change everything... but maybe it was time...
I got up, grabbed Mike by the hand and led him up to our bedroom. Then
straight to the chest of drawers where my lingerie was kept. I opened the
special drawer - the one where all my sexiest prettiest bras were stored.
I slowly brushed my fingers over the pretty bra's nestled in there...so
many intimate memories from each one... now which one would it be?
Then I turned and looked straight at Mike. "Pick one" I said, gesturing
to the display.
To be continued....
Alma
- 30.11.2022
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