A Wife's Indulgence (9)

from the home of WannbeGinger

 

The best day of my life was unfolding. Pausing for breath before still more intense love-making, as we laid back with our martinis, I considered the future. We couldn't survive if we were going to fuck like this every day. Moderation in all things! I'd have to create the way towards this being a regular part of our lives. Until then, we should make the most of the uncontrolled lust that had overwhelmed us.

 

I took his hands and studied them. "Nails first." I decided for him. No choice. "Then I'll add something to those eyes… those pretty eyes. Then we'll finish off your hair and your can parade for me. Show yourself off a little, my little girl." The dominant male was consigned to memory for a while. I wanted him back as my girl. The light hairs on his forearms were soft to the touch as I prepared to complete his manicure. Hang up the phones!! I thought!

 

The nail polish was an easy task. Some acetone and a cotton pad. They were cleaned up within a minute. The polish was located and the bottle opened. That wonderful smell pervaded the surroundings. I sometimes could swear that I smelled it in my sleep. Sooooo sexy.

I took hold of his right hand – the one that suffered from his 'cack-handedness' and very slowly

I put two separate and quite thin coats of polish on each nail. He turned his hands around and admired them. Obviously comparing my work with his own…. "I think I did very well… considering!", he rejoiced. His hands would make him an asset in his future days as a girl.

 

"Now, turn away from the mirror, honey. I'm going to transform your eyes. You've done wonderfully well with the mascara and the eyeshadow. You've succeeded in bringing together total femininity with a kinda "come-n'-get-it" look. Your eyes were the first thing I saw when

I came in the house. So, I come and got it!!!!" He blushed, and turned his chair away from the vanity unit.

 

I reached for the creamy liquid eyeliner that I'd planned to emphasize his look with. My face closed in towards his. I could feel his breath on my cheek. "Close your eyes now and keep them closed." Up close and personal, this was. Removing the brush, its pointed tip laden with dark black colour and I swept it across the two eyelids. First the right, then the left. He would be expecting something special. As if the black were not enough, I then reached for another pot of colour and removed another pointed brush. This one was coated with a vivid blue that also sparkled in the spotlight above the mirror. A blue flash across his eyes as well! It complemented the eyeshadow beautifully.

 

"Keep those eyes closed!" I said shortly… I wasn't finished yet. His lipstick needed attention. All the kissing had worn it away somewhat. It needed freshening for what I hoped would come later. As I toughed his upper lip with the stick, he smiled broadly. "That's the way! The wider the smile, the fuller the lips!" was my response.

I turned him back to the mirror so he could admire my work with the eyeliners. Standing behind him. "Wonderful!"…., we said in unison.

 

What to do with is hair? It was several hours since it had been washed. The drying process for the curls round his crown was long since forgotten. The rest of his head bore superbly folded curls. Somehow, the fucking hadn't disturbed them much.

The top was flat and somehow lifeless, largely because it was there that I'd grabbed his hair in mid-fuck. There was no style about it. I had to re-do the crown to make the best of his look tonight.

"You'll hate me for this…." I said, "….but I've got to put some of your hair back in rollers for a while." There was no question. This would regenerate the intimacy of earlier moments. As I did what I had to do to arrange the equipment, I was conscious of moving around for the first time without the cock in my pussy. There were no jockey pants here either. As I moved across the room, cool air wafted over my love nest and I was moved to twirl as a girl would do.

"Strictly Cum Dancing!" he chipped in, laughing out loud. "You're right, I'll hate you for that so get on with it and do your worst!"

"You wait, my boy! You'll have such backcombing after this you'll not be able to leave the room!" His crown hair that was about four inches long in those days would look great.

"Next thing, you'll have me sleeping in them, I guess." he chipped back.

"If that's your bag, boy…. You're on…. tonight!" He teased me, so that was a promise!

 

Looking into the mirror, he was forced to watch me wet his top hair and start to roll up the curls that would eventually adorn the style and make it memorable. Only six or seven rollers were needed. They were tight……. so he felt every move. Then I turned the hand drier on to full power and heat – none of the cool and slower drying under the domed hood. This was urgent.

 

The hair cooked quickly, changing colour back from dark to lighter as it dried. It took a few minutes. Soon, I was able to remove the rollers. I did so slowly, looking him in the eyes in the mirror as I did so……… Emphasizing that I was again in total control…….. His eyes were riveted to the image before him. He was deep in thought. His hands continued to stroke the satin of his camisole and he occasionally traced the lacy outline of his bra. Feeling very girly, no doubt.

 

He whispered, slowly and deliberately, "You know you could penetrate me with your cock if you want. I mean, if you want to carry on where we were going… before …….."

"Before you fucked me, you beautiful man!" I interrupted him.

So, he was going for this in a big way. But that wasn't in my plan at all………

"Well, yes, and you must know - er….. I have to say it again…. I'm only interested in you, darling… I'd expect people to say I was homosexual saying you can fuck me but I'm not……. I'm your guy, and your girl, and if that means………" His sentence trailed off. This was serious.

I had to reassure his again about my view of his sexuality.

"You beautiful, beautiful man!!!! I can't imagine fucking anyone else! But for now, you'll do the fucking - or you'll fuck me with our fucker. The one we share."

The curls, no longer in their rollers, lay on his head. I seized one and ran a brush through it from end to end. I held it as high as it would go. Then I took a comb and began to work on it…. back, back, down, down to the root. As it developed into a cloud, I swept it to one side. Grasping a second curl, I did the same, sweeping it to the other side as I finished.

Three, four and five followed. The hair from these needed to be paced and spayed with hairspray before the last two were done. They gave him at least two and a half inches extra height before the curls swept over to make the final silhouette.

Curls six and seven I folded left and right across the front, to make a Sixties "feather style" – less back-combing and more substance to the rolls. I sprayed them and put long hairpins in. If hairstyles had titles, this would be "Touch me if you dare" …. and touch it I would… later!

Throughout, his eyes had been fixed on mine and the way my hands were moving through his hair. He was studying his own image as it changed… from "guy with curls" to "girly". His make-up somehow ensured that the final look was "all girl"…. so different to when I got home. I had, indeed, had an effect. The bright blue slash across his eyelids intrigued me. The black eyeliner only serving to push the blue "in yer face".

My work was complete. My labour of love. I stood back, allowing the folds of my skirt to brush across his satin-covered back. I couldn't resist picking up the straps of his bra and the shoulders of his camisole and sliding my hands on to his shoulders.

"You're really pretty, sitting there, you know." I whispered so quietly he almost didn't hear.

I was falling in love all over again, but this time with a girl….. or a boy/girl if you insist…. This love was as deep as I felt for him when he was "just a boy". Now he had an added dimension which I found immensely attractive. Not just in terms of sex. It was opening a new sphere of caring – caring for another female entity…… The body was the same, but the way it worked was different. His responses to my initiatives when dressed this way seemed to be different to the way we are when we are girl and boy. He, as she, was (and remains) softer and more lovable somehow. I guess I must have changed a lot in those first three days. Maybe I was becoming a lot less soft and lovable. Maybe we'll have to ask him…………

"Touch me if you dare hair" it was and I dared…… I reached up again and let the back of my hand caress his hair where the tighter curls were to be found beneath the crown and above the nape of his neck. Those shoulders were vulnerable. They invited a kiss. The hair was fragrant. It, too, invited me to bury my face within it. I stood behind him/her….. Had I chosen, and had the dildo been to hand, I could have taken him there and then. The temptation to fuck the boy of my dreams was growing stronger and I knew it had to be resisted.

Three days not yet complete but we had travelled miles along my road. I had a feminized husband in the making. How far and how fast to go? At this rate, he'd be living full time as a girl by the weekend! We have to go easy.

I turned him to face me and took one of his hands and pulled it towards my neck. I got him to run it over my smoothed down hair.

"Set my hair for me, please. I want to go curly again. Spiral curls on tiny rollers. You can do it."

This should be a way to give him a different focus. To calm the lust we both were indulging. To give a rest and change direction. To put thoughts of fucking him out of my mind – and his if he were dreaming that way. It was enough to know I could.

"Let me try without instructions first."

"Well, would you mind if I changed before you begin?" I asked, wanting to get into my bedclothes as a prelude to more rampant sex later. I'd choose black, with the red ribbon trimmings and a pair of the highest heels I possessed. "Why not?", he mused…… to which I had no answer.

I was wearing next to nothing so the change took no time at all. Off came my floaty summer dress and there was nothing more to remove. I was naked with only a pair of shoes. These I changed for the high black stilettos and I crossed the bedroom floor to select the nightie from the wardrobe. Indeed, black, lacy and sheer, with red ribbon trimmings it was. A whore's "special" it looked.

Now I was ready to be his whore. But he was still in stockings and suspenders, a bra and camisole.

So, I had to be her whore. After all, why shouldn't lesbians have whores?

"Let's play games!" I said returning to the dressing table…………

The rollers were tiny and they were to be tightly tied. He/she sprayed my hair before taking strands up and on to them. There were dozens. It took rather longer than I expected but the effect was maintained. The eye contact through the mirror was intense and continuous. By the time he was done, with a directional styling pattern that meant the curls would all spiral southwards when unfurled. It was time for another martini…….. and to feed eachother with treats.

He had done as I instructed?, leaving treats around the house for me to find? "Go look for them, now." He/she demanded. In the bedroom, there were few places to hide. I looked through the wardrobes but found nothing – except the idea for what he might dress in later…….. I looked behind curtains and on high shelves, only to find what he'd placed on a side table out of sight from the bed. A plate of ice with four oysters embedded upon it! The food of love – if you don't count music, that is! I had never eaten an oyster whole until that day. Whether they have aphrodisiac properties, I can't say, but we've celebrated special sex days with them ever since. Not martini now – cold, cold chardonnay.

 

As I brought the plate to him, he was again squeezing at his nipples. "Let me try that, please" was all I could say. "Eat an oyster off them then!", he challenged me. So I did.

 

Having eaten the oyster, I turned my lips back to his nipple and gave it a gentle but distinct bite……

"oh, o..u..c..h…!" (again) he said.

"There's more…..", he began. "Oysters?…." I asked. "No, treats…… go find 'em!", he teased.

Not in the bedroom, so where?? I couldn't guess.

"In the bathroom."

I looked everywhere, eventually finding a huge cock-shaped carrot which made me die laughing!!! "Did you say I could have you????" I giggled. "Not with that!", he roared in mock horror.

What would this "lady's whore" be expected to do next, I wondered.

"You'll find some crudités with avocado in the lounge……. I want to lick the sauce from your belly button and you can choose where you lick some from on me." He disappeared…. Where was he going? I went to the lounge as instructed. Where to put the sauce on him????

The "small" of his back, above the "bikini line". That's where my tongue would go! Face down on the floor where a luxurious long rug was laid out.

 

He returned with more of the wine. He sat on the sofa and beckoned me over. "You look wonderful with your hair like that." He said this, admiring his handywork with the tiny rollers that would make my curls….. and make my day! "Yours does too, honey." was my honest reply, looking at my own back-combing skills. Heavens… I was beginning to share this fetish he has for hair, in all its shapes and shades.

 

"Lay down…….", he indicated the sofa…….. And I did. He raised the hem of my nightie so tat my abdomen was his to do with it what he wanted. The vision of his hair, make-up and underwear provoked such confusion in my mind. I knew it was he and yet, he looked even more like she! And then she/he took fingerfuls of the creamy sauce and put it in my belly button. It was cold, having been in the chiller. Involuntarily, I flinched. A shiver spread across my body and tiny goosebumps appeared everywhere! "You make me purrrrrrrrrr!" I said, covering myself in the shock……….. "Do me some more!".

 

Immediately, his face – with its lips shining and its eyes blazing beneath curled and back-combed hair – sank towards my tummy. His tongue emerged between those wonderful lips and I felt on the point of orgasm just looking at him/her. The sauce on his lower back followed with equal impact.

 

 

 

An hour later, having discovered several other delicacies around the house, between intervals of almost casual fucking, we lay back on the bed and talked. It proved to be more sexy than could be imagined. We talked about eachother, and ourselves, and our self-image….. and the confusion we were introducing. A Psychologist would say we were bonding with the past experiments and making them acceptable…. as a prelude to what was to be the way it would be from here on, between us.

"What made you think of us doing this?", he enquired, almost studiously.

"My love of being a girl…… and recognizing that you have this delightful side to your "being" that meant you'd be willing to share it."

"How could you be sure of that?", he said, doubtfully.

"I couldn't – it could've all gone wrong… and it nearly did."

"I can't promise it won't again…. this is wonderful, but it is a bit extreme…..", he confessed.

"OK, if you feel that coming over you, tell me. It'll be alright…. really….. We should do only what we both want to do…… Suggestions welcome of course! We'll ride any storm."

He smiled quietly, as if reflecting on the uncertainty that under-lay his last words….

He would probably break with the whole idea more than once in the days and months to come. What was important in my plan – and this talk was helping to reinforce this – what was important was we could recover. I could still have this vulnerable "girl" in my arms.

"I know it doesn't mean you're gay - I hate that word – you're not going to get carried away and go off hunting men to sleep with. I know that…….." I went on. More reassurance. "I've never understood why a homosexual man would want to shack up with a guy who's special love is cross-dressing. And you're clearly not 'trapped in a man's body' like some TG people say they are. You're just finding out the joys of cross-dressing. It's that simple."

"Mmmmmmmmm…………", he purred, stroking the lace of his bra. His cock rising again.

"So what about you?", my question putting the ball in his court. "What made you receptive to the whole idea?" I would appreciate knowing where to direct further ideas so they'd be acceptable to him/her. "There's been some reluctance, but there's also been a great deal of very willing indulgence!" I smiled lovingly, touching the fringe of his hair and the curls either side of his face.

"Oh, long story – long ago. I've always had this fetish for hair. Ever since college days. Clothes are part of that I guess. Girls' clothes. I've not told you all the details but you know I was heavily involved with one girl then – and several mutual friends. She was 'Ginger' because of her natural hair…… Where you're "auburn" and I love it, she was very 'ginger' and I loved that too."

I knew a bit about that time in his life – I knew he'd cross-dressed briefly – how else did I know that he'd found mascara difficult?! He went on to tell me more and how, some time later, the relationship with Ginger had finished….. and how he had "put the CD idea in its box and (thought he had) thrown away the key."

I wanted him to know – as he surely did – that I wanted him now both as a man and as a woman. For as long and as often as he would be happy.

"Darling, tonight is being wonderful, I know you agree. But you must know that you have the choice – when to be a boy and when to be girly…. I'll say it again. No pressure. I just love you either way – and I love your special 'extra' package that no other girl I know possesses."

He interrupted. "I love it enough to ask if I can have some things of my own…. to keep out in the open, just between us. I don't want anyone else to know – this is private stuff."

 

That was a "crossing point" – into another phase… and far sooner than my plan envisaged! It might have taken three months if I was lucky, I had thought… but three days!!!???

 

"Oooooh! Sure we can – I'd love it if you could - We could go shopping, couldn't we? I enthused.

"Just undies, …and make-up, you know. No outside clothes. I've no need to go out and 'BE' a woman. I want to be a girl just for you!". He was emphatic. His cock was clearly throbbing.

 

This is the way it's to be. WOW! prayers answered, I thought.

 

We lay there, continuing to talk.

"How does it make you feel when you've dressed like this? I'm intrigued to know… because I've felt very different today and I've only been half as far as you have!" I genuinely wanted to know, because there had been an effect on my behaviour today – and all I'd done was wear his jockey pants and a shirt and tie…….. Oh, and I'd done my hair differently, of course.

"Your er... assertiveness… has been a significant part of my acceptance of this." He said, slowly.

"It's brought back memories of the way I did dress when I was mixed up with the girls and the hairdressing. I had to be a girl for a few days. I did have to pass myself off as a girl and I did. That was a very public thing and I wasn't very comfortable all through – it was the "being one of the girls" play-acting that carried me along. They had to have a third girl as a model for the hairstyling… and colouring……. Once I'd begun, there was no way out, without letting them down…… This is different."

"How so? Tell me some more".

He paused, hesitant about how far he should go, I guessed, in revealing his past or his inner-most feelings. "This is different because it's just between you and me. It was so much shared with others before. OK, it was quite intimate with Ginger for a while, but this……… (long pause!) This is something we have started… you and me……… You might seem to be driving things along and I guess I'm grateful for that because I'd not have the courage…………..…"

"Don't worry, baby……. I wouldn't push as hard as this if you weren't so willing….."

His face dropped…… "You don't think I'm being too much of an easy lay in this, do you? Well, I mean, I don't drop my knickers for any girl with a cock between her legs!" And he looked up again, smiling. "I just feel so sexy when you've put these things on me and you've made me capable of doing make-up that transforms me so…. and your piece de resistance is the hair……

I just love the way it feels to the touch…. OK, it's not long enough yet, but I think you've done wonders with what's there………"

YET??!! yes, I heard him right. I think he was hatching plans of his own.

"When you say 'yet', what d'you have in mind, honey?" I probed him…… was it a throw-away line, or did he mean something deeper?

"Did I say 'yet'? … ", he sat back….. "…then I must have meant 'yet'. How long could I grow it before going out would be a problem – given the people we know?

"People are very relaxed about the way we all look. I'd say that a chin-length page-boy bob cut would be good – that would make a short pony-tail and who doesn't have a pony-tail sometime in their lives!? Longer than that….. makes a longer ponytail. I think it should be cut perfectly for a girl's style and whatever pony-tail you have, ….you have!" My thoughts began to run away with what I was saying…. I forgot myself a bit…… Don't go tooo far…. Don't rush him!

 

He went on with his own train of thought….. "You see, I like it dressed as I am round here. And I've no worries about wearing make-up on working days when you're out and about so I look and feel attractive when you get home…… It's the weekends that I'm less able to be confident about. What if people call in unexpectedly?"

 

"You hide." I put it bluntly.

"Exactly,…." , he conjured up a picture in his own mind…… "Frightening!"

 

"Not at all, unless you want to go much further with this…..?" I had to test him out.

 

"No, that's exactly the point. The thought frightens the living daylights out of me – being discovered by anyone else but you." He admitted.

"Tell me more about why this is different, honey." I coaxed him to open up some more.

"Well, it's hard to describe…." I remember this bit very well as I'm writing……. "There's a big part of me wanting to do this, more and more in fact, and there's a little part of me that says it's wrong ……. No, be honest with myself, there's a quite a big part of me says it's wrong. The worry is that I really hope you don't feel this is stealing anything from you – your "self"; the girl in our marriage…….. I mean, there's only room for one woman……. what did Diana say? 'There were three in this marriage and it got crowded', or something…… I really don't want to crowd you in any way………… I'm not stealing your identity… lovely though it is and if I were a girl I'd want to be like you more than anybody else……."

 

Crumbs! Complicated stuff………I had to reflect on what he'd said….. Maybe it was true. What was I doing? Giving some part of myself away???? In giving him this wonderful hairstyle, was

I forcing myself to go "andro"? In giving him a make-up, should I stop wearing cosmetics too? No fear – I wouldn't do that… I love prettying myself up. In letting him "inside my knickers" – quite literally – was I giving him the girl's role?

 

"Absolutely not! ", I uttered, half answering these questions in my own head, and partly saying that he was to be himself – as a girl or a boy…..

Plenty to think about as we drifted off to sleep at last; me in my nightie, him still in his camisole bra, panties, stockings and suspenders. We should have taken off our make-up but neither could be bothered, such was the contentment between us.

 

 

………Chapter 10 follows……

  

  

  

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