Apre moi le deluge aka Chrissie
- 3 years ago
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The Road To Chrissie free porn video
Who would ever have thought that something as simple as a domestic apron
could lead to so many changes in a marriage. It had been the last thing
on my mind that evening 12 months ago when I'd asked Chris to help me in
the kitchen. We'd entertained two other couples to dinner and now they'd
left, all that remained was the huge pile of washing up and cleaning up.
When Chris declined saying he was wearing one of his best shirts I'd
tied him into one of my aprons. Well it was more a pinafore than the
normal style of apron and it might have been slightly feminine with it
floral print fabric, the ruffled shoulder straps and an indecent amount
of lace trim. When he complained about the style, I replied that since
he was worried about his best shirt, he needed a pinafore style apron to
protect it and this was the only one I had, which was not quiet true.
We worked steadily, he washing and me drying and putting things away He
complained at one point about why we weren't using the dishwasher and I
reminded him that he was the one who'd put off having it repaired. At
the time telling me that a little bit of washing up never did anyone
harm. Not that he would know since he almost never helped with that
process.
As we moved around the kitchen at one point I brushed up against him, I
felt his erection through the skirt of his apron. To say that I was
surprised would have been an understatement. Was my macho hubby getting
excited by doing the washing up, hardly likely I thought. That led me to
the conclusion that he was turned on by wearing something feminine, the
pinafore. Deciding to test this theory, I brought out the matching
headscarf that had come with the pinafore. Telling him that he needed
something to keep his hair out of his eyes I placed it on his head and
tied it at the back tucking his hair neatly beneath it. I thought he
might have offered some resistance but he just meekly allowed me to do
this to him.
There was no need for me to brush against him this time as he saw his
reflection in the window. The front of his pinafore was definitely
tented out. Was my little man interested in being a little woman at
times, certainly he was stimulated by wearing the pinafore. With its
full bodice and wide almost wrap around skirt, it did look very much
like a dress and a very pretty dress at that. Did he see himself in a
dress, I wondered.
Now 10 years into married life there was no doubt that some of the
initial enthusiasm in the bedroom had waned and hubby was finding it
harder to get it, well harder. I was beginning to feel deprived, sex had
always been something I'd enjoyed. These days, not so much as he was in
and out before I was even half way towards an decent orgasm. Was this
apparent interest in women's clothing, something that I could use to
improve our sex life, well in fact my sex life.
Telling him that I was feeling a little tired and needed to sit down for
a while, I asked him if he minded finishing off in the kitchen. He
quickly agreed that he would, something almost unheard of around here.
Was he in fact enjoying being put into women's clothing and what he'd
always referred to as "womens work." I decided that this was something
that I would need to follow up on. Getting him to share the household
duties would be great and perhaps I could manipulate him into taking on
most of those duties.
That night as we lay in bed I reached over and touched him, his penis
was soft and limp, he hardly responded to my touch, unlike the times
when the gentlest of contacts would result in a raging erection. Was it
time to test my new theory, the gently snoring signalled that this was
not the night, but I would pursue this further and soon.
I was laying in bed eagerly awaiting my sweet hubby who was in the
bathroom readying himself for bed. The door slowly opened and he
emerged, I gasped, his hair was now bleached blonde and permed into
tight curls with a pink bow pinned to the top of his head. He wore a
translucent pale pink negligee that reached down to just above his
knees. Underneath was a matching baby doll style nightie. Pink lace
stockings were clipped to the six suspenders that hung down below the
nightie. His face had been made up with bright red lipstick, his cheeks
rouged and his eyelids shaded with a bright blue. Thick black mascara
coated his long eyelashes while his eyes were outlined with a black
eyeliner. He sashayed towards me on fluffy slipons with a 3 inch heel.
As he reached the bed he held out a large pink strap on and said I am
ready.
The climax was wonderful, then suddenly I was awake, hubby continued
with his not so gently snoring and I removed my hand from my now very
damp pussy. Just dreaming about him in pink nightie had resulted in my
having a great orgasm. What would it be like in the flesh, I felt it
would be even better.
Being Sunday he would be heading off to spend the days with his friends
playing golf and then socialising well into the evening. For me the day
would be spent engaged in all those tasks necessary to maintain a home.
When I'd once told him that I felt just like a maid and asked if perhaps
I should buy myself an appropriate uniform, he'd just nodded and told
me, "As you wish dearest."
Now on my knees scrubbing bathroom floors I imagined a scenario where he
was in my place, dressed in one of those exotic French Maid outfits with
his backside covered by a pair of those ruffled white panties visible as
he scrubbed the floors. I could be spending my Sundays with my friends,
perhaps a day at the Spa or just having a quiet lunch at one of the
pubs. Arriving home to find the house immaculate as my little maid
stands at the door with a glass of chilled white wine. I must confess I
found such thoughts most stimulating and my hand was soon under my track
pants and massaging my pussy.
Over the next few days I spent a great deal of time considering my
options and questioning just why was I getting so excited about putting
my husband into women's clothing. Raised in a very traditional home by
very traditional parents I grew up with the notion that the wife's place
in a marriage was beside her husband and supporting his needs. For years
I'd allowed him to make all the decisions and even when my opinion had
been sought, he still did what he wanted. He chose where we would live,
decided how the house would be furnished and decorated. He would decide
where we would go for a night out or what show we would go to see and
while I often was happy with his choices, I did resent that not once did
I get to make the choice. He also had a strong opinion on how I should
dress while not expressly forbidding my wearing of slacks he made it
clear that he felt skirts and dresses were more appropriate. He also did
not like me wearing plain underwear and any gifts were always overly
feminine in their nature. Stockings were preferred to tights and more
than once it had crossed my mind that he would be less enamoured of
them, if he had to wear them. Wearing pyjamas had provoked several
arguments and so I'd stuck to nighties for the sake of peace.
In the end I concluded that if he responded to being dressed in female
clothing, then some role reversal would follow. Let's see how you feel
having most decisions being made for you including what you should be
dressing in. Once this decision was made I could not wait to implement
my plan, which would be made easier by him being just slightly smaller
than I was meaning an entire wardrobe was ready and waiting for him. Not
the least was the drawer that contained much of the exotic lingerie that
he'd bought for me over the years. The thought of him in that red basque
he'd bought for me one Christmas sent a shiver through me as I wondered
how he'd feel as I snapped his suspenders.
The next Saturday when I returned from the weekly shopping I announced
that I'd bought a new apron and asked him for his opinion on it. The one
I'd put him in last weekend was, when compared with this new purchase,
quite plain. I held it up in front of him and watched closely. While he
feigned a lack of interest the swelling a the front of his pants told me
otherwise. When I asked if he would like to try it on he blushed,
something that I'd not seen him do before and muttered that I was just
being silly. The swelling grew larger, that's the thing with those soft
track pants they don't hide much. Then I asked him if he was afraid of
wearing an apron. He replied that of course he wasn't and I dropped it
over his head as he stood there still blushing furiously. Once I'd tied
the waist straps into a large bow I patted him on the backside and sent
him into the kitchen to make us some lunch. I was surprised at how easy
it had been to get him into the apron and that he offered no resistance
to being sent to prepare our lunch. Just in case he tried to remove the
apron, I'd taken the precaution of tying a second knot making it all but
impossible for him to untie himself.
Since it was such a gorgeous day, I decided we would eat lunch on the
patio. Opening up the French doors I walked outside. While it was mostly
private, the patio could be seen from the upper floors of some of the
adjoining properties. He would not be impressed with the possibility
that he might be seen by some of our neighbours, not something which
concerned me in any way. Shortly afterwards, he timidly emerged with
some place mats and cutlery. Once the table had been set, I suggested
that a glass of wine would compliment the meal, he agreed and scuttled
off to fetch two glasses.
When he returned he was clutching the glasses and a bottle of Sauvignon
Blanc in an ice bucket. He was nervously glancing around as he poured
out the wine and his lack of attention nearly saw him spill some. I told
him to relax and he answered that was easy for me to say, as he returned
to finish preparing our meal.
He's no Chef that's for certain but then its not that difficult to heat
up a pre-cooked Quiche and prepare a bowl of salad vegetables, adding a
bottled dressing to enhance the taste was also simple. And so we sat in
the afternoon sun sipping our wine and slowly eating our Quiche. His
apron remained firmly in place as I declined his request to untie it
pointing out that he'd still have to wear it as he cleaned up later. I
do think he was quite torn between being seen dressed as he was and the
obvious pleasure he was experiencing. It did seem my previously macho
husband had a softer more submissive side and I intended to exploit
that.
After we finished eating I complimented him on the meal and suggested
that he might like to do dinner for us this evening. At first he
declined claiming he had some work he needed to finish but when I
pressed him he backed down and agreed he would Bar-B-Que some steaks and
make another salad.
He seemed relieved to be back indoors so I left him to his chores and
headed into the study. It had always been "His" study something which
had annoyed me over the years as I was forced to use the dining room
table for any of the work I needed to carry out at home. I flicked on
the PC and did a search on "feminised." Oh my! I had no idea just how
many people seemed to be into this practice. Page after page of men in
all shapes and sizes wearing a diverse range of female clothing ranging
from everyday dresses to the most elaborate of wedding gowns. Some
looked very presentable, most looked slightly ridiculous and some looked
ghastly. I determined that I would not allow Chris to be some caricature
of a woman if I could not take him shopping with me, then we would not
take this any further. I still however, had first get him into dresses.
As I was browsing through the different pages he entered the room saying
he'd finished in the kitchen and could he take off the apron now.
Wanting to see how far I could push him, I asked if he could run the
vacuum cleaner around the house. He said he would do that but then asked
if wearing an apron was necessary when vacuuming. Most women do, I told
him, he replied that he wasn't a woman. "Really?" I'd answered.
By the time he'd finished it was time for coffee so he was sent off to
prepare afternoon tea which I had him serve on the patio. If it made him
uncomfortable then it was just too bad. As we sat there I commented on
the roses saying they looked really good and perhaps he should pick and
arrange a bunch to replace the ones that were looking somewhat tired.
When he'd asked if I meant right now I'd told him that he could leave it
until he'd washed up. And so shortly afterwards he was out in the garden
still ensconced in his apron and picking flowers. As he did so I was
adding to the collection of pictures I 'd taken that day, not that I
intended to use them to force him into anything, but then you never
know.
In the end he wore his apron for the rest of the afternoon as each time
he completed one task I'd find him another. I even upped the ante when
it came to doing the dusting as I insisted that he wore the matching
headscarf to keep any dust out of his hair. This time I added several
hair pins to make sure the scarf was secured as he worked. Even though
he protested that this was unnecessary he still stood meekly by as I
tied the scarf for him. To be honest I really didn't know how he felt
about being dressed as he was, but for me it was a major turn on, he
certainly wasn't fighting against it. Did a submissive soul lay under
that masculine shell, was he really seeking to be dominated, we would
soon find out.
-Chapter -2-
That evening we ate at the dining room table replete with our finest
china and best cutlery. A vase of red roses sat in the middle of the
table having been cut and arranged by him. Still dressed in apron and
headscarf he served the steak and salad along with a fine red from the
cellar. We followed up with fresh strawberries and clotted cream
surrounded by a strawberry liquor. We drank our coffee and liquor in the
sitting room and watched a chick flick. Then we drank some more wine.
Finally I sent him off to do the washing up and tidy the kitchen while I
went up to the bedroom and got ready for bed.
Forty five minutes later he entered the bedroom where I was laying back
propped up by several pillows and reading a book. I'd dressed in a very
pretty black silk nightdress, one I knew he loved to see me in. He came
and stood beside the bed with his back towards me indicating that I
should release him from his apron. I asked him was he sure he wanted to
take it off, I'd be alright if he wanted to sleep in it. He said he
didn't so I left it at that and quickly untied the bow and knot
releasing him from its embrace. He removed the head scarf and placed it
on the dressing table. I had him hang the pinafore beside the closet
where he could still see it. He slipped on a pair of boxer shorts and
climbed into bed with a sigh telling me it had been a long day and that
he was tired from all his exertions.
I turned off the lights and lay back. Neither of us spoke for a few
minutes, then I asked him if he had enjoyed his day. He didn't reply
straight away, then he told me that it had been different. Yes I said
but did you enjoy the experience. Again he paused for a short time, I
reached across and started to stroke his cock, it was totally flaccid.
Eventually he told me that he didn't know what he felt about his day,
part of him felt threatened, while other parts felt confused. Still
stroking him I asked what it felt like to wear a pretty pinafore and
scarf while he worked. The stiffening was immediate, although he denied
he experienced any pleasure from wearing such a blatantly feminine
garment. Would you like to wear it again tomorrow, I asked. Even as he
told me that he did not want to do that his cock stiffened even more.
Your little man seems to be disagreeing with you I told him. Again he
denied that he wanted to wear the pinafore again as I continued the
gently stroking. What if I told you that I want you to wear it and spend
the day doing chores around the house including cooking all the meals
for us. He grew even stiffer as he told me that wasn't about to to that.
I pulled off his boxers leaving him naked before spreading some of the
skirt of my nightdress over his lower parts and rubbing his cock through
it. Do you like my nightie, I asked him, his answer belied the fact that
he was now almost rigid.
Now I did something I'd never considered before, I rolled on top of him
taking the dominant position and taking his cock deep inside of me. He
was undoubtedly shocked by my action and started to say something,
however I placed my finger on his lips and told him to hush. Slowly I
began moving up and down squeezing him as I pulled away from him much
like milking a cow. Every so often he'd try and move with me and I'd
stop him, I would control our love making tonight, there would be no
slam bam thank you mam tonight.
The sense of being in control for the first time was exhilarating and
increased pleasure I drew from using him rather than he using me
enhanced my experience. He would not climax before I'd done so, but my
intention was that when he did it would be more satisfying than anything
he'd previously experience. If I could achieve that result then, he'd be
prepared to do anything to have more of the same.
I could sense that he was getting close now, he was taking short breaths
and uttering moans and sighs. The moment before he reached orgasm, I
stopped. He cried out and tried to continue but I held him firmly and
denied him any opportunity to carry on. You cannot imagine the sense of
power that I felt at that moment, the feeling I was now the dominant
partner in this act as he lay there and begged for more. Would he cancel
his golfing day out and stay home, I asked, yes he replied if that's
what it takes. I slowly resumed and he again utter a quiet moan. After a
few minutes he began to show signs that he was approaching a climax. I
stopped, he cried out in frustration and tried to continue. I was having
no of it as I held him down on the bed warning him that if tried that
again he'd get no more sex this evening. I asked him what he would do if
he stayed home tomorrow, he said he'd think of something. No need I'd
told him there are all the chores I normally do while your out enjoying
yourself. What if I don't want to do them he asked. Are you saying you
won't I asked, because if you don't agree then this ends now. Okay he
answered I'll do what you ask, does it mean I'll be wearing an apron
again. Would you prefer to I asked I'd not thought about that until you
mentioned it. I think he knew what the right answer was and agreed that
he should wear his pinafore and head scarf.
I took myself to my first orgasm and then stopped just as he was about
to reach his. Again he cried out in absolute frustration but he did not
move remaining passively on his back. I knew now that I would only truly
experience great orgasms when I was in control and the bedroom rules
would be changed for ever. My dream of the other night came back as I
started to bring him to another peak. Could I bring him to the point
where he would be the one who would dress in his prettiest nightgown and
negligee, spend ages getting his makeup just right and wear one of his
nicest perfumes in order to be sexual satisfied. As these thoughts
flittered through my mind I had an even more satisfying orgasm. I'd also
taken him with me and he now lay there gently sobbing. When I asked him
what was wrong he'd replied nothing it had been the most wonderful sex
he'd ever had. I smiled my job here was done for now.
Chapter -3-
We slept in late the next morning no doubt both recovering from our
night of love making. I kicked Chris out of bed first and sent him for a
shower, then as an after thought, I told him he should shave his legs.
When he queried my suggestion I simply told him that I'd prefer hairless
legs in future. Now he wasn't the hairiest of people by any means but
when he emerged from the bathroom some 30 minutes later it was
immediately obvious that he'd done as I requested. He donned a white T-
shirt and pulled on a pair plain white underpants before reaching for
his tracksuit bottom. Don't bother with those today I'd told him, I want
to see your legs they look so nice that covering them would just not be
right. But I'll feel exposed he answered. Don't worry the skirt of the
pinafore is full enough to pin closed at the back, it'll be a bit like
wearing a skirt but that's OK.
Once the pinafore was on and tied closed, I'd added a few safety pins
closing it off at the back as I'd said I would. With his head scarf tied
and pinned to his hair, I sent him off to prepare breakfast while I took
my shower. As he left I noticed he was wearing a pair of his sandals
they simply wouldn't do I thought and wondered if I had a suitable pair
in my closet.
When I went downstairs, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the
air. In the kitchen I could see he'd set two places at the breakfast bar
with two glasses of fresh orange juice at each place. I handed him a
pair of my sandals, they were a wedge shape with a moderate 2 inch heel.
I said I thought they would be more comfortable, his look suggested that
he disagreed with my assessment. Never the less he slipped them on and
looked quite surprised at the fit. He looked awkward for a few minutes
as he moved around, but seemed to adapt to them without much trouble.
When he served up our bacon and eggs on toast a few minutes later I
said, "Thanks Chrissie." He looked stunned for a moment as it sunk in,
but then he appeared to accept the feminisation of his name. In future
he might become Christina but at this stage I'd not made that call.
After breakfast I took the Sunday papers and retired to the study to
read them as he washed up. I'll be in my study I'd told him come and see
me when your finished. I wondered if he registered the change of
ownership. I did sit in the study and flick through the papers but my
mind was not really on the contents. I was elated with how things had
gone so far, his compliance with my wishes seemed to suggest that this
was something that he wanted. OK there were the token protests no one
wants to be seen as too easy but there'd been no serious resistance. I
felt that I had to proceed carefully, small steps, each drawing him
deeper into his new world and life. Today would be a whole new
experience for my new girl.
Shortly after he entered the study and informed me that he was done with
the kitchen and asked what was next. Sunday is washing day I told him
and sent him up to bedroom to bring down the hamper. Be careful carrying
it down the stairs remember your wearing heels now. Because we both
worked I'd only washed on Sundays and the result was always a very full
hamper. This would keep him occupied for a big slice of the morning.
In the laundry I showed him how to sort out the different fabrics and
colours from whites. Once the first load was in the machine I had him
hand wash all the delicates. He looked like he would be more comfortable
handling adders and at first was really tentative handling the garments.
I suspect that he was really embarassed as he careful scrubbed my
panties. You'll be even more embarassed when your wearing them, I mused.
Once he'd finished hand washing, I sent him out into the back garden to
hang them out on the clothes line. I'd explained in details how they
were to be pegged to the line He wasn't too happy about being outside
and the possibility of being observed, but was reassured when I told him
from a distance he'd look like just another woman. He loaded up the
second pile of clothes and then while that was washing, hung out the
first. When he returned I had him make coffee for morning break.
Sitting around with our cups he commented that he had no idea how much
work was involved just doing the laundry. Don't worry I told him there
will be the ironing this afternoon. I'd only done the bare minimum of
ironing in the past, I really didn't enjoy it, but for him there would
be much more. He would be warm ironing all the lingerie, things that had
never felt the touch of an iron previously. This would ensure he got the
maximum exposure to lingerie.
With coffee over, I set him the the task of cleaning the bathrooms and
toilets. As I watched him on hands and knees working away I again
thought of the image of him dressed in a maids uniform carrying out this
task. Several times he claimed the job was done, but each time my
inspection found the cleaning was not up to my standard. I might have
forgotten to tell him that standard had recently been revised, upward.
By the time he was done with this task it was nearing lunch time. I
would ensure that he had no time to sit down and relax today. Perhaps he
would begin to understand what I'd been dealing with over the last 10
years. All those years where I'd simply gone along with whatever he
wanted, always hoping that one day he would start considering how I
felt. The resentment had built up over time and now I'd found a way, I
would have my revenge. Don't get me wrong, I didn't want to hurt him, I
do love him, he just needs to learn what it was like for me and perhaps
become a better person in the long term. Last night we'd both had the
best sex ever thanks to the new dynamic. I could not return to the past
where he simply sated his desires often leaving me frustrated. He would
learn what it is like to be used and then left unsatisfied, that was
something I'd make sure he felt.
Lunch was again a simple meal, grilled chicken with a salad. While it
was perfectly acceptable, I could see he would need to develop his
culinary skills by spending more time in the kitchen. This worked well
for me as I intended that he would be fully occupied with his domestic
duties in future. Sunday golf days would be a thing of the past for
Chrissie.
The bulk of the afternoon was spent doing the ironing. He set up the
ironing board in the sitting room so I could supervise his efforts and
ensure he kept at it. Anything which could be ironed, was ironed and
neatly folded and stacked back in to a basket. At first I rejected
almost everything, in fact he was doing a very good job but I didn't
want him to know that just yet. I smiled as I watch him concentrate,
he'd often bite his lower lip as he worked. Later he would place
everything into the correct drawers, but only after sorting though all
my most intimate lingerie. My intention was to overload his senses with
his exposure to all these delicate, silky and lacy garments. I asked
question about various items he was handling, did he like the colour,
how did the fabric feel, how pretty did he think it was. We discussed
the various styles of bras, what style did he think would be most
comfortable, did he think plain bras preferable to the lacier ones. What
did he think would be better to wear, stockings or tights. We discussed
the difference between slips and petticoats, corsets and girdles even
the different styles of panties. At times I asked what he would chose to
wear and watched as he struggled to come up with an answer.
Late in the afternoon I set him the task of writing out what he'd learnt
during the day, describing how he would handle the washing and ironing
in future. What it took to properly clean bathrooms and toilets. How he
could organise his day to complete all the chores that needed to be
done.
That night when he'd finished cleaning up after dinner, I untied his
pinafore and removed his scarf allowing him to change into a pair of
track pants. For the next few days things would return to how they had
been around the house. I was however, already planning my next moves and
would introduce more changes on the coming weekend. One thing that would
not be returning to normal though, there would be no sex this week for
him. Next Friday night he'd sink deeper into the sea of feminity that
would eventually engulf him.
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