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The thing about being married is that life really isn’t easy. It’s a matter of diplomacy most of the time and, yes, diplomatic relations sometimes break down. Under normal circumstances it’s not often a positive sign but I’ve since discovered that in my own realm it really can be a revelation. At the beginning of my wedded life this was not so conspicuously obvious but as time went on and as marriage posed its usual problems and inevitable hurdles, things changed. And not in a way my wife would have appreciated. But in my world marriage offered up new opportunities and I seized them with all the hunger of a man denied the endless possibilities dictated by the social norms of his upbringing. Standard procedure when things get a bit bumpy is that you fix them. That’s the decent way and I adhered to it avidly during the first few years with Sandy, my pretty and rather sexy wife. We got hitched when I was 32. Four years my junior I had initially become mesmerized by her at an informal dinner party my various friends and I used to give once a fortnight. A tall, slim brunette with beautiful long legs she tantalized me for months with her short skirts and body-fitting blouses which showed off her tidy ass and small but firm breasts. It took some time and numerous dinner parties before I ever had the chance to ask her out. When I did, things just clicked. We didn’t move in with each other for over a year. When we did, it was tough since I had always been known as, and felt like, the eternal bachelor. These final 12 months living on my own allowed me to stray on a few occasions with other women but while there was satisfaction, it singularly proved short-lived. All of these dalliances were with women who looked just like Sandy with similar figures and similar looks. None could match up though. We eventually tied the knot. I won’t hide the fact that the initial period of co-habiting was difficult. It was excruciatingly awful at times but making up seemed to make things better. It seemed to make us stronger. It was at these moments when we really discovered each other sexually. It was as if we had been through such trauma that we were permitted to let ourselves go and to explore each other without inhibition. Those times were great but there are fewer of them now. I can’t and don’t blame her. You see, I found a new outlet for my frustrations or, rather, let’s say, I discovered a new outlet for dealing with matters which allows me to think of something aside from domestic issues. Sandy is a secretary with a secure job and I’m a would-be journalist who’s had little success. Still waiting vainly for the big break I suppose. Anyway while she’s at her 9 to 5 job I find myself roaming around the house finding any excuse not to sit down at my desk. So I do the washing up, the tidying, vacuuming isvecbahis and the laundry, just like a house husband. I hated these chores. It wasn’t until I was doing the washing one day that my life changed. Sandy always insisted that I separate the whites from the colours so this particular day as I was making two piles I noticed that the whites pile consisted mainly of her knickers, bras and those sexy leggings that she often wore. What made me pay attention to this I can’t say but it certainly got my attention. I picked up a pair of her simple white panties, turned them inside out and looked properly for the first time at the crotch stain. Where once it had been moist it had now hardened. I lifted it to my nose and breathed in. It was magical. Sweet yet not. I couldn’t put my finger on it but one thing was sure, it stirred something in my boxers. Something told me I was bordering on being a pervert but, ignoring that, I kept going. What would it be like to put the panties on? I had taken the first step, why stop now. The laundry has no windows so I was safe. Sandy was at work. Who’s going to walk in? Feeling like a deviant I dropped my jeans and boxers to the floor and slipped the simple white panties on. It took a minute to adjust myself to the new fit but I liked the feel. It’s hard to describe precisely what I felt but it was liberating. Compared to my own underwear it was light, comfortable and, above all, sexy. I looked down at myself and saw a pronounced defined bulge which showed off the contours of my hardening dick. Unlike my own baggy boxers, these panties kept my cock pointing downwards with no room to move. It was pushing the crotch away from my body so I spread my legs and pushed it back, along with my balls, between my thighs before closing the gap again. Jesus, it looks like I have a pussy, I thought to myself and that sent me over the edge. Such a sensation was new to me. I felt sexy, not in a butch way, but in a gentle, feminine and soft way. It felt so good. I ran my hands over the front of the panties and imagined I was touching myself as a woman. I closed my eyes and reached under my shirt to fondle my nipples as the other reached around to feel my ass. In a matter of seconds I was standing in only a pair of my wife’s underwear pulling out a bra, blouse and a pair of those sheer white leggings from the pile. I took my time getting dressed, wanting to savour every minute but still eager to look at myself in the mirror. Apart from the bra everything felt so comfortable and warm against my skin. I was in such a state of arousal that I ran from the laundry to the bedroom. Closing the curtains I turned on the light and admired the reflection in the mirror. I looked hot and took pleasure in the prettiness of the vision before me. Nothing in my life isveçbahis giriş had prepared me for this moment. The endless possibilities rushed into my head but I quickly realised there was only one thing I really wanted. Over the next few days I repeated my actions but improved on them each time. I started by trimming my pubes so nothing would stick out the side of my panties and even used my wife’s hair removal cream to take care of the hair from my balls to my anus. By the time I was finished this area was silky smooth and very sensitive to the touch. The enjoyment of looking girly was turning me on so much that I thought about using make-up but was sure that if I used Sandy’s she would notice. So for the first time in my life I left the house wearing soiled panties and a pair of my wife’s pantyhose, covered up by my habitual jeans. It felt so taboo and unless I got knocked over by a bus, it would be just me who knew my dirty little secret. Even though I was a bit scared venturing out of my comfort zone, the feeling was delicious. In order to avoid meeting anyone I knew on my clandestine shopping trip I took the safe option and decided to go a bit further afield to a mall about 30 miles away. There was less of a chance of being spotted. All the way there I was getting more and more excited but also more and more nervous. I wasn’t sure if I could go through with it. What if I get caught? How would I ever explain it to my wife? I could never expect her to understand or even accept what I was doing. And frankly I would never be able to look her in the eye again. As I was mulling these thoughts over in my head I suddenly found myself in the cosmetics department. I also realised that my knickers had bunched at the back and were now stuck in my crack. It felt so hot and was also a good reminder of why I was here. The problem though with these places is that you can’t browse without being accosted by a, more-often-than-not, salesgirl. Getting this far was one thing but having to tell somebody what I wanted was yet another, and all the while pretend it most certainly wasn’t for me! To my utter surprise the first person to come up to me was a small Asian guy of about 20 with a walk that was more suited to a catwalk. His hips swung as he approached me and while he began to smile at his potential new customer I noticed he sneaked a furtive glance at my groin. I have to admit I was a little turned on by this; it wasn’t every day that another man gave me that kind of attention. Damn it what do I do? How do I play this? Not one thing had I thought through. Here I was trying to advance my sissy perversion and I was faced with one of those weird situations that life throws your way. “Hi”, he said. “Hey. Em, I’m looking for some simple make-up…..for a play I’m in……Pygmalion”, I added. isveçbahis yeni giriş He looked at me with a smile. “Sure”, he replied knowingly, “I can help you there. You’ve come to the right place. Philip’s my name and I can assist you with whatever you need.” He played the game like a pro but by the time he had finished selling me cosmetics I felt that making myself up might be more time-consuming than my wicked desires could bear. “Which part in the play do you have?” I couldn’t remember Eliza Doolittle’s name so I had to improvise. “Em, just an extra…..one of the promiscuous street types”, I replied. “It’s an amateur dramatic society so we have to provide our own stuff.” I added for no reason at all, “I even have to get my own dress.” “Well, that sounds like fun,” he said. “You’ll need to feel comfortable with all that on. Do you need any underwear for the part?” he asked without missing a beat. “As a personal shopper I can bring you anywhere in the store.” He was complicit, I knew, but I still had doubts. Hell, I’d gone this far already. “What a good idea, why not.” With an about turn he commanded, “Follow me.” I did as I was told as he led me up two floors. It was hard to take my eyes of his skinny little butt. He moved like a woman in men’s clothing and there was no doubt at all about his sexuality. It was hard to admit it to myself but I found him cute. His knowing looks, his understanding of my needs and his willingness to please were all a big turn-on. Not to mention that he was about to confidently sell women’s underwear to another man. I was a novice in the presence of one who truly wasn’t. When we arrived on the second floor he asked me out of the blue if I knew what kind of panties I liked. A bit too quickly I told him briefs and boyshorts, thinking of my wife’s which I had already sampled. Nothing too slutty. And white. He didn’t need to ask my size. Firstly I had no idea of women’s sizes and secondly he had already sized me up enough to already know. I was told to wait over by the changing rooms and he would be back in just a few minutes. Doing as I was told I couldn’t help but take in the selection of clothing along my short trip. Men don’t have that much to choose from, I thought. Lucky girls, I thought to myself. It wasn’t hard to see how they could begin to seduce a man. My mind began to wander but was quickly brought back to the present by the sight of Philip with an armful of clothes. He must have had a dozen pairs of knickers and a handful of skirts with him. “The store doesn’t allow people to try on underwear so I brought a few skirts and blouses too so we can probably get away with it,” he said quietly. We? What did he mean by “we can probably get away with it”? It didn’t matter because I couldn’t wait to try on some undies that were going to be my own and not soiled seconds. Philip then proceeded to a door just beside the public changing rooms. An ordinary door which could have led to an office or a stairwell. “This is our fitting room for preferred customers,” he said.
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