Nail Polish Pt. 01

Like most massive changes, it all started with a small, innocuous trigger. In my case that trigger was nail polish. I had always been faintly jealous of my wife, Kirsty, and other women who were able to paint their nails, get manicures and nail art. It was such a liberty granted to them that wasn't extended to us men. One day, while idling in a shop waiting for Kirsty, I lingered by the nail polishes. A few caught my eye. A blue blue sky, a sparkly gold and above all a deep, forest green.

I picked up the green and rolled it around in my fingers. It was the colour for pine needles; a splash of colour but dark enough to fall into. On a whim I took it and slipped it into Kirsty's shopping basket. She saw the small bottle and shot me a quizzical look. I didn't have a good reply, so I just shrugged. She cocked an eyebrow, but let it go.

Later that afternoon, when we had returned home Kirsty began unloading her bags. Eventually she pulled out the green nail polish.

"So, what's this all about then?" she asked me, turning the bottle around in her fingers.

I had known the question would come as soon as I had slipped it into the basket. I had tried coming up with some super macho reason why I, a straight man, needed it. Maybe I had some DIY project that needed marking. Maybe I needed to touch up the paintwork on something? Whatever excuse I came up with just rang hollow and stupid. So I did the only sensible thing and just told the truth.

"I got it to paint my nails," I said as nonchalantly as possible while unloading a bag. I avoided looking at Kirsty.

"Okay," She said before pausing. "You know you could have borrowed mine. You didn't have to buy one yourself."

"I liked the colour," I said. I snuck a look at her. She was pulling a face that I couldn't quite read. It certainly wasn't horror or amusement, I knew that much.

"Well, make sure you show me when you paint them," she said, before tossing me the bottle.

It was later that evening when I decided to give it a go. With my tongue sticking out the corner of my mouth, I dragged the green polish across my nails in long sweeps. I managed to get quite a bit of the skin around the nail, but generally I did an okay job. After giving them a blow to make sure they were dry, I held out my hands to admire my work. It looked good. My nails were dark, but simultaneously the most colourful they had ever been.

I found Kirsty in the lounge and held my hands out for her to judge my work. She took my right hand in hers and eyed them critically.

"Not bad. Not bad at all. The colour suits you"

That evening we fucked. As I finished the washing up I felt Kirstie's hands snake around my stomach. When they met in the middle, one veered upwards to my chest. The other reached out and entwined themselves with my hand. She pulled my hand gently back towards her so she could get another look at the nails.

The hand on my chest reversed course and began heading southwards to my navel. Her hand reached the waistband of my jeans, and then burrowed under the denim. I felt the coolness of her hand on the sensitive skin of my dick. I let my head fall backwards onto her shoulder and enjoyed the sensation for a moment. Her hand alternated between stroking and squeezing, and before I knew it i was hard inside her grasp.

Eventually I couldn't stand it anymore. I freed myself from her grip, turned around and took her into my arms. Our lips met and my tongue pushed into her mouth. I slowly began shuffling Kirsty backwards till the backs of her thighs collided with the dining table. My hands set to work on the buttons on her blouse, while her's began to undo my belt.

I finally undid the last button and with a flick of the wrist pulled her blouse from her shoulders. She was wearing a lacy black bra, and the skin on her petite tits began to goosebump.

I didn't have long to admire the view. Kirsty hooked her thumbs into the waistband of my jeans and with one smooth move dropped to her knees and pulled my jeans down at the same time. My boxer shorts bulged obscenely. Eager for what was about to happen, I pulled my underwear down. My cock, hard as an iron bar, sprung forward towards Kirsty's lips.

She leaned forward and gave my cock a long lick from base to head causing a shiver to shoot up my spine. When she reached the tip of my cock, she opened her mouth and enveloped its head. Her warm wet mouth slipped over the skin of my shaft. I moaned in pleasure. My hands lowered and rested gently on her head. Forest green nails poking out from underneath her mousey brown hair.

Kirsty's head began to bob up and down causing me to groan in rhythm. Her eyes flicked up and locked with mine. She barely blinked as the length of my dick disappeared into her. All I could do was pant and groan as I sunk into the wetness of her mouth. The sensation of it was wonderful and agonising at the same time. She was going slowly, maximising the pleasure..

Without warning, the head of my dick popped out from Kirsty's mouth.

"Come with me," she said.

I followed her to our bedroom. I followed her lead and began shedding clothes as we went. By the time we reached our doorway, we were both naked. Kirsty went in and headed straight for the bed. I closed the door behind us. She opened a drawer in her bedside table and pulled out her vibrator and some lube. She rolled back on to the bed and lay with her legs splayed.

I joined her on the bed, crawling between her legs. I was hungry for her. I wanted to be inside her. I wanted to feel the warmth of her flesh engulfing me. Below me she flicked open the bottle of lube with her thumb.

"Give me your hand," she whispered to me.

I didnt respond immediately. The lizard part of my brain was too focussed on pinning her down and pushing myself into her. To fuck her and cum inside her. Eventually the instruction hit home, and I held out my hand. Kirsty tipped the lube up and squeezed some of it into my outstretched palm. She then grabbed her bright pink vibrator and began to squeeze it onto its silicon skin.

"I want you to play with yourself," Kirsty said. "I'm going to fuck myself, and i want you to fuck yourself. Where I can see you," she said as she smeared the lube along the shaft of her vibrator.

I paused to consider what she had asked of me. After a moment of contemplation I pushed myself up from hovering above Kirsty. I fell back into a kneeling position between her legs. My erection jutted up, pointing at the ceiling fan above us.

With her eyes fixed on me I reached down with my slickened palm and grasped my dick. My forest green nails stood out against the pale skin of my cock. Below me, Kirsty had her vibe in one hand while the other gently massaged her left breast.

I began to slowly move. Kirsty had decided she wanted a show so it was only right and fair to give her one. My fist rose to the top of my cock, paused a long languid second, and then slid down to the root with a squelch. I grunted with satisfaction.

After a moment or two of watching me slowly rubbing myself, Kirsty brough her vibrator down and eased it into her pussy. Her back arched ever so slightly as she did so, and her tongue flicked quickly across her wet lips.

With a start, the toy inside of her burst into life, and Kirsty gave a satisfied sigh. Her eyes then fluttered open and locked with mine. She smiled at me, and I smiled back.

The sensation from my dick was becoming harder to ignore. It was rock hard in my hand, its pink hue contrasting with the green of my nails. As my palm slid back down its length an involuntary gasp escaped from me. At its head, a droplet of precum began to form.

My attention turned back to Kirsty. Her eyes were laser focussed on my dick. As she softly whimpered and hissed from the vibrations, her eyes tracked my hand as I fucked myself. It was a strange sensation, her looking at me like that. She had told me how hot she thought I was over the years, of course. But at that moment I felt like an object of desire. I was something that she found not only attractive but actively titillating. Arousing, even. It felt wonderful and electrifying.

I decided at that point to give her a show. I spread my knees and pushed myself a bit higher so that I was more naturally in her eyeline. Not really knowing what to do with my free hand I started running it through my hair; grabbing it and twisting it occasionally.

I started to moan louder and longer as well. Normally I tend to be quiet in bed; a lot of heavy breathing and not much else. That evening I tried to relax. At first it felt awkward and silly being so over expressive but soon I got into it and the gasps, moans and crys began to come naturally.

Kirsty responded well to the show I was trying to put on for her. Her eyes widened and her moans became longer and louder, which spurred me on even more. I wanted her to be absolutely sopping wet for me. I started to put more of my hips into my movement, and started to thrust into my own grip. This produced a guttural growl from me, which in turn tipped Kirsty over the edge. Her entire body seemed to spasm, starting from her hips and spreading outward, while she threw her head back and half moaned / half gasped.

The pace of my wanking slowed as I waited for her to come back down to earth. I could have carried on as I was close to finishing, but I wanted her eyes on me at the grand finale. We had gone this far after all.

Kirsty opened her eyes, and her gaze returned back to me. When I was sure she was back in the room with me, I resumed my show. As i thrusted my cock into my palm and moaned without inhibition I felt my pace pick up.

"Does that feel good?" Kirsty whispered from below me.

"Fuck...yes," was the best i could come up with.

"God you're so hot," she responded.

That was all I needed. I felt every muscle in my pelvis contract and with a roar I came. A massive blast of cum shot out of me and arced onto Kirstys crotch as well as the hand holding the vibrator in place. That in turn tipped her over the edge and she came again for the second time that evening. I was almost bent over double as the shockwave of my climax rippled through me. A stream of semen flowed out of me, over my knuckles dripped down onto the sheets. I felt exhausted, elated and deeply satisfied. Below me, the pearly white of my seed stood out in stark contrast to the green of my nails.

Later that evening, we lay in bed. I lay on my back and in the yellowy light projected in by the streetlight outside, I looked at my pretty nails. They were dark against the paleness of my skin.

"How long have you wanted to paint your nails for?" said Kirsty, making me jump. She lay on her side facing me.

My initial reaction was to lie or make up some silly excuse, that that soon passed. What would be the point? She clearly wasn't disgusted by the situation, after all.Why not give radical honesty a chance?

"A while. Always, really. I always wondered what it was like to have pretty nails. I remember at school seeing all the girls nail varnish and being jealous that i couldn't paint my nails"

We lay in silence for a moment. Kirsty continued to look at me. I turned my head to look at her.

"I'm glad I did it. You don't get many opportunities as a man to be pretty. Sometimes I want to be pretty," I said. "Is that weird for you? If it is, just tell me and I won't do it again."

"I like your nails," she replied after a moment. "You should try some other colours. Blues and reds."

One more we lapsed into silence. An anxiety that had lurked in the pit of my stomach disappeared.Not only did Kirsty not object, she approved. That was good.

"Is there anything else you would like to try?" she said. "To feel pretty?"

The question lingered in the air. I didn't really know what to say to that. Wearing the nail polish had been such an achievement that I hadn't really considered what came after. What else did I want to try? What else had I always been jealous of women being able to have that I didn't?

Kirsty must have misinterpreted my quietness. She shuffled closer to me and rested her head on my chest. She reached up and took my hand in hers; our painted nails and fingers entwined.

"Eye shadow," I said after a while. "And lipstick. Colour. I want colour. And not just dark blues, greys and blacks. Bright, loud colours."

"Colour," Kirsty parroted back to me. Half confirmation, half question.

"Oh, and this," I said, running a hand through the feeble patch of chest hair I had. "I want to get rid of this."

"So you want to be smooth and colourful?"

"Yes," I said. "I want to be smooth and colourful and beautiful"

Kirsty released my hand and rolled over onto her front. Resting on her elbows, she gently kissed me.

"Is there something you want to tell me? Something...big?" she asked me; a carefully arranged look of neutrality on her face. I immediately got what she was aiming at.

"I'm happy being a man. I think. I just..." I trailed off, giving a vague wave of a hand. Kirsty carried on looking at me intensely.

"...I just wish the borders of masculinity were a bit broader."

Kirsty kissed me again. A long slow kiss.

"Okay," she said after finally breaking off our liplock. "Well if the situation changes, you let me know."