A Change in Our Marriage - The Sissy Cuckold

by Sara Desmarais

  "And cum, Julie, you wanted that too? Accept?"

  "Yes," I said, walls breaking down, "yes."

  "Yes, Julie, yes, that's it, go ahead, realize and admit."

  "But I can't..."

  "Wait, Julie, wait. Deep down inside, you know it's something you want. Don't let it depress you. Just because you want it doesn't mean you are ready for it. In fact, part of your psyche is your submission. It's natural for a sissy to be submissive. Part of your desire is the desire to be humiliated, to submit."

  I knew this. Submitting to Sara was the yin and yang of my sexual needs. I wanted to do things, but even more I wanted to surrender. I wanted Sara to push me towards these things I could never ask for myself.

  "Go ahead, Sara, show her," Dr. Nelson said turning to my wife.

  "Julie, kiss the cock in your hands," Sara said, something they must have rehearsed. They were always ahead of me, ready for me, knowing what was coming.

  I gasped, her voice triggering a deep need in my head. I brought the cock slowly up to my mouth, gently kissed it, reverently.

  "And the other, Sara."

  "Julie, that's Steve's cock in your hands, the very cock that's been deep inside my pussy, places your little clitty has never been. Lick the head of Steve's cock, Julie, its the only way you can ever experience what its like deep inside me. Lick it, Julie, taste Steve's cock."

  I moaned, mentally transported far away from Dr. Nelson's office, my wife's sweet, commanding voice, driving me wild with lust, emotional and sexual. I did as told, of course. I imagined the silicone come to life as flesh, as a man's flesh, as Steve's flesh, the cock that had filled my wife.

  "And the reaction, Sara, look at her lap, see it?"

  I saw Sara's eyes follow Dr. Nelson's eyes to my lap, the tiny tent in my skirt, my own clitty finally responding.

  "The nurse could not get that reaction. You still can, Sara, but you'll notice the combination of your voice, the forced cock sucking, drives her wild. Doesn't it Julie?"

  "Yes, yes," I blurted out, cock head still in contact with my wet tongue, the humiliation driving me to the heights of sexual desire and frustration.

  "Sara, our time is about up for today. But you have some homework, both of you. First, let me step back to a friend as well as a doctor. You two must communicate. Talk these things out, take time, non sexually, to talk about this. Don't ever let miscommunication become a barrier to your relationship. Okay?"

  We both nodded.

  "Next, Julie, take that cock with you, put it in your purse. That's Steve's cock, okay? Remember that. When you look at it, touch it, feel it, anything. That's not a dildo, that's Steve's cock. Whatever Sara wants you to do with it, remember that...it's Steve's cock you are doing it to. I can't stress these two things enough -- communication between the two of you, and Julie, follow Sara's instructions. Finally, Sara, you know what we talked about. Go ahead, do what we've talked about."

  Dr. Nelson stood, our time was up. We did the same, Sara kissed Dr. Nelson on the cheek. They whispered something to one another, squeezed hands. I stood there, unsteady on my heels, spent and emotionally fucked up, but somehow wished for nothing more in life.

  I left Dr. Nelson's unsure if I felt better or worse. I think it was better, but I had some dread, too, and knew it. But I wanted that, didn't I? It's what I wanted.

  Shopping

  I had to go into the office the next day, for a meeting with the boss that I could not cover from home. I'd been trying to work more from home, to both allow me to stay dressed as Julie, and to avoid the embarrassment my ever more feminine features might cause -- the longer hair, softer face, fuller figure. I was not sure how much longer I could do even this. Even with a tee shirt my breasts were on the verge of becoming unmanageable. Were people beginning to stare? I felt so self-aware every time I left the sanctuary of my locked office.

  Sara called me before lunch and told me to meet her at the mall during lunch, so we could do a little shopping. "Dr. Nelson said we should do some girl things together, Julie. We don't have all day, but I'd like to at least spend an hour just walking with you, window shopping, okay?"

  I met her in the food court at lunch. The mall was very quiet, befitting a midweek day during the off season. For about twenty minutes we did window shop, though I'd rather have done it as Julie, rather than the overt male part of me, which felt so out of place now.

  "Let's go in here," Sara quickly pulled me into Victoria's Secret, deserted save for a few sales women.

  Sara fingered a few pretty things, and I wondered what she saw. Herself in them, pleasing Steve? Me in them pleasing her? Or worse, me in them, pleasing Steve? I shuddered at the last, shocked even more by the twinge in my crotch that came with the thought. Fuck.

  "Can I help you find something?" the clerk asked innocently. She was an older woman, forties maybe, dressed in a black pant suit, pink silk top, attractive, still winning the age battle.

  "Oh, yes, I'm looking for some bras," Sara said, walking with the clerk towards that section while my focus was riveted on a white satin boned corset with garters in the wedding section.

  "Perfect for a bride, isn't it," another clerk, younger, asked me, startling me in my dream of what it would look like on me.

  "Um, yes," I mumbled, quickly moving over to the corner where my wife was quietly talking to the clerk helping her.

  Into the fire, as it were.

  "I know, it is embarrassing, but the hormone therapy he's on has that nasty side effect. We don't know what to do, though. It's that or face a deadly disorder. I think he's up to a B-cup right now, and its hard for him to go into the office."

  I was behind Sara, eyes wide open when I heard their exchange.

  "Oh, the poor thing! Estrogen therapy or illness. It does take a special man to put aside silly thoughts of masculinity for the sake of his health."

  What the fuck? Estrogen? Health? Did she tell her that I was on hormones? She TOLD HER? I quickly looked around. Fuck! We were only ten minutes from my office! What if someone else was here???

  "I know, I know, but like I said, the side effects...he is becoming a bit...well...top heavy...and I don't know what to do. He has...breasts," Sara said. As if she was shocked and dismayed.

  "Oh my!"

  "I know, I know. They are beginning to show and the doctor can't change the prescription. He is almost showing. I don't know what to do."

  "Well, a sports bra would be an ideal solution. They really don't make anything like that in a men's store. I think he'd really need a woman's sports bra. That could hide even a c-cup easily, so he could at least feel more comfortable."

  "Yes, I suppose maybe that's an idea."

  "We have some sports bras that would do the trick."

  "Oh, baby, don't hide back there, come here, I told her all about your problem," my wife cried out. So just about the whole store could hear.

  What the FUCK!

  "I told her about the...um...growth in your chest since you started that medicine, and she said that a sports bra should do the trick for hiding your...chest. Where are they, ma'am?"

  "Well, first we really should measure him. I mean, its not just a matter of picking up the first one we see. I'm sorry sir, I know its embarrassing, but...I have to measure you."

  Oh, what the fuck was Sara doing, tormenting me?

  They quickly led me to a fitting room. The clerk told Sara to have me take off my coat, shirt and tie while she grabbed a tape measure. I was in a half panic. I was wearing panties and stay up stockings. If I held my waist right, the panties were not visible, but that only served to accentuate my feminine waist, and to show off my breasts.

  The woman, though, showed her professionalism through and through, not judging at all. Pure sympathy. At first. She measured me as a 36 B.

  "Yes, you were right, a B-cup. I really think he does need a sports bra both for support and to hide things."

  She left and came back with two of them, and had me try on one of the sports bras
. The bra did compress my chest, flattening it, hiding it.

  "Oh, that's perfect, honey. No one will see your breasts at work," said Sara, making it sound like the most natural comment in the world.

  The clerk smiled accordingly. Till Sara's next request.

  "You know, I wonder, ma'am, could we try another bra too?"

  "Another? Sure, we have a few different styles, some more cotton, some more lycra."

  "Yes, yes, we'd like those, but something else, something not quite so restrictive."

  "But this will be perfect," the clerk protested, not understanding where Sara was going. I knew all too well.

  "Perfect for the office, to hide things, but at home. Maybe something not so tight. You did say he needs support for his chest right?"

  "Oh, yes, or else...well, I suppose his breast...chest, I mean, would sag and that could be painful.

  "Well, at home, all he needs is support, right? I mean, we don't have to have things all bound up, do we?"

  "Hmm, no, I suppose not," the clerk said, "maybe a plain cotton bra?"

  "Yes, that would work...thank you," Sara said as the clerk started to leave the dressing room. "Wait, ma'am, um, I was thinking. You know, rather than go with plain cotton, I mean, who likes plain cotton bras, maybe something a bit more...frilly and sexy. And maybe lifting. Just for home, really, something sexy, maybe a push up bra, maybe, you know, to lift and enhance his cleavage."

  Now the clerk frowned, flashing disapproval on her face. "You want something like...you mean...a push up bra...like a wonderbra?"

  "Yes, yes, so just so her...I mean...his chest is not all scrunched up all day, and so he has a little sex appeal."

  "You want to...to show it off...? I suppose we have something" the clerk said, clearly troubled by my wife's suggestion. "I'm not sure that is really needed. At home, without a sports bra, your husband would do just fine."

  "Maybe something in pink satin and lace, a demi style?"

  "I..." She just frowned again, on the border of being disgusted by us. Little did she know that her displeasure was only serving to humiliate me further, and turn me on further. "You want something to show off his...chest, something...sexy."

  I was blushing deeply, but also getting very aroused, even if my cock was not hardening.

  She found just what, and started to hand it to Sara with a look of disdain on her face. She was helping us, but clearly uncomfortable with the turn of events.

  "He is a bit inexperienced with bras, of course. Can you help him?" Sara asked.

  I'm surprised the clerk did not run screaming, but rather showed what a true professional she was instead by helping me into the pink bra. I blushed, of course, lifted my arms to assist as she put the bra on me, and saw the effect of course. Nice, large, pushed up breasts. The clerk saw too. A painful look crossed her face.

  "Are there matching panties to that bra?"

  "Matching panties...why...I mean...what...," she frowned deeper. I suppose a clerk at Victoria's Secret had to help TV's from time to time, but clearly she had not seen this coming when she approached us. Maybe she would have had a younger girl help, to scare us off? "Really ma'am, I'm not sure this is appropriate."

  "Well, I always wear matching sets. If he's going to wear a sexy bra, isn't it better to have the sexy matching set?"

  "For a woman, yes, I'd always recommend it, if only to feel pretty and feminine, but for a man?"

  "A man? A man? Does he look like a man?" Sara was on the verge of outright laughter.

  "I..." She was at a loss for words. I caught my sight in the mirror when the clerk looked at me. In the bra, breasts thrust forward, hairless, trim waist. No, I looked nothing like a man. I looked like a woman. "What size?"

  "Medium."

  She was disgusted, but did what Sara asked, left the fitting room and went and got matching panties.

  "You know he can't try these on," she said with disdain in her voice.

  "Oh, I know. I'm sure they will fit."

  The clerk said nothing, resorting to an expressionless mask.

  "I don't suppose there's a matching garter belt, is there?"

  "Oh, my, no!" the clerk huffed. But she went off to fetch the belt.

  "Can my husband try that on?" Sara asked when she returned.

  The clerk looked hard at my wife for ten seconds or so. "Yes, only panties cannot be tried first." She handed my wife the pink satin garter.

  Sara must have seen the look of sheer terror on my face and changed her mind, if only because her purpose of humiliating me had already been served. Maybe she knew even I had limits, but that didn't stop her from pushing one last button.

  "You know, on second thought, I know a medium will fit. He already has some garter belts from Victoria's Secret."

  I blushed deep red as I took off the pink bra and handed it to the clerk, who left us while I finished dressing.

  "Is there anything else you will need," the clerk asked my wife after we came out of the dressing room?"

  "Yes, I just love that bra, can I get another complete set for my husband -- bra, panty, and garter -- in black and in white?"

  "Are you going to need hosiery?" she asked in a borderline contemptuous tone.

  "Oh, no, he already has plenty of stockings," Sara smiled while I blushed.

  And so Sara paid for my pretty things and sent me on my way back to the office with a parting command, "When you get home tonight, I want to see you in your new pink set."

  Oh my wife, my sexy, seductive, dominant wife.

  Home at last

  That evening when I got home, Sara met me at the door with a bottle of wine and two glasses. She wanted me to get out of my ugly work clothes and into something special, my new pink lingerie and a sexy slip. They were on the bed for me. She sent me upstairs with a glass of wine to "shower and pretty myself up."

  I did as asked, and the hot water from the shower and the wine went right to my head, lightened my mood, and make me feel wonderful. I got out of the shower, noticed Sara had refilled my wine glass, dried off, and went to the bedroom to see my new lingerie on the bed.

  I wanted to be pretty for my wife. I wanted nothing more, and took time to do my makeup, toss my hair about, and carefully dress in my new lingerie. The result was amazing -- the white and pink lingerie, the white heels, my makeup were almost too much. The bra and slip worked on my growing breasts, pushed and moved them to form perfect movie star cleavage.

  "Oh my god, Julie," Sara gasped from the doorway. I returned the gasp, at my wife, also dressed to seduce, but in black, not white. Black half bra with sheer cups, her nipples barely held in. Matching sheer panties and garter belt, a hint of red trim on all three. Stockings. Strappy heels. A sheer black wrap.

  And the dildo from Dr. Nelson's office. Strapped around my wife's waist, not quite hidden, behind the folds of the sheer gown.

  "Turn around, lover," Sara walked over to me, two white pieces of something in her hands. She used one, a tie from a robe, maybe to tie my hands behind my back, not tight, but making them useless. The other was a soft collar which she buckled around my neck, a choker collar.

  "No hands, slave" she whispered as she turned me around on my heels until we were face to face, and ran her fingers over the front of my slip.

  "You are fucking amazing, Julie," she said as she gently assaulted me with her mouth and tongue, and by proximity her dildo too, pushing onto my leg.

  For five minutes, I just stood there as Sara walked around my body, kissed me, touched me, caressed me, and seduced me. She reached to the front of my slip, at my crotched, and rubbed it with her hand. "Well, you are swollen, but not hard, that's something, I guess."

  "Oh, Sara, please," I moaned, tugging on the bond on my hands, indicating I wanted to be released.

  "I told you no hands."

  She stood in front of me, hugged me, kissed my neck like a vampire, her breasts crushing my breasts, her strap-on dildo pressed into my crotch, and she started to hump me, dirty danced with me
.

  "You know," she whispered into my ear, "I love having the cock in the family."

  "Ohhhhh," I gasped, my semi soft penis pressed into her hard dildo.

  "You are just dying for it, aren't you? Dr. Nelson knew you'd be craving cock, she told us, didn't she."

  "Please Sara," I moaned, knees unsteady.

  Sara moved behind me, massaged my breasts through the satin slip, through the bra, moved her hands down to my crotch again, and toyed with my mound. Then, into my hands fell her dildo, her cock, the hard cock I now lacked.

  "Feel it? Feel my cock? Tell me lover, who has the cock in our family?" she asked me, as she pumped the strap-on through my bound hands.

  "Who," she demanded? "Who has the cock?"

  "Oh god, Sara, you do," I moaned as she squeezed my crotch.

  "You want it, don't you Julie? You want my cock, don't you. That's all you think about now. Cock. My cock. Cock."

  I felt her reposition herself, the cock now between my thighs, rubbing me through my panties below the hem of my slip.

  "Got Cock?" She laughed. "You want it, Julie, I know it. You know it. Tell me. You want this cock, you want my cock, tell me you want my cock."

  Right now all I wanted was to drop to my knees and suck my wife's glorious cock, to submit to her, to surrender to her.

  "Yes, Sara, yes."

  "You need cock, lover, tell me."

  Right now I wanted her to finish, to bend me over, to impale me. "YESSS!"

  "Oh, you naughty girl, begging for cock, just what would all the ladies think? Patience dear," she rubbed the cock between my thighs. "You know, I'd love to do something...where is my glass, I want to dip my cock into the wine, and watch you suck the sweet liquid off my cock. Yes, huh?"

  "Oh god, Sara, yes," I said, eager to suck her cock in any state, flush with desire at the little game my wife suggested.

  "Oh fuck, our glasses are empty. Come, pet, let's go get the bottle." Sara walked to her dresser, opened the top drawer, and took a thin chain leash out, something for a poodle, with shiny stones, and clipped it to my collar.

  "I think my pet needs a leash, don't you darling."

  "Yes, Sara, yes." I was so sexually charged, I'd agree to a leash or anything else she might suggest.