Trapped in Femininity

I don't know if I want this? I'm on my back in his large double bed. I taste my smeared lipstick and smell my Eternity perfume. He loves it which is why I wear it.

He looks down at me with an expression of lust and dominance.

"Oh yeah, you've got me so dammed hard. You're perfect. I love fucking you."

He leans in and kisses me as my stockinged legs part to allow his body to press mine into the mattress. His tongue finds mine, and tickles the roof of my mouth. I feel a tingle in my tiny cock.

He sits back on his knees and puts his large hands under my knees. My legs are lifted vertically and I can see my shiny black thigh high boots pointing towards the ceiling. Mathew loves me wearing these. He calls them my "fuck me" boots. My legs do look amazing in them.

Mathew moves forward a little more and supports my knees over his shoulders. I'm careful to avoid my six inch heels catching his back. His large hands are busy now. They pop the fasteners on my lace trimmed cami-knickers.

My manhood falls free. I'm only semi stiff. He doesn't care.

"Mmmm, My kind of woman." He says staring down at me.

Both his hands return to my bare thighs above my stocking tops. My backside is off the bed. It's level with lubricated hole. His hands gradually caress my body through the silk until he reaches my nipples. The feel of the silk rubbing across both nipples draws a gasp from me. I instantly get hard.

Mathew notices.

"Such a girl's reaction. You love me playing with your tits. We will see about getting you a real pair next month.

I'm not sure if I want that, but he loves the idea of me having a set of "D" cup tits.

He grasps both of my buttocks and lifts them toward his twitching cock. In one swift movement he's inside me. Forcing back down into the bed. His eight inches pistoning down into me. I groan and cry out, in pain and pleasure as he drives into me.

I'm being fucked. It's not new to me. He fucks me at least twice a day. This is what he tells me a dutiful wife does. She takes care of her husbands urges. I do enjoy it sometimes, but it's the total power shift. All that happens to me for his pleasure. I spend my day's wearing frilly, sexy underwear because he loves the idea of it.

He wants to feel the lace and silk when he put his hands up my skirt. He loves me to look feminine for him. Most women get to slob out sometimes. Not me. I have forgotten what it even feels like to wear trousers.

His trusting increases. I can feel his cock grazing my prostate. I think I'm going to cum, oh yes a little more. Suddenly I feel him start to release inside me. He cries out and I know it's over. Well at least until tomorrow morning when he will want a "quickie" before going to work.

I undress and go and clean up. When I have changed into my red negligee and knickers I return to bed to find him turned to the wall snoring. I'm not upset as I really don't feel like talking tonight.

I lay awake remembering what led me here.

Mathew was my best friend at school. We met in senior school and had the same taste in music. We used to share CD's and spend hours with each other in his room, copying the tracks we liked.

One week when we were both eighteen his mother and older sister had gone to visit his grandmother. We used to play fight often as boys do. This time we had a tickle fight that ended with him on top of me. I knew it would happen. He was over six foot, I'm five foot six.

As he sat on my groin and tickled me until I cried, I noticed a look in his eyes. Out of nowhere he lent forward and kissed me. I had always fancied him and returned his kiss passionately.

I had never really thought about sex. I liked girls, but I was also attracted to big masculine men. He lifted me up and led me towards his parents double bed. We both stripped and fondled each other.

He went to his mother's top drawer and picked out a black bra and knickers. I couldn't help myself the idea of wearing his mother's clothes felt so naughty. We made love for hours that day.

We carried on like this until I was twenty. I often wore his sister's and sometimes my mother's clothes. A year later I met Sarah at work and fell in love, I realized that what I had with Mathew was just lust.

He took it well, and was even best man at our wedding. When I moved to London we lost touch. I had a new life and new friends. I thought my fling with Mathew was just a blip.

I lived a charmed life for ten years, I was happy. Then one day coming back from a work function Sarah was killed by a hit and run driver. He was caught though CCTV and arrested. His father was a millionaire and one of the policemen had told me he was high on cocaine when he hit my wife. He said his father had friends in high places that he would get off with a large fine.

I had considered suicide, but I wanted revenge. This man had destroyed my life. I would destroy his. I hadn't shaved or washed since she died. So when I went to look for a gun on the streets of Tottenham, I must have looked like a messed up drug addict. The gun cost me three thousand pounds. I didn't care.

My plan worked. I had shaved all over, then dressed in my wife's clothes and put a wig, sunglasses and makeup in a bag. Then I pulled on a pair of track suit bottoms and a hoodie. I went to the library opposite the court and waited in the upstairs window. I waited for him to arrive.

I shot five times and hit him twice. I quickly removed my large hoodie and trousers. Underneath I had a woman's coat and a dress. I put on the wig and glasses, and was running down the stairs screaming when the police came into the building. They quickly evacuated me with rest of the people in library.

A I left I could hear them demand the man in the empty room surrender.

I wandered away to the train station. I had drawn all my remaining money out of the bank and headed to see Mathew. My plan ended there. I would stay with him for a day, then go on the run. I hadn't seen him for years. The last time I spoke to him was five years before. His mother had died and his sister had moved to Canada.

Luckily he was still alone. He had seen the news report and was worried about my being with him. He told me I could stay the night, but must leave I the morning.

He went out to get us a takeaway and return with a case of beer. Four hours later we were both drunk and we realized how much we missed each other. He pushed me back into the sofa and tickled me. We had a repeat of what happened over ten years before.

He went into his sister's room and returned with a pair of knickers she had left behind. The next morning, we both awoke with hangovers. I went downstairs and made breakfast and coffee and took it up to him.

"I could get used to this. Let me run an idea by you Simon."

He told me if I stayed as a man, I may a get caught and implicate him. If I dressed as a woman, and became Simone, I'd be safe as the police weren't looking for a woman. His sister had left plenty of clothes and we could order the rest online. I needed to refine my mannerisms and makeup, but he was sure I'd pass.

I agreed. Now I am in all practical sense a suburban housewife. He likes me to dress in feminine clothing, and wear sexy underwear for him. He wants and expects sex.

I get to wear nice clothes. The housework is fairly easy, so I have time to read and shop. He takes me out a few times a week for meals. I should be grateful. This was a life many women lived.

It's just I don't know if I want this? What choice do I have. If I go back to being a man I would be caught in no time. I enjoyed wearing sexy underwear for sex. Now it was all day. Everyday. Makeup, perfumes, waxing, plucking, and painting my nails.

I don't know what to do.

His arm wraps around me. He tweaks my nipple through my negligee. As he spoons me i feel his hardening cock start to push against my knickers.

Not twice in one night? Surely not?