Her New Husband
Description
A woman is dissatisfied with her sex life with her sissy husband so decides to hire an escort to act as her new husband and cuckold her sissy in the process. The story is about 27,000 words.
Excerpt:
It might have started as my thing, but given that we were looking at websites made it her thing, too. I looked back at the computer screen, just to look away from her. 'Rent A Husband—Providing A Woman Everything She's Missing In Her Marriage.' What was Karen missing? What couldn't I offer her? Lot's of things, I knew, like masculinity, strength, vitality—sexually at least, and that 'alpha' essence that made women swoon.
"Not to mention the other things that go through that little…sissy mind of yours.” She paused before she said it, giving the word all its dramatic effect.
"Karen!" She knew my love/hate relationship with that word. Yes, I was effeminate, fine, fine, and yes, I had a little thing for dressing as a woman.
Okay, a big thing, a very big thing, unlike that other thing of mine, the real 'little thing' the one between my legs, which was often the genesis of my cuckolding fantasies.
"You know, I'll never quite understand why sometimes that word bothers you so much but other times it gets you so…you know, excited," she said with a wink.
"I…it's just…sometimes you say it like…like it's my fault, Karen.”
"Well it's certainly not my fault that my husband likes to dress up as a girl…something you were apparently doing long before you knew me.”
"I didn't ask to be like this, Karen!"
"No, I understand that, I’m not saying you did. But I didn't ask to learn after I got married that my husband likes to wear lingerie, or that when we made love he fantasized about me getting fucked by someone else like I was a common whore. Yet here we are, dear. I’m not saying I’m not interested in some of it, but we got here because of you, not me.”
I was outright sulking now and she saw it, but let me dangle for a moment. I suppose I deserved it, Karen was right, I may never have been the picture of masculinity before we got married, but she honestly never suspected the truth. Just like she never realized, before we almost divorced, how peculiar my fantasies were. There’s a big difference, she would tell me, from being not very masculine to liking to wear women’s clothes. There was a difference from being perceived as effeminate to actually being effeminate.
"Listen,” she said, "this isn't supposed to turn into an argument. I long ago accepted that you had this other side of you, didn't I?"
"Yes."
“I think I’ve been more than accommodating with our arrangement.”
“You have.” The arrangement? Simple. She didn’t want to know about my cross-dressing, she wanted no part of that part of me, she had no interest in seeing me dressed like a woman. She liked my “softer” personality, my ability to express my feelings, other things that came from the blurring of genders inside me, but she didn’t want anything more.
"So," she pointed to the laptop, "what's wrong with this, then?”
"I don't know, maybe…maybe this isn't exactly what I had in mind."
"Not what you had in mind? Like the fantasy—like you didn't fantasize about cuckolding, or the reality, that you don’t really want it to happen?”
Excerpt:
It might have started as my thing, but given that we were looking at websites made it her thing, too. I looked back at the computer screen, just to look away from her. 'Rent A Husband—Providing A Woman Everything She's Missing In Her Marriage.' What was Karen missing? What couldn't I offer her? Lot's of things, I knew, like masculinity, strength, vitality—sexually at least, and that 'alpha' essence that made women swoon.
"Not to mention the other things that go through that little…sissy mind of yours.” She paused before she said it, giving the word all its dramatic effect.
"Karen!" She knew my love/hate relationship with that word. Yes, I was effeminate, fine, fine, and yes, I had a little thing for dressing as a woman.
Okay, a big thing, a very big thing, unlike that other thing of mine, the real 'little thing' the one between my legs, which was often the genesis of my cuckolding fantasies.
"You know, I'll never quite understand why sometimes that word bothers you so much but other times it gets you so…you know, excited," she said with a wink.
"I…it's just…sometimes you say it like…like it's my fault, Karen.”
"Well it's certainly not my fault that my husband likes to dress up as a girl…something you were apparently doing long before you knew me.”
"I didn't ask to be like this, Karen!"
"No, I understand that, I’m not saying you did. But I didn't ask to learn after I got married that my husband likes to wear lingerie, or that when we made love he fantasized about me getting fucked by someone else like I was a common whore. Yet here we are, dear. I’m not saying I’m not interested in some of it, but we got here because of you, not me.”
I was outright sulking now and she saw it, but let me dangle for a moment. I suppose I deserved it, Karen was right, I may never have been the picture of masculinity before we got married, but she honestly never suspected the truth. Just like she never realized, before we almost divorced, how peculiar my fantasies were. There’s a big difference, she would tell me, from being not very masculine to liking to wear women’s clothes. There was a difference from being perceived as effeminate to actually being effeminate.
"Listen,” she said, "this isn't supposed to turn into an argument. I long ago accepted that you had this other side of you, didn't I?"
"Yes."
“I think I’ve been more than accommodating with our arrangement.”
“You have.” The arrangement? Simple. She didn’t want to know about my cross-dressing, she wanted no part of that part of me, she had no interest in seeing me dressed like a woman. She liked my “softer” personality, my ability to express my feelings, other things that came from the blurring of genders inside me, but she didn’t want anything more.
"So," she pointed to the laptop, "what's wrong with this, then?”
"I don't know, maybe…maybe this isn't exactly what I had in mind."
"Not what you had in mind? Like the fantasy—like you didn't fantasize about cuckolding, or the reality, that you don’t really want it to happen?”
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