I guess like a lot of guys my college years were marked by chance occasions with other men. Awkward glances in the lavatory turned to smiles, which then turned to more than that. Often these trysts were consummated in the bathroom stall, Occasionally they would drift back to a dorm room or apartment, but never did these entirely sexual encounters lead to anything I considered a relationship. So it is not surprising that I never considered myself to be gay. Certainly, I had never had a revelation, or any moment of seeing the light, where I knew I liked men, as many of my gay friends have suggested should happen. My attraction towards women never wavered. The sex I had with men was entirely separate from the sex I had with women. It was almost as though I were two separate people, a strong dominant top with my girlfriends, and a submissive, girly, little thing with the men I met in bars, restrooms and us station platforms. I thought I was free to choose between men and women as I saw fit. Seeing the difficulties my gay friends had with their lives, I chose women. When I met a wonderful woman, I decided to marry her, and live a life that the outside world would see as normal.
Our married life was pleasant enough. I loved my wife a great deal, and we communicated well, always doing our best to resolve issues in the relationship before they grew out of hand. I trusted my wife with some pretty intimate details about myself, but still, I kept my biggest secrets from her. I never divulged the details of my college trysts, and I certainly never explained to her what turned me on about being with a man. I guess its nothing special – a lot of men have sex with other men and likewise have great and satisfying sex with women too. I admit it though, I was embarrassed by my urges. I was embarrassed, because when I was with another man, I wanted more than anything to act like a girl.
Our first year of marriage was normal enough. As newlywed elation drifted into the routine of daily life, I found myself thinking of my old fuck buddies, and how I wouldn’t mind having a go every now and then. I repressed most of these thoughts. I didn’t want to jeopardize my marriage, and didn’t want to do anything that would put my wife at a health risk. For all I knew, my secret would be safe forever.
It was around this time that I started having fantastically vivid dreams at night. In these dreams I was a wife or a stripper or especially a young college co-ed. The girl I was in my sleep was like my alter ego. She was strong and clever, with a quick wit and a wicked tongue.
I thought I could go on like this, if not forever, then at least for the foreseeable future. Little did I know I had been talking in my sleep.
My wife and I had a mutual friend, Eric. Eric worked as a fundraiser for the large charities of our city. This was the perfect job for him as his powerful charm, imposing presence, height and masculine build lent him an air of total authority. It was easy to see how Eric charmed old society women into writing large checks for whatever cause or artistic endeavor he was pushing at the moment.
My wife and Eric had been spending an inordinate amount of time with each other that season. My wife was putting together her notes for a biography she was working on, and Eric was helping her target those notes towards potential publishers and charitable foundations. It was not unusual for me to come home from work to find them hunched over the coffee table studying old manuscripts and sharing inside jokes. Often my wife and he would put their work aside and the three of us would spend long hours talking and laughing, drinking coffee and flirting with each other in a ever increasingly ambiguous way. I became a little uncomfortable with the number of late evenings Eric was spending at our house, but put these thoughts aside. A relationship is nothing without trust after all. More than that, I could not deny to myself the increasingly erotic feelings I was experiencing as I observed my wife’s closeness with this man. I found myself dreaming of them together, of her kneeling in front of him with his large cock in her mouth. In these dreams he was laughing at me, telling me to get on my knees to watch my wife up close. I often woke from these dreams with a start, the image of Eric’s hard penis burned in my memory.
One evening I returned home from work to find them already slightly drunk. My wife’s face was flushed, and one of the straps of her dress had fallen off her shoulder. To my sober eyes, it seemed as though the hem of her baby doll was worked a little too far up her smooth thigh and unusually bunched around her crotch. I stood in the doorway absorbing the moment. Eric, and my wife stared blankly at me, their eyes a little glazed from the gin they had consumed, as the silence began to consume us.
“Darling, you’re home! Well don’t just stand there, come and have a drink with us.” Smy wife finally said patting the couch between her and Eric. I didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, I knew I had just caught them in the midst of an affair, on the other, my wife looked so beautiful, and Eric so handsome, I admitted to myself that the thought of them together was making me aroused. I figured there would be enough time to untangle this mess in the morning. In the meantime I would sit, let my wife pour me a drink and wait to see what would unfold.
The three of us all readily drank, and my wife ensured our glasses were never empty. Her behavior grew more and more provocative, and Eric seemed to revel in manly control of the situation. He reclined on the couch and draped his arm behind me and my wife. The ambiguous flirting became intense and I felt myself grow more and more shameless. I was acting coy, impetuous and cute. In a word, I found myself acting more and more girly as the night wore on.
“All right” my wife said. “Enough joking around. All this liquor has gone to my head. It’s time for some fun. I want to reveal my sexual fantasies.”
I was too drunk to be shocked really, but I was surprised. My wife was an extremely open and sensual, but she always maintained her decorum among company. The way she had said ‘sexual fantasies’ with her mouth open an her wet lips pouting left no doubt as to the fact that she intended to live them out after she revealed them. Eric and I waited in anticipation.
“I have always wanted to watch two guys get it on. You know – Fucking. There I said it.”
“Oh, come on!” I exclaimed. “Just what are you trying to drum up here.” I protested falsely.
“Don’t play stupid with me.” She said. “I hear you talking in your sleep. Eric, would you like to know what my husband really wants? Would you to know what he really fantasizes about?” Eric was grinning in a bemused sort of manner. It was clear that he already knew what she was going to say. He shrugged, the humiliation was for my benefit and my benefit alone.
“My husband wants to be a girl! What do you think of that? But even better, my husband wants to be your girl.” With that she picked up my hand and to my amazement placed it on Eric’s lap.
The surprising thing was that Eric’s penis was hard. My wife was really drunk, and I could tell she was turned on to the point of desperation. She whispered in my ear. She started cooing about how much I wanted it, and how it was OK, how she was dying to see me do it. Then she unzipped his pants and started pushing my head towards his cock, and I couldn’t resist.
I was in. I had gone since college without a man, and I just needed to suck on that cock. Eric was really into it, his cock got fully hard almost immediately and I bobbed my head up and down on it greedily. I was surprised how quick the whole thing went. Eric grabbed my head, holding me by the hair, arched his hips and came in my mouth. I looked up licking my lips.
“That was fun.” I said a little drunkenly. Not knowing what to expect.
“Oh no!” my wife yelled. “You think you’re gonna get away that easy. You think you can just tramp around like a little cock sucking whore, and get away with it? Eric read this.” She said handing him that week’s copy of ‘The New Yorker’.
“You little girl . . . You are coming with me.” she said leading me into the bathroom, by the hand.
She told me she had figured out that I was a sissy by the way I always read her fashion magazines. When she had discovered her panties missing, it confirmed her suspicion. She had decided to give me a treat, she was going to treat me like the bitch that I was. I had to admit that she was right. Drunk as I was, I didn’t have I in me to protest. She was right, I did always wish I was a woman. I desperately wanted to be, I mean it would be so much fun to flirt and tease. I’m not very big, I’m only 5’7″ 128 lbs., I’m very thin and androgynous looking. I have almost no body hair, and I enjoy wearing my strait black hair long, almost cut in a girlish bob. I can pass for either a man or a woman depending on my dress, but I’ve never really tried to look like a woman outside of the house. It is obvious to almost everyone who meets me what a sissy I am. Even my wife is stronger than me.
She started taking outfits from her Armoire, singing out to Eric “Oh you’re going to love her in this one.” She did ask me which outfit I liked best, but it was clear my feeling didn’t matter. She had it thought out, she knew what she wanted me to wear.
She put me in a little, black, pleated mini-skirt. It certainly wasn’t skin tight, but it was definitely on the short side. I was the type of skirt a woman wears when she wants to show off her ass when she beds over. She had me put on white lacy panties and garters and white ribbed cotton stockings and these Catholic girls school shoes she had bought at the thrift store. On top I wore a tight youth size T-shirts with a star on it so I could feel how hot it felt to wear a tight shirt. Over that I put on a black cotton button up sweater.
By this point, drunk and turned on, I did feel like the little my wife wanted me to be. Needless to say we were drinking gin this whole time and laughing, and my wife was cooing about how pretty I looked any how she wished she was a guy so she could fuck me herself. I was trashed and totally uninhibited and to be truthful I really wanted to get fucked like I was a woman by that big stud in the living room. I mean he was big, and I wanted him, there was no way around the feelings. My wife must have seen me looking at him, as his framed filled the bathroom doorway because she slapped me.
“Not yet you little slut, I haven’t done your makeup or your hair yet.” All I could do was smile like a little tramp.
My wife sat me on the toilet bowl and pushed back my head , she pulled my hair into little pig tails, and started painting my face, It felt so sexy, I can’t describe it.
On my lips she put cheap, pink, lip balm, the kind a thirteen year old girl would wear. On top of it, she rolled “kissing potion” a glossy lip product marketed to junior high school girls. When she was finished my lips looked shiny, full and wet. She painted my eyes with a silvery eye-shadow, with some hints of dark, and a thick black liner around my eyes. On my cheeks she applied only blush. She didn’t need any foundation as I am naturally pretty fair skinned with out a lot of facial hair. As I had just shaved that morning, I didn’t have any hair to hide.
We were giggling and having a ball and my wife was helping me use my voice to sound like a real girl instead of a cheap, male imitation of one. When I looked in the mirror, I a great deal like a woman. I had to admit there was something sexy, even hot about me, even though my chest was a bit flat. Eric stumbled into the bathroom, staring as much at my wife, her tank top barely concealing her large firm tits, as he was looking at me. To my amazement, he was also looking at me.
I walked over to him and put my arms around his neck. He was so much bigger than me. I lifted one leg, bending it at the knee like a woman would. I really felt sexy. I felt like I was a cute women from the fashion magazines. My wife was taking pictures, and she looked at me as if to say ‘There’s no turning back now’. I didn’t want to turn back. I licked my lips and waited for him to kiss me. I felt vulnerable, like a sixteen year old girl. I wanted to loose my girly virginity but I was still a little scared.
Eric held me with those huge strong arms, pulling me to him, his desire rising in him. I felt his hard cock growing and pressing into my stomach. He went to kiss me, but I said, “Stop.” My wife and he looked at me, puzzled. “I don’t want you to mess up the make up”. I said giggly nervously.
Eric pushed me to the floor. I bent down on my knees feeling the bathroom tile through my stockings, I could only look up at the big stud with wide eyes my freshly painted lips pouting and waiting. My wife was watching. I could tell she was feeling edgy, and she started to touch herself through her jeans. I knew I was about to get what I had wanted for a long time.
“Take my cock out, pussy boy.” Eric said, and I obeyed. I unzipped his pants, removing his thick, meaty penis. His dick was half full with blood, heavy and hardening in my little girly hand. I eased my little fist around his thick shaft easing the flesh up and down over the bone. His pink mushroom head was right in front of my lips, and I couldn’t take my eyes off its beautiful shape. I wanted it too badly. I needed to have it, to play with it like a girl would, and to be played with as only a girl can, by the man who owned it. I wrapped my pink painted lips around that beautiful cock, loving the feeling of that piece of meat in my mouth, the feeling of a man fucking my little faggot face. I blinked my eyes as I looked obediently up at Eric, his cock filling my mouth, stretching my lips. I was his girl to use.
I’m getting hard right now thinking about it, but at the time my little girly dick was rigid against the sharp lace of my panties. I felt joyful like a whore who needs cock and has just been allowed to play with the boys for the first time. I wanted to get dirty, and get used like the little pussy I was. Eric started to moan. I was sucking him good, running my tongue over the sensitive underside of his cock head, softly stroking his balls with my left hand and working his shaft with my right.
My wife said, “Don’t let him cum, you sissy faggot. I want you to get fucked. Don’t you want to get fucked like the little panty bitch that you are?”
To be honest, I hadn’t really considered letting a guy fuck me until that moment. Sure I had fucked around with men before but it had always been limited to a few hand-jobs and lots of fellatio. As the fun had started that night, I thought I would dress up, suck his cock, and that would be it all. I my mind, I hadn’t envisioned my ass getting fucked. With the idea planted in my mind, I found myself blushing because more than anything I realized, I wanted Eric’s hard cock in my ass.
I knew I had been kidding myself when I got married. I thought I was a man, but my wife had made me see just what a little, sissy, cock-sucking, bitch I really was. From now on I would be used by men. I would exist to suck cock and get fucked, and that’s how I wanted it. I wanted to get fucked like a bitch, have my little pink perfect asshole used like it was a pussy. Right then, I wanted Eric to fuck me and call me the names I deserved to be called; whore, tramp, slut, faggot cock-sucker, sissy, pussy – Bitch. I was all those things, and I liked the feeling. I couldn’t wait for him to slap my ass and use for his pleasure.
My wife instructed my to get on the bed on all fours and stick my ass in the air, she was really hot, stripped down to her panties and tank-top. She had one hand jammed against her pussy, as she massaged the cheeks of my ass with the other,. I heard her voice coo what a nice little girl I was, what a pretty ass I had. Almost brutally, she pulled my white, lacy panties to my knees. I was constrained by them, my panties stretched against my knees, but still my ass was bare and open. My wife scraped her finger nails across my balls giving me a chill throughout my body.
“You’re gonna get fucked now little girl, and your gonna love it!” My wife whispered in my ear, still touching her clit with her free hand.
She pulled the cheeks of my ass apart and put a drop of spit on her finger ramming my little virgin ass-hole with it, getting me ready for my man. Meanwhile Eric was getting impatient. He started saying how bad he needed to fuck my tight little ass, how he wanted to split my “cunt” in two. This time I was shocked. I knew Eric was going along with our fun, but I never expected him to speak like that. I started to get a little scared. I thought I might be in over my head, but I knew there was no backing out at this point.
My wife loved me, but she was so turned on, she would let Eric rape me against my will before she would call her fun off. Even though I was frightened I didn’t want it to end. I felt so horny on the bed, spread out on all fours with my sexy ass in the air, that big man about to fuck me like a girl! I couldn’t help it I started wiggling my ass like a cunt, begging for Eric’s cock despite my wife being there.
“Please fuck me!” I begged, “Please give me that big hard cock in my hole, I’m such a bad girl, I deserve it.” I said, giggling at how absurd I must sound. My wife was too turned on to laugh. Her panties were off now, and she was touching her little trimmed pussy. She started to yell.
“Yes you little bitch, you want get fucked like a girl, you want that big cock in your ass. I thought I married a man, but what I really married is a little fucking, fagot, pussy-slut of a girl. God you bitch, take your hands and spread those ass cheeks of yours. Beg that stud to fuck you like a woman.”
And I did, my face pressed into the bed as I held my ass apart, desperate, almost crying to be fucked.