Womanized

by Nikki Crescent

  “No coffee?” she said.

  “I thought we would just go to our gate and get them on the other side, so that we don’t have to dump them out,” I said.

  She smiled and nodded her head. “Right. That makes sense,” she said. But it seemed strange that she hadn’t thought of that. She was always flying around the country—at least a flight per week. So of all people, she should have known that buying coffee before going through security was a silly idea. But it was early—maybe she was just tired. We had, after all, spent the whole night up, snuggled together, making out and fucking in the dark.

  So we bought coffees once we were through security and customs. We had a rare direct flight straight to Thailand. It was a long flight, though it didn’t feel too long, spending it next to Janie. Six hours in, while most of the people on the plane were sleeping, we snuck off to one of the little bathrooms. Janie pulled me inside and then she flipped up her skirt and pulled down her panties. “Stick it in me—quickly,” she said. So I plugged her with my cock and I pumped her for three minutes or so. As usual, she closed her eyes and took the fucking with a smile on her face.

  And for the first time, I started to wonder why she always closed her eyes during sex. Was that a female thing, or was she trying to imagine that she was with someone else? It always seemed like the moment I had my cock in her, her eyes were closed. Sometimes those eyes would be closed before I even had my dick deep in her cunt. Of course I didn’t mention anything. I didn’t want her to think that I had self-esteem problems, even though I was starting to think that was very possible.

  That wasn’t the only action I got on that plane. Just as I was dozing off, about ten hours into the flight, her hand slipped onto my lap, underneath the blanket we got from one of the flight attendants. She got her fingers into my fly, and then she started massaging my cock. She really knew how to move those fingers, sliding them up and down, and twisting them just enough to make my legs tremble. She used the little plastic cup that her gingerale came in to catch my cumshot. Then she just casually discarded the cum cup a minute later when the flight attendant came by with a big black garbage bag.

  I was starting to wonder if we were even going to do anything in Thailand aside from fucking. How could we travel around to visit ancient ruins? How were we going to go out for fancy dinners? How were we even going to venture into public, if all we could think about was sex? It seemed like an awfully long distance to travel just to have sex. But I wasn’t about to complain.

  Thailand was warm and humid—and incredibly busy. Janie grabbed my hand after we got off the plane, and she didn’t let go of it until we were safely away from the dense crowds, down at the baggage claim. Her two bags came down almost immediately. She asked me to watch them while she went to check her makeup in the bathroom. I figured my bag would come down while she was gone, but it didn’t. “Got your bag yet?” she asked.

  “Not yet,” I said. So we kept waiting. And we waited and waited and waited—but it never came. We went to customer service and asked what the problem was. We ended up waiting nearly an hour while the man at customer service tried to reach our home airport. Finally, he told us, “Your bag was never scanned. They’re looking for it now at the airport,” he said.

  “What do you mean it was never scanned?” I said.

  “I’m sorry, sir. They’re looking for it now. If they find it, they will call you and arrange to have it delivered to you.”

  Janie put her hand on my shoulder. “They’ll find it. Let’s just get to the hotel.”

  “But I don’t have any of my stuff,” I said. “I don’t even have a toothbrush.”

  “We’ll buy you one on the way to the hotel. C’mon—let’s go. I really want to get into our room.” She was looking into my eyes with a smirk, suggesting sex, so I didn’t put up any more of a tight. I took her hand and we each took one of her suitcases before zipping off to grab a cab.

  The hotel was beautiful. Our room was covered in rose petals and there was a complimentary bottle of champagne left on the bed, with a note that said, ‘HAPPY HONEYMOON!’ I opened the bottle of champagne while Janie slipped into the bathroom to get herself changed into ‘something more comfortable.’ She came out wearing the same white lace two-piece that she wore on our wedding night. We had a quick sip of champagne, then we went right back to making out. We rolled around on the bed. I squeezed her breasts and then our tongues wrapped together. She had her hands on my ass while I grinded my cock against her lace-clad pussy.

  “My friends are crazy,” I said.

  “Why?” she asked with a narrowed gaze.

  “They didn’t think that we were going to work,” I said. “They didn’t think that a girl like you could ever see anything in a guy like me.”

  She grinned. “I see a lot in you,” she said.

  “I know,” I said. We kissed again. She reached down and grabbed my cock. Then I noticed that her eyes were closed as she stroked it up and down. That little smile was on her face. She only seemed to open those eyes when she was looking down, at my crotch. But once we were getting intimate, there was never a look into my eyes, or even a look north of my sternum. Maybe she just wanted to stay focussed on the action, not to be distracted by my non-sexual elements. I wasn’t about to complain.

  She sunk down and sucked me off, until I came in her mouth. She came up and kissed me on the lips. Then, without warning, she slipped some of my own cum into my mouth. I winced back and spat, suddenly shocked. “What the hell?” I said, wiping my lips.

  She giggled. “Oh c’mon—I’m just having some fun,” she said.

  “Fun?” I asked. “That’s gross. That’s my cum!”

  “I swallow it all the time. What’s wrong with it?”

  “I don’t know. I’m a guy. I’m not supposed to have that in my mouth.”

  She opened her mouth, showing me that she still had some of my white goo resting on her tongue. “It tastes good. You’d like it if you gave it a try.”

  I laughed, feeling slightly nervous. “I’m not gay,” I said.

  “I should hope not,” she said. “Just open your mouth. Try it for me. Try it for your wifey.”

  My heart was suddenly pounding. “Are you serious?” I said.

  “Dead serious. Open your mouth. Prove to me that you love me.”

  I hesitated for a moment longer. Then, I gave in. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and opened my mouth. She crawled forward, pressed her lips to mine, and then she gently spat my cum into my mouth. “Just hold it in there for a moment,” she said. She stared into my eyes with a big, radiant smile. Her eyes were glowing with excitement. “Now swallow it—all of it.” I awkwardly swallowed my own load. It left a bitter taste on my tongue. “Good,” she said. She leaned forward and gave me a kiss on the lips. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “Whatever makes you happy, I guess,” I said.

  She got up to use the bathroom, to get herself cleaned up for bed. I went over to the minibar and popped a little bottle of whiskey open. I used it to overpower the cum taste in my mouth. My mind was still racing, still trying to figure out why Janie wanted me to eat my own cum so badly. Maybe it was just her fetish. I still didn’t know everything about her—maybe I still had a lot more to learn about her than I originally thought.

  CHAPTER IV

  When I emerged from the shower that night, I noticed that my pile of clothes was missing from the floor. “Where’s my stuff?” I said.

  Janie bit her lip and then she made a big smile, showing off her perfect teeth. “Don’t be mad,” she said. Then she motioned towards the open bottle of red wine. “I spilled a glass on them. I brought them down to the lobby while you were showering. The lady thinks that the cleaning girls will be able to save them tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean, tomorrow? Those were my only clothes!” I said.

  “What? It’s not like I spilled the wine on purpose. It’ll be fine. I’m sure your luggage will get here before then anyway.”


  I had nothing to wear—not even a pair of underwear. I’d never slept naked before in my life, until that night. It was a weird feeling, with my bare cock against the soft satin sheets. I kept squirming, feeling uncomfortable with the idea of my private parts touching sheets that didn’t technically belong to me. Who knows how many cocks had touched those sheets? And not to mention: we were in Thailand. Maybe the standard of cleanliness wasn’t the same for Thai hotels as it was in the West. What if I ended up with an STI?

  “Are you uncomfortable?” Janie asked.

  “I’m used to sleeping in boxers and a t-shirt,” I said. “It’s the way I’ve slept for twenty-five years.”

  “Sleeping naked isn’t so bad, is it?” she asked.

  “I’m sure I’ll survive the night.” I was starting to feel grumpy, a little bit annoyed with Janie. How could she spill wine directly on my pile of clothes? Was it my fault for leaving them right in the middle of the floor? I wished that she would have been more careful, seeing as I was planning on wearing those clothes until my luggage arrived. I still hadn’t heard anything from the airline about my missing bag.

  I squirmed again as the thought of some other guy’s dried cum stain crossed my mind.

  “If you want, you can wear something of mine,” she said. “I have some really comfortable nighties that would probably fit you just fine.”

  “You want me to wear one of your nighties?” I asked with a laugh.

  She scoffed. “Get over yourself. It’s not going to kill your masculinity to wear a nightie. You’re under the covers anyway—it’s not like I’ll even see it.” And it wasn’t a bad point. At least I knew that her clothes were clean. Her whole suitcase smelled like laundry detergent—and I knew that she didn’t have any STIs.

  “You promise you won’t make fun of me?” I said. “And it’s just for tonight—until I have my own clothes to wear to bed.”

  “Yeah. Just hold on for one second.” She sprung out of bed and pranced towards her suitcase. She flipped it open and then she started digging around. Then, she pulled out a red satin nightie. “This is seriously the most comfortable thing you’ll ever sleep in.” She tossed it to me. It had a little lace skirt and lace embellishments around the top, where my cleavage was supposed to be.

  I shook my head as I held the little outfit up. “I’m just putting this on because I have nothing else,” I said.

  “Yeah—put it on already. Quit being a weirdo.”

  I slipped into the little outfit. It fit surprisingly well, and it really was quite comfortable. Before Janie got back into bed, she fished a pair of panties out from her suitcase. “Put these on as well,” she said.

  “What? Why?”

  “If your skirt rides up in the night, you’ll have something covering your cock.” And it was a good point. The red nightie had a short skirt that would inevitably ride up—and I needed to have something covering my crotch for the sake of my sanity. So I begrudgingly slipped the panties on underneath the skirt of my nightie. I felt like a fool.

  Janie smirked as she looked at me. “You look cute.”

  “You said you wouldn’t make fun of me,” I said.

  “I’m not making fun. You really look cute,” she said. “Don’t look so embarrassed. I’m your wife. You shouldn’t be embarrassed around me.” She crawled back into bed and kissed me on the lips. “Now get some sleep so we can have some fun tomorrow.”

  I had to admit: the nightie was comfortable. The satin felt heavenly against my skin, and the tightness of the panties was so much better than the loose boxers I normally wore. Nothing got twisted uncomfortably and nothing rubbed awkwardly against my skin.

  Janie cuddled up to me, putting her arm over me and holding me close. It was kind of weird being the little spoon while dressed in her nightie, but I tried not to think of it too much. She was my wife and she was just helping me out. I would let her wear anything of mine if she had no clothes to wear—so what really was the difference?

  I was just dozing off when she started running her hand up and down my thigh. “Are you awake?” she whispered.

  “Yeah,” I whispered back. “Why?”

  “Roll over,” she said.

  So I rolled over to face her. She gently put her hand on my satin-clad side and then she leaned forward and locked her lips with mine. It was a gentle, soft kiss, with little tongue teases every few seconds. Her hand moved slowly up and down my side. She reached down and lifted up my leg, pulling it over her so that our bodies were tangled together.

  My cock became hard fast, but it was sore as it throbbed. I’d already gotten off four times in the past twenty-four hours. I wasn’t sure my cock could handle one more. Though the soreness didn’t stop me from stopping her when she reached down and guided my cock into her snatch. She was wet and ready. I plunged in deep and we fucked slowly. Her hands kept exploring my body, feeling the satin of my nightie.

  She had her eyes closed with that smile on her face. I loved seeing that smile on her face, though a part of me wished that she would have opened those eyes. I still couldn’t help but think that she was imagining someone else in that bed with her—maybe Brad Pitt, maybe George Clooney. Though I almost laughed when I imagined her imagining Brad Pitt wearing a little red nightie. Even with her eyes closed, she was still feeling up and down my satin-clad sides, so it couldn’t have been easy to picture someone wearing anything but a nightie.

  CHAPTER V

  When I woke up, Janie was already out of bed—already dressed and dolled up for the day. She was sitting by the window sipping from a mug of steaming coffee. She looked over at me with a big smile and said, “Good morning.”

  I sat up slowly. “Did the airport call? Did they find my bag?” I asked as I wiped the sleep out from my eyes.

  “Not yet,” she said. Then she looked back out the window. “Just a block away from here is a breakfast restaurant. It’s world famous. If we get down there in the next hour, we can beat the line-up. What do you think?”

  “I think it would be a great idea if I had something to wear—but I’ve got nothing. Unless the front desk has called yet about my clothes. Did they get them cleaned?”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t heard anything. Just wear something of mine. It’s not a big deal. We’re just getting breakfast.”

  “What do you mean, wear something of yours? I can’t leave this room wearing something of yours.” And that’s when I looked down and realized I was still wearing the red nightie and the tight lace panties. I felt my cheeks suddenly turning a shade of dark red.

  “Please, babe. I really want to eat at this restaurant. We can’t just sit in the hotel for our whole honeymoon because you don’t have your clothes. We can buy you some new clothes later. Please, sweetie—let’s just get breakfast. Put something of mine on. No one will care.”

  She put her mug down and she zipped over to her suitcase. She started digging around until she found a white dress with green palm leaves printed on it in a pattern. “Wear this,” she said.

  “I can’t wear a dress. People will make fun of me,” I said.

  “It’s not a dress. It’s a romper. It’s like wearing shorts attached to a top. It’s not even that feminine.” She walked it over to me.

  “People will think that I’m a cross-dresser. Is that what you want? Do you want people to think that you married a cross-dresser?” I picked up the romper and looked at it. It was soft in my hands, but it still looked like a dress to me. I wasn’t even sure what classified it as a ‘romper’ instead of a dress. It had long lacy sleeves and a deep cut V with thin laces crisscrossing it together.

  “If you want, I can put a bit of makeup on you and we can shave your legs—then people will just think that you’re my girlfriend.”

  My heart stammered down into my stomach. “Excuse me?” I said. “You can’t be serious. You actually think that I want to leave this hotel room looking like a chick? You’ve lost your mind.”

  She sighed and shook her head. “No offence
, babe. But right now, we have three choices: we can stay in the hotel room for the next—God knows how long—waiting for your luggage to show up; or we can go down and enjoy our vacation with people thinking that you’re a cross-dresser, and you can just try to ignore them, knowing that you’ll never see any of them again in your life. Or you can just let me put a bit of makeup on you and shave your legs, and then no one will notice us at all. In fact, with that last option, we might even get some free stuff. People are always giving me free stuff when I’m out with my girlfriends.”

  My stomach turned and my legs trembled. She may have sounded crazy, but she did have a point: those were the only options that I could think of.

  “We can go buy you some jeans and a t-shirt after breakfast,” she said. “Surely you can endure an hour or two of a romper and a bit of makeup.”

  I felt like a complete idiot, but I let her doll me up for breakfast. I made sure that she knew that she would be doing all the talking, and that I wouldn’t take off the big pair of sunglasses that I was borrowing from her.

  I was shocked when she pulled a long blonde wig out from her suitcase. It didn’t look much different from the hair on her own head, except for the fact that she had bangs and the wig was just loose and long. “Why do you have that?” I asked.

  “I always bring it around with me—in case I’m having a really bad hair day,” she said. “It’s just a model thing. We all do it.” And I took her word for it. I let her put the wig on my head once she had my natural hair all scrunched up into a stretchy cap. Then she went ahead and started doing my makeup. I closed my eyes and I let her have her fun—and she really was having fun. She was smiling and giggling the whole time, as if she got some sort of kick out of my humiliation. I didn’t even know why she was spending so much time with my eyes, seeing as I was just going to cover them with sunglasses.

  It took her twenty minutes to pretty up my face. Next, she ran the tub and quickly shaved my legs using one of the many razors she brought along with her. I thought it was strange that she had so many razors, especially seeing as she’d just gone to wax her legs a few days before. I figured that was just another model quirk. I was surprised by how smooth and long my legs looked without leg hair. Though the feeling of my thighs rubbing together when I walked was strange.