She now stopped stroking, and just held me. "Do you want me to fuck them?"
"Oh, Sara, please, don't stop."
"Do you want me to fuck them," she repeated herself.
"Yes....yes!"
Instead of stroking, she knelt down in front of me, and took my cock into her mouth. I almost fell over as the warmth of her mouth surrounded my cock. Looking up at me, she asked final questions. "Do you want a real man to fuck me and cum in my pussy? Do you want a real cock inside me, filling me with cum while you sit at home in your pretty lingerie?
I shook. I shuddered. I jumped. "Yes, Sara, yes...please...don't stop...please."
"Hmmm," she moaned, "it's so small; it's so easy to get it all in my mouth."
"Ohhhhhhh," I shuddered, quickly going towards the edge, blood rushing though my body. "Sara, I..." I said, trying to pull back, knowing she did not like me ever cumming in her mouth. But she ignored me, sucking harder, pushing me closer.
"Yes," she mumbled, cock in her mouth, "yes, my sissy wants lingerie, wants a bra and panties, wants a real man to fuck me, and wants him to cum in my pussy."
"Saaaaarrrrrrrraaaaaaa," I screamed, releasing, pushed too far. Sara clamped her mouth on my cock, taking it, my cum, holding it, holding me. We were one.
As I shook, shuddered, I felt weak. Sara quickly let go of my cock, pushed me back onto the bed, on my back. She climbed on top of me, her soft skin pressing onto mine, and I felt her heat, wet, damp, her pussy on my cock, opening up, pulling me into her. I was still in the depths of my orgasm, not yet down from the mountain. Her warmth pushed me back up, the lingering orgasm still inside me.
Sara planted her mouth on mine, and I was still hungry for sexual contact, a baby bird, I opened my mouth. In my mind, I expected the taste on her breath and mouth, but I was still surprised when her hungry mouth found mine, when her kiss took hold.
Of course, of course. It was not just the smell or lingering taste. It was the cum. She never swallowed. As her mouth and tongue found mine, she released it. Could I scream? Oh, no, because her pussy, so warm, so soft, so inviting, was on me, still keeping me on the mountain of my orgasm. So I took it, the gift, and we shared, our tongues finding one another, mixing, her saliva, my saliva, my cum, in our mouths. The taste was amazing, because it was revolting and exciting at the same time. I was so hungry for her, I took it, even enjoyed it, and swallowed. My own cum. I swallowed and shuddered.
Slowly, I came down from the mountain. I felt myself shrinking inside her, I felt my breathing return to normal. Sara nuzzled her head in my chest. "That's what I forgot, lover, and I'm sorry. I forgot that you need that to enjoy this. I can't lock your cock up in chastity because you need the sexual stimulation to help you accept the other things."
My mind was so shot, so blown away, so over stimulated, I could not even answer. But deep in my brain, I wondered...should I be scared that she knew this? Would she push me farther? Knowing how she could do it? She knew she had the power now, that my own little cock, would be the key to my own downfall.
I drifted off to sleep, still feeling the warmth of her pussy, scared even more now, because Sara understood all my weaknesses.
Waking up later, now late for work, I looked at Sara's head, nuzzled between the fake breasts on my chest, her pussy, still warm on my now shrunken cock.
"Sara," I whispered, worried about making it to work at some reasonable time. "Sara," I said more urgently, "get up, we have to get to work."
Slowly, she stirred, reluctantly. As she moved, my cock slipped from her pussy, causing me to shudder.
"Okay, okay," she said, rolling off me. "You shower first, I have to pack up my work stuff."
I sighed as she got up from the bed, stood up, and headed to the shower, but she called me back.
"Baby, as much as I would love to send you to the office with your breasts in place, I don't think you are quite ready for that yet, so let's get those off before you shower." Shit, one day with breasts, and they were already natural to me. She was right, no way would I go to work with these on me. I could not face people that way, even though I quickly got bummed, I did not want to lose my breasts.
Sara saw my frown, "Don't worry, dear, you can have them back when you get home."
After she used the solvent, and took off my breasts, I went to the shower and relaxed in the warm water. The feminine smell of the body wash, shampoo, and conditioner felt comforting to me.
Toweling off, I went back to the bedroom, to my dresser, opened my underwear drawer, saw it full of lingerie and frowned slightly.
"Forget about that?" Sara asked from the doorway. "Forget what you are already? Forget about the sweet unmentionables you will be wearing from now on, John?"
"Yes," I admitted.
"John. I think that's a part of the problem," she said, sitting on the bed.
"What is," I asked her.
"Come here," she smiled, "sit next to me."
I sat down, and she reached over, ran her fingernails over my chest, down my stomach. I shook, and part of me thought, "damn, she took this eroticism thing to heart."
"John. Your name. Identification as a man. Trying to pretend you are something you know you are not."
I felt myself stir, and it did not escape Sara's eye.
"Yes, that's right. A reminder that you are not much of a man makes you jump a little. I saw your cockette jump."
I felt myself growing still. Her words stung, but excited me too.
Smiling at me, she continued, "No, sweetie, your name, John, makes you think you are a man, when you know you are not. We have to change that. As we continue to strip away the remnants of your stupid masquerading as a man, we need to call you something else. I think I like something more feminine." Her fingernails were raking the skin between my belly button and my crotch. She was avoiding my growing cock, but she clearly knew she was the reason it was growing.
"Jasmine, perhaps? No, that sounds like a stripper. Maybe Joan? Not feminine enough. How about Julie? Yes, I think that is good for now, sweetie, Julie it is."
"Sara..."
"Say it, dear, my name is Julie." The back of her hand was touching my cock as I jumped. The sexual energy was starting to flow. I realized the irony of it.
Yes, the irony. The very thing that made me a man was breaking down the barriers to my becoming a woman. That sexual energy, that testosterone, that very manly thing, was actually helping Sara feminize me. She was actually using my masculinity against me!
"Sara, I..."
Sara turned her hand, taking my cock into her palm. "It looks like this likes the name."
It was really shocking to me. How could my own manhood do this? How could a woman use my own masculine sexual pulses to tear down those very pulses? They say the strongest martial arts are those that do not use brute force, but rather use an opponent's strength against him.
This is what Sara was doing. Some jujitsu, taking my strength, my manhood, and using it against me. Sara, intellectually, really was amazing, for she had undergone her own transformation. In a short time, she pivoted from trying to match me, strength for strength, to simply using my own strength to weaken me. How quickly she grasped that the way to take away my manhood was to use it against me.
"My name is Julie. Say that, please," she requested, stroking my cock for the second time that morning.
"My name is Julie," I whispered, the words another sting at my shrinking ego.
"Hi, Julie, I'm Sara," she smiled at me. "Now, Julie, lets find you something to wear, don't we? We need to find you some sexy lingerie to wear to work, don't we?"
She stroked slowly, "you want to wear lingerie to work, don't you?" "Yes, Sara, yes," I gasped.
"Pretty girls wear lingerie, don't they?"
"Ohhh, yes, Sara, yes."
"Are you a pretty girl, Julie?"
"Yes, yes, Sara, yes," I was coming unhinged.
"Of course, lover, of course." She slowed down her stroking of my cock. "Of course my pretty
lover wants to wear sexy lingerie."
The weird thing was that I could not cum. I wanted to, but it was too soon. I was recovered enough to get excited, but not enough to actually orgasm. Sara knew my habits. I'm sure she knew she could excite me, push me, but that there was no way I would hit the edge and go over. All she did was get sexual energy flowing through my body, and it stayed there, charging every fiber and nerve in me.
"We need something a bit more feminine than usual, being your first day like this. No cotton panties for you. Here, this will do nicely. You'll have to wear a tee shirt to hide the camisole, but this set will do beautifully under a suit." She handed me a white satin set, camisole, tap panties, garter belt, and stockings.
"Sara, I can't wear this," I said in horror.
"Excuse me," she said.
"I said I can't wear this to work."
She smiled at me, narrowing her eyes. "Oh, you can't?" I wanted to jump up, because I instinctively knew what was coming.
"Doesn't Julie want to wear the pretty lingerie," Sara smiled, running a single finger over the side of my cock.
"Sara, please, this is not fair," I said.
"But you do want to wear this, Julie, all girls like wearing pretty lingerie to work," she said, a second finger on the other side of my cock. "They love wearing sexy lingerie to work, knowing how feminine they will feel all day, the satin rubbing their skin. I know I do, knowing how all the men will look at me when I'm standing in front of them, giving a presentation."
"Please, Sara, it's too much," I gasped, terrified of the camisole and the garters, terrified I'd be seen, caught.
"Julie, trust me, you will feel so sexy, so soft, all day. The sexual energy will be all over you. And...Julie," she was stroking now, "I'll be thinking of you all day, just counting the hours until I can get my hands back on you."
It was too much. I wanted it so bad. She helped me dress in the lingerie, and worked to cover it with my man's clothing.
Predictably, the day was Hell. How was I supposed to concentrate on work? Every step, I felt the garters tug at my stockings. Sitting, the camisole rubbed my nipples, sore from the breasts, sensitivity heightened. Naturally, every trip to the bathroom, sitting in a stall, pants down, panties around my ankles, seeing my legs in stockings, I had to work to keep my erection down; this was crazy.
But amazing, too.
Around lunch, she called. She wanted to tease me again, telling me how sexy I was in my lingerie. She told me how she was thinking about me all morning, her sexy lover, her feminine husband, the prettiest girl in the office. "I'll be home waiting when you get home," she growled.
I don't think I stood up again all day. My erection never went down.
When I finally got home from work, I walked in the kitchen and found Sara sitting at the table. She was still dressed from work, in a skirt suit, the pretty, sexy businesswoman, and my eye was drawn to her legs. Deep down, I was always a leg man...or leg woman, I guess, and Sara's always drew my eyes.
Sara caught my eye, traveling up her leg, to her skirt, which was taut around her thighs. I notice a darker band, the top of her stocking, clearly visible when she sat down. It must have been like this all day.
"Yes, lover, men have been staring at me all day." I stirred. "One even asked me to go out for drinks after work." Her words slapped me. Not to the face, but to the groin. Not painful, but a shot of sexual force. "He was staring at me legs all day. I'm sure he pictured the tops of my stockings, my garter belt. I know he wanted to fuck me."
A moan escaped my lips as I dropped my briefcase, the sound startling me.
"But what could I do? Tell him that as much as I would have liked his big man cock inside me, today, this day, I wanted to rush home to my sissy feminine husband? That as much as I wanted his real cock, today, I wanted my little sissy cock more?"
I tore at her, her words were too much. We kissed, hands pawing at one another, stumbled into the living room, stripping each other as we moved. I easily got Sara out of her jacket and blouse, her soft breasts in her satin bra, staring at me, nuzzling them. She worked at my own shirt and jacket, my tie, finding my camisole, working on my trousers.
Taking off Sara's skirt, feeling her garter belt, I felt something missing. She was not wearing panties. Her mouth found my mouth. She gasped, sexually hungry. "I didn't wear panties, lover, I could have had his cock in me so quickly, but I wanted you tonight."
I was now naked, well, naked to my feminine lingerie. Our legs wrapped around each other, nylon leg on nylon leg. "I want you so badly, today, Julie, even more than his cock." We made love...no we had sex, more violently than usual, tearing at each other. I never felt more feminine in my life, yet never so sexually hungry.
I came for the second time that day. Inside her this time. Amazing. She worked on her own orgasm, after I was done, moving, wriggling her hip, till it hurt me, but I lay there, allowing it. It was the only way she could orgasm this way, manipulating her own body, using mine, not being fucked, but using me. It hurt. And I was never happier.
That day sealed my fate, I think. Sara adapted, learned, and used this to make me her feminine lover.
I had to learn. Lingerie became a 24/7 thing for me. Sara had insisted on it. Deep down, I wanted it too. As troubled and confused as I was, she had awakened a deep desire inside me. She knew it, and worked on it. Dressing for work in the morning was a routine for us. Sara would lay out lingerie for the day. Panties and pantyhose. Or panties, a garter belt and stockings. Maybe stay ups, without a garter belt. Tap panties and a camisole.
After my shower, before getting dressed, Sara would lead me to the bed, her choice for the day resting on the comforter. Next to a pair of my boxer shorts. "Which do you want, lover," she would ask me, "men's underwear or women's lingerie."
"Lingerie," I would answer, my body trembling from the humiliation, my cock hardening, her hand often manipulating me, pushing me. She used sexual tension to make me more feminine. My own strengths against me.
"Women's lingerie," she would correct me.
"Women's lingerie," I parroted back.
"Whose lingerie?"
"My...my lingerie," I would answer.
"Ask," she would command me, as if I actually had some choice in the matter.
"Please, Sara, may I wear my lingerie to the office today," I would ask.
She used it as an opportunity to tease me. "I don't know. Should you play dress up today, and wear these men's boxers, or should we dress you in your pretty lingerie?"
As if wearing boxers was playing dress up. Damn she could twist the knife. But that is how she always presented it. Lingerie was common, boxers were not.
Of course, it was always the lingerie. Never the boxers. Day after day, silk and satin were all that touched my body.
"Too bad you can't wear a bra to work, I'd love to send you to the office with breasts under your suit," she commented one morning, sending terror through me.
"Sara!"
But she knew how to push me here too. My little cock. Always using my cock against me. To torment me, when it was called for, and to use its sexual energy against me.
It was simply a matter of excitement, of the tease. She walked to me, a pair of her panties in her hand, and wrapped them around my soft cock. "What, does that scare you?"
"Please Sara, don't," I begged her, desperately wanting to step away from her, but at the same time, frozen in place.
She stroked me for a minute, before talking again. I wanted her to stop. "Wouldn't you like that, Julie? Don't you want to show off your breasts at the office," she whispered, stroking.
"Don't," I gasped.
"A nice silk blouse, just one too many buttons undone. Your bra showing. All the men staring at you, fucking you with their eyes. Your skirt, maybe just an inch too short. Not bad, but there you are, in the copy room, reaching to get something. One of your coworkers, comes by, and...accidentally bumps into your, his cock pressing against your ass. Would you respond? Should I have
? Did you wear stockings that day? Were you naughty? I didn't have panties on that day."
Her stroking was driving me insane.
"It would start with him staring at your tits early in the day, Julie. You want them, don't you? You want to wear a bra today?"
"Sara...Sara..."
"If you didn't wear panties that day, like I didn't, it would be so easy, just push back on him. When he 'bumps' you in the copy room, if you act like nothing happened, and pull away, he simply says he is sorry, and walks on, innocent enough. But if I pushed back, if I pressed my ass back onto him, he knows, he could have me. All because you wore a bra to work, Julie."
She was mixing me and her in the story. What a bitch. She knew exactly what she was doing.
"Want to wear a bra today, Julie?"
I didn't answer, afraid to. She continued. "All I had to do was push back, and he could have fucked me right there in the copy room. Oh, Julie, you don't know how bad I wanted his cock. I was so tempted, I wanted a man so badly that day. Soon, Julie, soon."
I was shaking uncontrollably. "Will you wear your breasts and a bra to work, Julie?"
"Yes, yes," I moaned, not even thinking what that meant.
As soon as the words left my mouth, she stopped stroking me. "My, my dear, the trouble this little cock of yours can get you into. Imagine what your boss would think. You are not wearing a bra, yet, sissy, now go get dressed. Just wait till Friday night, you'll get your breasts back, sweetie."
I knew then, if I did not before, that I was hers. Under her spell, under her control. Forever.
FIRST OF MANY FIRSTS
Laying in bed with Sara on Saturday morning, I shuddered as she kissed my neck, massaged my breasts. Our stocking encased legs rubbed together, sending electricity running through my body. She really was seducing me, drawing me deeper in to a feminine state.
"I got something for you," she whispered in my ear.
"What," I asked, my mind drifting back to my body.
"I bought you a present," she smiled, getting off the bed. She walked to the closet, her heeled slippers clicking on the wood floor. I was staring at her ass, visible through her sheer peignoir, framed by her garter belt. Identical to the one I was wearing. Yes, it had been an amazing Friday night.
A Change in Our Marriage - The Sissy Cuckold Page 8