Oh Sara!
Why were we playing this game? We both knew what she was doing. We both knew there were no girl friends in this evening's plans. But neither said it. It was pure sexual tension, and it was better off left unspoken, because it was driving us wild.
Sara took a slinky little black dress out of the closet, and slipped into it. Strappy heels completed her outfit.
"Well, the girls are expecting me at dinner soon," she smiled, motioning for us to leave the bedroom and walk downstairs. I followed behind her again. I don't think I had ever seen her so lovely, looking so sexy, smelling so divine.
"Wait, I almost forgot." She went to her dresser. She pulled out the chastity cage I had worn before and not seen since. "I want you to wear this tonight, Julie." She carefully locked the cage on me, placing my cock in a plastic prison. Why? Oh, Sara, my wicked Sara.
"There," she smiled, "just trust me, love, just trust me." Trust her. A funny play on words, I think.
When we reached the bottom of the stairs, Sara turned to me "Honey, I left my purse on the counter in the bathroom. Can you run and grab it for me?"
I turned without a word and walked back up to our bedroom and into the bathroom to get her purse. Through the room, I caught my reflection in the mirror of my dresser, saw the feminine reflection looking back, closed my eyes.
Her purse was open, and when I picked it up to snap it closed, my eyes were drawn to the item on top. A condom package. I almost dropped the purse. Bitch! Why was she doing this?
She did that on purpose, I know. One more way of telling me without telling me. To put me close to the edge.
A condom.
A condom, I thought, my hands shaking.
From fear. From anticipation. From excitement. From humiliation.
When I handed her purse to her, Sara smiled at me, held it up, "I can't very well go out without this, can I?"
Did she mean her purse or the condom? Or both? Did she mean her credit cards? Or the need for the condom? She was on the pill, I mean.
"What...if you had left it home, what would you do then," I asked, trembling, toeing the water of her punfilled innuendos.
She smiled. "Well, I suppose I'd just make do without," she smiled.
"W...w...without," I gulped.
"Sure, I don't really need it, do I?" The it was still unspoken. The it could mean her credit cards, or the condom. In all the fantasies I read on those web sites about cuckolding, husbands were so much more humiliated when their wives fucked a man bare back. That was the ultimate submission. I trembled thinking about it.
"N...n...no...I suppose not," I said.
"You are right, Jules, I don't really need it -- here, why don't you just put it back upstairs," she said, a loving look in her eyes, "it's better this way," she whispered.
My brain started screaming again, "NOOOOOOOO," as part of me pictured a naked cock pushing into her, seeking out her pussy, widening her, and finally, cumming in her. "NOOOOOOO, Sara, NOOOOOOO," it screamed.
But I reached out for the purse, anyway, and took it, and its precious contents, the little bit of protection, in my hands.
"Well, I'm off, love," she said, kissing my cheek, as to not ruin her make up.
"Sara..."
"I love you, John," she said, "don't ever forget that."
"Sara...I...are...I...I love you, too," I said, shaking.
"I'll...I'll probably be late," she said, lingering by the door. Was she having second thoughts too? Should one of us stop this? No, it had gone too far for that, way too far.
We both wanted this. Desperately.
With that, she opened the door, and walked out, car keys in hand, dressed as amazing as a woman could dress, classy, sexy, she walked out, of the house, into the night, to go find what was waiting for her out there.
Part 04
I looked out the window and watched my wife climb into her SUV, her dress riding up her thigh, to her stocking tops. I could not believe this was really happening.
Sure, she claimed to be going out with her girlfriends, but I knew better, and she knew better. She was going out, on a date, with a man. A 'real man' as she liked to say. Unlike me.
What could I expect? Honestly? She caught me months ago surfing all sorts of cuckold web sites.
She caught me looking at transvestite web sites.
She caught me looking at female domination web sites.
She easily got me into feminization, and I wore lingerie all the time, dresses at home.
I admitted over and over to her that I was not a real man, how could I not?
I looked down at my legs, slim, shapely, nylon clad, ending in heels. No wonder she wanted a man. Living with this, this thing she created, this creature, neither man nor woman, of course Sara must crave, desire, even need something more.
I knew she loved me. I knew we were soul mates.
I was her true love, my heart and soul, but I knew I had nothing masculine to give her. No, that was not quite true. What I had to give her, well, that's not what she wanted.
But, still, was I ready for this? To cross the line from fantasy to reality?
Could I take this? Could our marriage take this?
Or was it all a part of her subtle torment of me. Maybe she really was out with her girlfriends.
Yes, of course, she was playing with me, a cat toying with the mouse.
But the funny thing is, I'm not sure that thought comforted me. Sure, a part of me, the small masculine part, but there was more. There was this feminine side, and more importantly, this submissive side.
Fuck. The thought that she really might be out with her friends did not make me feel better, it almost made me feel worse. Fuck. I actually wanted her to be out with a man. That's how depraved my fantasy had become. A big part of me wanted it to be true.
But that was the rub, so to speak. While I was laying there, crying, my penis was as hard as it could get in the stupid cage. I was picturing Sara, on her back, in the lingerie I had bought her, panties thrown aside, legs spread, pulling some big stud into her pussy. Into my pussy. My tears flowed freely, but my cock got even harder, pressing on the sides of the cage. I wanted to run away. But I wanted to masturbate like crazy. And I knew I could do neither. I could not run and I could not play.
Sara had me trapped. Part of me hated it, and part of me was going wild.
By midnight, I had cried myself out. I got up and got ready for bed. Seeing myself in the mirror, breasts, wig, makeup, nails, that part that hated this wanted to rip it all off and throw it out the window. Part of me wanted to go to the store and buy some nice cotton underwear, men's underwear. To be a man again, to sit there, and wait for Sara and confront her. Fuck this. A small part of me wanted to throw out all the lingerie I had, to dress like a man, and act like a man. A man does not let his wife fuck around.
But there was that other part, that sexually driven part, that loved it. Loved Sara. Loved what she had done. The submissive part, I suppose, which was the bigger part, that only wanted to follow Sara anywhere.
That part was bigger. The feminine and submissive part was much stronger than the masculine and aggressive part. I was trapped.
So I did what that part demanded. I dressed for bed as a feminine thing, hoping to please my love, Sara when she got home from where ever she was, be it a date or simply out dancing..
Sara had a white merry widow with garter straps in her dresser. Taking a chance that she would not be angry if I borrowed it, I put it on, lifting my fake breasts into the cups. The panties that matched were too skimpy-not that my little cock did not fit into them, but the chastity cage itself was the problem, so I decided to forgo the panties. I did put on white stockings, gently, careful not to ruin hers with my nails, and heeled slippers. Finally, I took a white satin gown from Sara's closet. Wrapping myself in it, and seeing myself in the mirror, I shuddered. Fuck, in white, I looked like a bride on her wedding night, waiting for her groom.
In a way I suppose, subconsciously, tha
t is what I was, for this was truly a new beginning to our marriage.
I understood why she had put that stupid chastity cage on me. Without it, I would certainly be masturbating like crazy. I knew too, that if I did, that if I had an orgasm, I would lose my libido, and most likely, I would be pulled too hard to the small masculine part of me. I would find this too much, the lingerie, the waiting, the thought of what she was doing.
I'm sure that's why. She did it to protect me. It was not to punish me, but to protect me. Chastity not out of anger, but out of love.
SARA
I opened my eyes some time later, hearing a noise somewhere in the house. I had fallen asleep on the bed, on top of the covers. The candles I had lit in the bedroom made things seem like dreamlike. I tried to focus on the room, on where I was. You know how sometimes when you wake up you cannot figure out what is going on? That's how I felt, confused, dazed, not quite placing reality.
In walked Sara. Our eyes met. "Oh, Julie," she gushed, "oh my sweet, sweet lover."
"Sara," I croaked, "I..."
"Shhh, don't say anything, lover. Look at you, waiting for me.
Reality caught up in my head, and I started to shake.
"Sara......did..."
"Julie," she growled, "I said no talking."
Sara walked to the dresser, opened a drawer, and took something out. Walking over to me, she smiled, "I'm taking this off," she said, pointing to my cage, "but I don't want you to get too excited yet, so I want to get your hands out of the way. Do this." She motioned me to put my hands over my head, to the headboard.
I followed her request. No, that's not right. Her tone was not that of a request. I followed her command. In one of her hands she had a balled up pair of pantyhose, which she untangled and wrapped around my wrists and the headboard.
"Fuck," I though. I was shaking. I must be dreaming, I thought, pulling my arms. My arms, stretched above my head, immobile. Not tight, not cruel, she left me a little slack, but they were immobile.
She then unlocked the cage, carefully, gently, lovingly removing it. The release, the tension gone, emotion flooded through me. Sexually charged emotion.
"Sara, please, I have to know," I started, suddenly fearful, desperate to hear it from her own mouth. Needing confirmation of what she did. Was she still teasing me, slowly taking me farther down the road of shame? Or did she really do it, fuck a man. Was it tease or reality. I couldn't take it, I had to know.
"Shhhhh," she responded, stopping my confrontation of her, denying me the truth, denying me even an admission that something was amiss. Free from the cage, my cock immediately grew. Instinctively, an animal like hunger took over and my hands tugged on the pantyhose around them. I had to touch it. The sexual energy was flooding through me. My god, what had she done to me. She knew what she had done, the uncertainty drove me wild with lust. The thought that she fucked another man charged me much more than the confirmation ever could.
"Please, Sara," I whispered, struggling in the bondage.
She walked to the closet, stepped out of her dress, hung it up, cupping something in her hand. My god was she beautiful. She knelt by the foot of the bed, "my, my, look what got caught up in my web," she purred. "Look at the innocent fly, caught in the web of the deceitful spider. Struggle all you want, poor thing, but it only make you trapped even more." She was right. Like a bug in the web, struggling only tightened the bondage on my wrists, making my hands tighter, unable to escape.
She stuck out her tongue, and slowly ran it up my right leg. Starting at my toe, her tongue on the stocking, she purred as she licked my shin, my knee, my thigh.
"You taste soooo good, my little captive, just what I need. Look at you, lover. Bondage becomes you. Does my sissy like being tied up? Does she need a strong mistress in her life?"
"Saaarrrraaaa," I moaned, thrashing.
"Yes, lover, yes, my slave, yes," she said, taking my cock in her hands, "I know what you need, I know you need to surrender,
"Sara...oh," I moaned, " did you..."
"I said no talking, lover," she snapped, "there are other things I want from your mouth."
Sara continued her tongue's journey over my body, just past my free cock, looking it over. Her tongue darted out of her mouth, a quick lick on my cock, almost causing me to explode right then and there. But as quickly as she licked it, she moved on, working her way to my stomach, kissing her way up the merry widow, up my body.
Sara moved to straddle my body as she reached my chest, her stocking covered legs taking position on either side of my head. As she moved her torso up past my chest, the smell hit me for the first time.
Musk. Damp. Strong.
I thought back to her decision earlier, to leave her purse and her condom behind.
The smell. God, what was that smell? Her sweat? Simple dampness from sexual excitement? Or was it more. I remembered back to the fantasies I read on the web, of...of...the word...entered my brain, of creampies.
Was she doing this to me? What was inside her? Oh, God, I had to know.
"Sara, please" I moaned. I knew her smell. Was there something more? Was I projecting my fantasies onto her?
"Saaarrrraaa..."
I saw her sheer panties, damp, almost crusty. My brain quickly processed the information. The smell. The crust on the sheer crotch. No, I couldn't do this. The line was beyond my limits, her pussy, I loved, but no, not if she...not if inside her...
"No...Sara....please...don't."
I couldn't do this. It was too much. It was beyond my limits. I knew what she was going to do, how could I not know? How could I do this? How could she ask this? I clamped my mouth shut, she was way beyond my limits.
But she knew a way around this. I felt her reach behind her, her gentle fingers, her nails, slowly, lovingly, gently, wrapped around my cock. No. No. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair at all. I looked at her, our eyes met. We both knew I could not resist.
"Please Sara," I begged, weakly, "please."
She ignored me, moving herself up, hovering over my face. "Open you mouth, my sweet cuckold, open. This is my gift to you." Her fingers slowly stroked my cock.
Sara lowered herself to my face. Her pussy. And....no, it wasn't real. I knew she must be teasing me. She would not have gone this far without talking to me about it first, not this. She would not have fucked a man without getting permission. It was just too far beyond fantasy, a step that could not be taken back. Sure, I told myself, it was just her, nothing more.
But still, it might be more. It might be
"Open, lover, open."
I wanted to get up, to cry, to flee, to protest. But I was trapped. The spider really did capture her prey. Months led up to this very moment. I was feminized, tied to the bed, my head trapped between my wife's thighs. She was hovering, letting me smell her pussy through the panties. Smell the sexual heat, the dampness, the perspiration. I could see, too, and realized just how sheer the panties were. There may as well have been nothing between me and...
No. No. No. She would not have. She was teasing, I told myself.
"Open, lover," she purred, lowering herself to my mouth.
I opened, the panties coming in contact with my lips a split second before her pussy pushed them onto my tongue.
At the first taste, I thrashed, but Sara had anticipated, and drew her thighs tightly around my head, pushing her panties onto my mouth, holding them there, letting my saliva seep into the fabric, and back into my mouth. Her fingers tightened their grip on my cock, stroking. Her thighs trapped me, physically, her fingers trapped me, sexually. I had nowhere to go or hide.
It's just Sara.
I kept repeating that in my head.
It's just Sara.
A little voice hoped.
It will be over soon. I'm just licking my wife, I thought.
But it got worse. Or better. I didn't know which. With her free hand, Sara reached down, and pulled the sheer fabric to the side, letting her swollen pussy come to rest directly on my mo
uth.
I could not help myself. As much as it revolted me, it excited me that much more. I stuck my tongue out, into her pussy.
"Yessssssss," she moaned, rocking back and forth on my mouth, "deeper, deeper."
I was thrashing like crazy, hard, shocked, humiliated, excited, shamed.
"Ohhhh, lover, if you only knew how wonderful sex was with a man."
Oh, no. No. NO. NO!
It's just Sara, I repeated in head
"Sara," I mumbled, my tongue in her pussy, tasting her.
"How good a man's cock tastes, how it fills up my mouth."
"Sara, please," I begged, "what did you do," I mumbled, mouth to her pussy.
"Hmmm," she moaned, "How wonderful it is to have a man's cock in your pussy."
That almost pushed me over the edge of sanity, but she pushed me again.
"If you only knew how wonderful it is to have an orgasm when a man fucks you."
I could not believe what we were doing.
It's only Sara. It's only Sara.
Oh, please, my mind raced, don't tease me. Please don't tease me.
Please don't stop teasing me.
"How wonderful a man's hard, hot cock feels inside me," she growled.
I was literally going wild. If my hand were not bound to the bed, I would have been stroking myself like crazy. Still she pushed on. I was desperate to orgasm. I was desperate to bring her to orgasm.
She lowered her voice, "How wonderful it feels to have a man cum in my pussy," she moaned, driving herself down onto my tongue as I licked, fully aware now of what was going on.
"Saraaaaaa," I screamed, when she lifted herself up, and silenced when she pushed herself back down on me.
It's just Sara. She would not have done this, my loving wife, she would not have fucked a man. It's all a game.
It's all a game.
Fantasy. Yes, it's fantasy, I hoped and prayed. Wanting it to be real, all the same.
"Yesssss," she moaned, pushed over the edge or orgasm, pushed there by her evening, by her reaction to my humiliation, my submission. "Harder, now...taste it. Taste me. Taste him," she yelled.
A Change in Our Marriage - The Sissy Cuckold Page 11