A Change in Our Marriage - The Sissy Cuckold

by Sara Desmarais

  "Oh John," she said, suddenly moving to kiss me. "MMmmnnn!" She gurgled happily, her lips mashing mine, her tongue probing into my mouth. "Now that is nice."

  Her mouth found mine again as she pushed me back onto the bed, and her kiss was feverish. I'm always aroused by her excitement; it's infectious. I writhed beneath her and enjoyed the bizarre sensations. I held her shoulders as she rubbed my flesh against hers. I cupped one of her firm breasts - it felt fantastic feeling her nipple as it burst from the rim of her sexy satin chemise. Sara moved her own hand over my left nipple. She tweaked it expertly and wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. Her other hand was at my groin was rubbing furiously. I enjoyed it. The hand at my nipple squeezed my flesh molding it into a small but perfect breast. At that moment her lips swooped down and took my nipple into her mouth! I thrashed about wildly; it was almost too good, too good to bear!

  She continued kissing my nipples, pushing my chest around, making small mounds. Her hips worked over my legs, bringing her pantied crotch into direct contact with mine. She rubbed her panties over mine, satin on satin, and I honestly felt feminine, I felt myself surrendering to her.

  I moved my hands down to my panties, wanting to take them off, to penetrate her. "No," she groaned, as she pushed herself down harder onto me. "Do it this way, be my woman."

  She continued to "bump and grind" rubbing me clit to cock. No. Clit to clit. She began to shudder as she orgasmed and her sign was my sign. I began to orgasm in response. We withered, rubbed, pushed, kissed, touched, and moaned our way to a dual orgasm. Her and me, me and her, bodies becoming one.

  We lay intertwined for some time, kissing, touching, exploring. I giggled, at one point. "What," Sara smiled.

  "Honey, for the second time in two days, you made love to me and left me a mess down there," I said, feeling that 'mess' cooling down.

  "Well, honey, I suppose turn about is fair play, since women always have a mess down there after sex," she laughed.

  She rolled off me and I looked at the clock, it was almost noon. Well, some way to spend a Saturday morning.

  "Honey, I have to get up," I told her, "I have to get some things done around here today, I can't stay here all day." Saturday, in early afternoon, I messed around with some things around the house, so I could watch golf later. She sighed, kissed me, but let me climb out of bed.

  I pulled down the panties sheepishly a bit embarrassed at what happened. I guess I was still at a '60' for right now. Grabbing shorts, boxers, and a tee, I started to get dressed, with Sara laying on the bed, still in her nightie, watching me. She shook her head, and had a devilish smile on her face. "What," I asked.

  "Are you butch?"

  "Butch?"

  "Yes, are you a bull dyke butch lesbian," she chuckled.

  "No," I said, giving her a funny look.

  "Well, honey, remember, we are moving to the femininity side, not the stud side. Unless you want to be a butch. Of course, a butch is more masculine than you, at least a '20', so why are you going to wear those flannel boxers?"

  "What else would I wear?"

  "Why, panties, of course, silly, what else would a woman wear?" She jumped up, rummaged through her dresser, and pulled out a pair of pink satin high cut panties. This was moving too fast for me, "Sara, I don't know."

  "John," she said, anger rising, "this is not some game to play just because you get horny, I am serious about this. Look at these panties. Satin, lace, so smooth. You know, this is what separates things. Men never wear lace, never!"

  I looked at her panties in a completely new light. They really were lovely, and I told her so. "Is this what you see for me, Sara? Panties? Like this?"

  "John, it's what I hope for, but I'm not sure you can handle it. I want it, I really do want this, but I don't want to scare you, or push you away."

  "But, it's one thing, in bed, a few minutes ago, I would be embarrassed to wear these, under my shorts," I told her, my face flushing. Despite that, in a way, I did want them.

  "Not with me, John, you should NEVER be embarrassed with me. Remember, I want this, this is MY idea."

  I took the panties, my fingers slipped over the satin, "but...but what's next, Sara, I mean, all your panties have...have matching...bras. Is a bra next? Skirts? Dresses? I don't know," I said, shaking my head.

  She looked at me, "John, let me be honest, yes John, slowly, but yes. A bra. Don't be afraid John, remember I love you and this is for me too. Imagine wearing those panties and the matching bra, wearing them for me, slipping them on to please your wife, feeling so dainty, so vulnerable, and so deliciously feminine...for me!"

  "Oh God, Sara," I got weak kneed at her words.

  "Put them on, John, please, put on your panties for me." How could I resist? What could I say to this woman I love. I pulled them on, pulled her satin panties up my legs for the second time today.

  While I was pulling them up, she pulled the matching pink bra from her drawer and held it up for me to see. "Please Sara, not yet, I'm not ready for that, I can't do that," I gasped.

  She set it on the dresser. "You don't have to yet, John," she promised, "but I want you to know it's here, waiting for you."

  I was shuddering again as I pulled my shorts up over my...her...no, my panties. "Think of this John, my panties are like my hands are all over your ass and front," she smiled, "and when you wear a bra, all over your chest.

  I went about my early afternoon, her words burned into my mind. It really did feel like her hands were all over my ass and my cock. It was driving me wild with desire, a desire she wanted nothing to do with right then.

  Later that afternoon, before sitting down to watch golf, I was in the bedroom, and Sara looked at me, smiling, admiring. "What," I asked.

  "Nothing, dear, just looking at your ass, that's all," she smiled, her eyes dancing over me. She never talked like this, never so openly did anything like that.

  I blushed. "So, how do they feel?"

  "My panties," I asked sheepishly?

  "Yes," she smiled, "your panties? Do you like them?"

  I blushed. "Yes," I said, meekly, my eyes unable to meet hers, moving, coming to rest on the bra which was still on her dresser.

  "You want it, don't you," she whispered. "You have been thinking about it all day, John, haven't you?"

  I didn't answer. I couldn't answer.

  "Take off your shirt, John," she said.

  I shook my head. "Take it off, John," she commanded.

  She walked to me, holding the bra out, "put your arms out," she instructed. I did as ordered; meekly letting my wife put the soft bra on me. "Oh, John, it's a nice fit, it holds your breasts in place so well," she smiled, touching the bra cups with her fingers. "Look in the mirror, John. They are so sexy. Do you like your new bra and panties," she asked, emphasizing whose they were.

  "Yes," I whispered, too terrified to say anything else.

  "Good, say it then," she smiled.

  "I...I like my new bra and panties," I choked out.

  "Sweetie, you make me so happy," she smiled.

  She handed me short and a tee shirt to wear over my delicate things as I went about my day. It was an amazing experience, a day in satin, the bra tugging and pushing into me, the panties cupping me.

  That night, undressing for bed, I took them all off and threw them into the corner. I always slept naked and felt more so without my...my bra and panties. In bed next to me, her arms around me, she asked, "Did you like that, today?"

  I smiled, "Yes, Sara, I did."

  I drifted off to sleep, in her arms, happy, safe, and secure.

  We woke up the next morning, Sunday, and showered together, laughing, smiling, and being in love. I grew in the shower, and soaped up, kissing her, moved my hips to try to enter her. Sara turned her hips to the side, and said, "John, don't ruin it."

  Was sex with me "ruining the mood?" Is that how she thought of it? But isn't that how I wanted her to think of it? Isn't that what my cuckold fantasies were about? Perhaps
, but I knew fantasy was not reality.

  Back in the bedroom, I went to my dresser and pulled out a pair of boxers. "Feeling butch today," Sara asked.

  "What...I...,"

  "Did you become butch last night?"

  "Well, no Sara, but I just wanted to get dressed and go read the paper." Sunday morning I sat around in boxers and a tee shirt, drinking coffee, reading the paper.

  "You can get dressed, John, but in your underwear, not some bull dyke's underwear."

  I stood there, holding the boxers in my hand, frozen. "Don't just stand there, John, get dressed so we can go read the paper," she said. She was being vague on purpose, trying to piss me off, I think.

  "Sara, I..."

  "Your underwear," she said, pointing to the discarded bra and panties I wore yesterday.

  "You...you want me to wear your bra and panties again," I asked.

  "Your bra and panties," she corrected me.

  "Yes, yes, my bra and panties," I said. "But they are dirty," I protested.

  "I know, but that is the only set of underwear you own, so you are going to have to wear them again until we can buy you some more," she smiled.

  "Buy some for me," I asked?

  "Well, of course, silly, a girl needs more than one bra and one pair of panties."

  "But Sara, I'm not..."

  "Not sure how to shop for your first bra," she smiled, "don't worry, I will go with you after lunch."

  Just like that, I was going bra shopping. I put on the bra and panties like she asked, and she slipped on a camisole and tap panty set. Damn she looked good. She saw me eyeing her, "look pretty?"

  "Yes," I smiled.

  "Me or the lingerie," she smiled.

  I blushed. Cause I wasn't sure.

  I followed her out of the room, feeling a bit awkward in only my bra and panties, but at some level, feeling like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  We were sitting on the couch, sipping coffee, the paper spread between us. I was reading the sports page, she was looking at ads.

  "What do you think of this bra," she asked me, showing me a pink satin and lace number in an ad from an upscale dept. store.

  I glanced over quickly, annoyed at being interrupted. "You'd look nice in it."

  "Not for me," she laughed.

  "What do you..." I started. Oh, duh. Of course not for her.

  I looked closer at the ad she showed me, at the $40.00 bra. It really was pretty. "It is pretty," I said, staring at it. "Look, John, it has matching panties and a matching garter belt," she said, pointing farther down the page.

  "Garter belt," I choked.

  "Yes, if we got this one, you could wear stockings with it," she smiled, looking like a happy child.

  "Stockings? Christ Sara, what are you talking about? Isn't that going too far," I said, fury rising up in me. "I mean, it's one thing to weara bra and panties, but come on!"

  "What's wrong with stockings," she demanded.

  "Those are for women," I said scornfully.

  "And what are you," she asked, angry, "a man?"

  "I..."

  "Don't you see, can't you do what I want to be happy," she said.

  "Sara, I thought you wanted me to be..."

  "A man? No, John, no, no, no. Nothing we have discussed leads to that. I DON'T want you to be my man, do you see? I want you to be my woman."

  And there it was. The unspoken desire she had for me. A woman. To be her woman. Not her man. And how did that fit with me? Is that what I wanted? I wanted to be a man! But sitting there, in a bra and panties, how could I possibly think that? No I didn't want to be a man, but did I want to be a woman?

  "This is what I want you go get, John, a set like this," she held the ad up with the incredibly sexy bra, panty and garter belt set. "Now, normally a woman's first bra is more of a training bra, but usually women need their first bra as a girl. Since you waited until you were an adult woman to get your first bra, I think it's appropriate to buy you a woman's bra," she smiled.

  "Sara, you are scaring me," I laughed, half serious and half kidding.

  "John, why? I'm sorry, maybe I'm getting ahead of your comfort level, but I just feel so good about this. Going with you to buy your first bra...it's so exciting. It's such a milestone in a woman's life, something you will never forget."

  See, she was scaring me.

  "You know, there is one problem, John," she said.

  "What...you mean beyond buying me a bra," I said sarcastically.

  "I know my bra fits you, but we need to get you the right size if we are buying one. I wonder if they can fit you today."

  I shuddered, "Sara, are you fucking crazy? You cannot possibly expect me to do that."

  She pondered this. "Perhaps you are right. Not yet, anyway. It might...well, I think we can take care of that. Take that bra off," she smiled, walking out of the room.

  I took off my bra...I can't believe I said that... 'my bra'...I took off my bra, and stood there, self conscious, only in panties. Sara came back with a sewing tape measure in her hands.

  "Good morning, Ma'am, I understand you wish to be fitted today," she smiled, almost giggling, acting like a saleswoman, even wearing a white

  short robe.

  "Um, Sara...I...,"

  "Now, don't worry Ma'am, your bra size can change over time, so it's a good idea to be fit now and then...it's nothing to be ashamed about. Here, turn around and lift your arms up."

  Sara wrapped the tape measure around my chest, "hmm, about a 38," she said.

  "Now, cup size," she mumbled, taking my chest in her hands, "you are an A cup, I think, that may be a problem."

  "What?"

  "Well, 38A is a difficult size, we rarely carry that in stock. You are probably best to go with the 38...A cup only comes in a 34, and that won't fit. So, go with the 38 and we can see about filling the cup, we have some nice cup fillers. I think a 38C is what you need, Ma'am, and then some C cup bra fillers." She took a piece of paper out of her pocket.

  "Here is my card, and I have your size filled in on the back. I'm also writing down a web site that sells cup fillers," she handed me the card.

  "Um, thank you," I mumbled, feeling very self conscious about this.

  "I'll be over there helping someone else, please let me know if you need help picking out some styles," she said, leaving the room again, leaving me holding the card, where Sara had written down the information.

  A minute later, Sara came back in, and looked at my hand. "What's that, sweetie," she asked. "Did you get fit?"

  "I...I...here...," I stammered.

  She took the card from my hand. "Oh, a 38A...but she has down here to get a 38C with bra fillers. She was right, you can't get a 38A so, well, this is helpful, a web site with something to help." I had the feeling again that Sara was several steps ahead of me.

  "Let's see about these fillers." She went to the computer, the one that originally got me into this damn mess, and started the web browser. I blushed as I saw the home page. It was no longer cnn.com. She changed it to cuckoldhusbands.com. She smiled at the surprise on my face. "Still fantasize about that," she asked.

  "I..."

  "Don't worry, I know you do. Don't think just because we are doing this, properly dressing you, I've forgotten about this."

  She called up the web site the saleswoman...well, that she had written down. Up came a page of silicone breasts...lifelike, nipples, in flesh color. "What are those," I asked.

  "These are breast forms for women who had a mastectomy that don't want implants. They come in every size and flesh color and look and feel just like a real breast when glued on."

  "Breast forms," I asked, shocked.

  "Well, you don't want implants, do you," she asked me.

  "God no!"

  "Silly, then these are what you need to fill out your bra."

  "They...they look like real breasts."

  "I told you, that's the point, for women who lost a breast, or just want to enhance themselves wit
hout implants. They glue on, they are warm to the touch, from skin, bounce, everything, just like real breasts."

  "Glue?"

  "Yes, they are quite secure, I read, the glue will hold the breast forms on securely for weeks without any loss of hold, even when played with, run with, anything. Without the release solvent, they hold in place very securely."

  "Weeks," I asked, my knees weak. She only smiled.

  I stood there, watching, while Sara completed the information the site requested for ordering the forms. Fifteen minutes later, we had a UPS tracking number, and scheduled delivery for 10:30 am, the next day, Monday morning, for a pair of C cup breast forms for me.

  My feminization continued.

  "Get dressed, the mall opens soon," Sara said, "we have to go buy your first bra."

  She was practically running to the bedroom herself, to get ready, to go shopping, to help me buy my first bra. I moved a bit slower, as always, not wanting to rush thing, things Sara had every intention of pushing forward with.

  Walking into the mall, I felt like every single person was staring at me. Sara did not make me wear her bra to go out, but I still had on her panties. Were the lines visible through my trousers? She held the door for me, smiling, "your first bra," she whispered, "you must be so excited. Are you?"

  I gulped. Because I was. As messed up as that can sound, I was excited, because I was going with my wife to buy my first bra.

  "Yes," I answered, palms sweaty.

  She giggled, "Probably as excited as I'm going to be when I get a real cock inside me again," she laughed, breezing through the door, leaving me standing there, dumb faced, looking around to see if anyone heard her.

  "Come on silly," she laughed, going through the second set of doors.

  She took my hand when I caught up to her, flashed her smile at me, "does that turn you on or bother you," she asked?

  "The bra?"

  "No, when I talk about a man fucking me?"

  "You know it excites me, Sara," I said, with all seriousness in my voice.

  "I know, I just like making you think about your fantasy," she said, wrapping her arm around my waist.

  We walked into Victoria's Secret like this, and I felt something inside me as we entered. I had shopped here before, but never like this. With Sara, it was different. I was nervous, butterflies danced. Sara sensed it, my damp palm, "First bra makes all women nervous," she whispered in my ear.