Changing Dynamics - 2

If I was cooler or more confident I may have made some type of situation appropriate one liner, like “These are not the droids you’re looking for.” Or replying in a sexily feminine voice, “that’s Goddess.”

Unfortunately, my best response was a startled leap and a high pitched squeal, followed by a barely controlled spin as I turned to face her. I don’t know who’s expression was more shocked at this point, but I know my heart was thumping so hard I could almost hear each heartbeat.

I don’t know how long we stood there like that, me paralyzed in fear and her in total shock…but then she did something I really didn’t expect. She began to giggle uncontrollably. Here I am caught in my worst nightmare scenario and she is laughing.

My panic is abruptly replaced by some combination of embarrassment, shame, self loathing and a bit of anger. Before she has a chance to say or do anything else, I find my voice. “I’ll pack a few things and get a hotel for the weekend.” I say quietly. I am not crying yet, but I have no doubt that as soon as I get away from her mockery I will be.

Before I can make it into the bedroom, she is on me, grabbing me…hugging me. She isn’t laughing any more, she is just holding on. It takes me a minute to realize she keeps saying “its OK, its Ok” trying to comfort me. So here I am, caught well and truly in the most embarrassing situation I have ever known (even worse than that time with my parents) and the woman I well and truly love is holding on to me and telling me she loves me no matter what.

I don’t know how long she held me like that, telling me its alright. Telling me she loves me. Eventually I calmed down and just relaxed in her hug. Before I knew it, she was dragging me into the bedroom and then the night turned from utter disaster into one of the most intense nights of marathon sex we had enjoyed in years.

I woke up sore but refreshed. That had truly been a night worth remembering. It didn’t take long for me to get up, get cleaned up, showered and suitably macho-fied? (as opposed to feminized). Nor did it take terribly long for me to gather up the tattered remnants of my beautiful outfit and (where salvageable) put in the proper bins for laundering and such. Once satisfied that all the bits were in the proper place, I made my way downstairs.

My wife was in the kitchen drinking coffee, and she greeted me with good morning and a kiss. Then she said the four most dreaded words a married person ever hears.

“We Need To Talk.”

NEVER a good conversation starter in a marriage.

It started out about how I expected…the questions. How often do you wear women’s clothing? Why do you wear women’s clothing? Are you attracted to men? Are you attracted to me? (as if that needed an answer given last night)…etc. But then other questions were more unexpected. Would you be happier if you could dress up more? Would you be willing to go out on dates dressed up? (wait…what?) Can we do some role-playing? And on and on. Her enthusiasm was almost manic as she became more and more animated by our conversation. It was almost beautiful how much her excitement seemed to lift a weight off her shoulders and give her renewed life.

After a while she settled down a bit, but then she hit me with the big one. It turns out, my secret fantasy life was a minnow compared to her Moby Dick! After a bit of talking, negotiating even, we came to a compromise. I could dress up as much as I liked…she would even help me get outfits and those other things I was to embarrassed to buy myself. She would be completely loving and supportive as long as I followed certain rules.

1. We would be discrete…outside the house we would be Mark and Andrea.
2. When I was dressed we would be Petra (aka the slutty slave girl, aka Pet) and Mistress Simone.
3. Mistress Simone is always in charge, Petra must obey or be punished.
4. I must promise to always give her many many orgasms when we are playing the game.

In the end I accepted her terms. It wasn’t that hard to agree, after all the game would take our sex life to a whole new level. The fact that I would get to express my inner self freely within the marriage (and did I mention the sex) was a huge selling point. The only thing that made me a bit nervous…that gave me a bit of hesitation was the role I had to play. Could I really enjoy a mistress/slave relationship? Could I enjoy a world where a slave must obey or be punished?

In the end, I accepted her terms…but not just because of the arousal I was feeling the more I thought about things. It wasn’t even the infinite possibilities of wearing beautiful outfits and having kinky sex. No, the biggest reason was the look in her eyes. She appeared both vulnerable and yet very determined. If I know one thing about my wife, when she gets that look in her eyes she is going to get what she wants. I think that when she admitted her desire out loud. When she told me what she wanted (no needed) to feel fulfilled, I knew that this was not just a decision about a game but also about our marriage. Everything about her practically shouted that this game would give her something she had craved for a long time, and if I didn’t accept her terms she would find someone else to play with.

The way she lit up when I accepted her terms was both deeply arousing and slightly depressing. How could I have not noticed such a deep need in my wife for the years we had been married? How could I have not seen just how badly she was hurting, or how much she needed release? Of course my thoughts were rapidly diverted elsewhere when she promised me breakfast and a blow job to celebrate the new chapter in our lives.



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This story is 1086 words long.