I received the shock of my life last year. I had been away for the week on business and planned on extending my trip through the weekend to visit a friend. Unfortunately, she came down with the flu, so I had to cut my trip short and decided to fly home on Friday. On my way to the airport, I tried to call my husband, Sam, to tell him about the change in plans, but I wasn’t able to catch him at home to ask for a pickup. Instead of leaving a message on the machine, I decided I’d take a cab.
I arrived home in the early evening and found the house totally dark. I let myself in the front door and took my suitcase to the bedroom. Sam was nowhere to be found. I hadn’t actually expected him to be there, since it was the weekend and he knew I wasn’t due home until Sunday. Deciding to catch up on the laundry, I unpacked my luggage, gathered up my unmentionables and headed down to the basement. When I got there and flicked on the lights, I jumped and gasped in surprise.
There in front of me was a womanly figure securely tied to a support column in the middle of the room. She wore a long-sleeved, knee-length black dress, black hosiery and black high heels. She was connected to the pole at her ankles, knees, waist and torso, held fast by lengths of white rope that stood out sharply against her all-black attire. She had a gag in her mouth and was blindfolded. My initial thought was that some creep had abducted a woman and broken into our house. I approached her to unfasten her bonds and find out what had happened. But when I got closer, I realized it was Sam!
Sweat was running down his forehead, which streaked his mascara and makeup. I pulled the gag from his mouth and blurted out, “What the hell is going on?”
Sam’s face was beet red as he began to stutter an incoherent explanation. As he stammered, I looked around the room and saw his open army trunk, which was stuffed with dresses, undergarments, high heels and wigs. I had not only been married to a cross-dresser for the past ten years, but one who liked being in bondage, too.
I turned my attention back to Sam. His wrists were shackled behind his back with handcuffs, which had a string attached to them. The string ran down into a half-gallon milk jug and was connected to the key for the cuffs, which was embedded in a block of ice. Apparently, while I was away on business, he’d taken to entertaining himself by playing self-bondage games. I checked the status of the melting ice and figured he would be incapacitated for at least another hour.
I needed a little time to process all of this information, so without a word I headed back upstairs. While I came to terms with these revelations, the ice would have a chance to melt. I made myself a drink and considered all that I’d seen. Sam did transform into a lovely woman. After all, he’s only five-foot-seven and slim, and his facial features are rather feminine. Despite this kinky bombshell, I’d always considered Sam a good, gentle person who worked hard and had always been respectful of me. Wanting to learn more, I pulled out my laptop and researched cross-dressing on the Internet. I decided that while his fetish was a little unusual, maybe I could make it work to my advantage.
I headed downstairs and released my husband, telling him to take a shower and meet me in the kitchen. He appeared a short while later, looking contrite as he took a seat at the table. I’m sure he was expecting me to scream and yell. However, I totally surprised him when I told him to get dressed in the clothing I had laid out in the guest bedroom.
I followed close behind, wanting to observe his reaction. He gasped when he saw that I’d laid out a selection of clothing from his stash: a white bra, panties and slip, as well as beige stockings, a floral-print dress and white pumps. He stammered and stuttered again as he tried to utter his thanks. I cut him short, telling him that I was in charge and that he needed to follow my orders. He quickly and quietly dressed, and I could see from the bulge in his panties that he was getting incredibly excited—and I hadn’t even revealed my entire plan yet!
Once Sam was dressed, I sat him down, placed one of his brunette wigs on his head and applied his makeup. I told him he needed to perfect his cosmetology skills, but otherwise he had a pretty good handle on dressing en femme. I actually admired his taste in clothes!
Sam was looking at me hopefully, so I took his hand and told him we were going to the movies. He was hesitant, but I reminded him who was in charge, and he readily complied. This Friday night movie date became a weekly occurrence. And as Sam grew more comfortable going out in feminine attire, we began stopping at a café afterward to sip lattes and chat like girlfriends. He was so feminine in his appearance and mannerisms that no one realized he was actually a man. Sam and I eventually began going out more than once a week, having dinner at local restaurants and going out for cocktails after work—like real girlfriends!
And what would a girlie friendship be without shopping? I thrilled Sam when I first suggested we hit the mall together. It was as if I’d tapped into a secret fantasy of his, so off we went to the lingerie section of a major department store, where we picked up a variety of sexy bedroom outfits to round out his wardrobe. Shopping was like foreplay. It turned both of us on to be out in public, fondling underthings that we would soon be ripping off of each other in our mad haste to fuck. After our initial lingerie splurge, we added a new dress to his wardrobe every week and often complemented the purchase with new shoes. Before long, Sam had a pretty wardrobe.
In addition to the super-hot sex that we were having after our dates, a new order was developing at home. Sam had taken on all of the household chores, like washing clothes, cleaning and cooking. With my encouragement, he readily assumed these duties, all of which he performed while dressed in a nice frock and high heels. Sam looked like a 1950s housewife as he pranced through the day. He loved it, and so did I, since it reduced my stress and gave me more time to focus on my career.
Sam is a professor at the local university, and when the spring semester ended, I decided to kick things up a notch. On the first day of his summer break, I informed him that I’d put all of his male clothes in storage. He opened his closet to see it filled with feminine attire, and a huge smile spread across his face. I encouraged him to let his fingernails grow and insisted he give himself weekly manicures. Summer also gave me additional opportunities to explore his love of bondage.
Our backyard is surrounded by a privacy fence and sheltered by a ring of trees. So on the first sunny day, I ordered Sam to strip off his dress, and as he stood in his bra, panties, garter belt and stockings, I strung him up between the two poles that held up our clothesline. I left him there all afternoon as I sat by the pool and worked on my crossword puzzle. I occasionally snuck glances at him all trussed up in the sunlight, and I have to admit that I was so turned on that I had to worm my hand into my bikini bottom to finger my tingling clit. Tying him up had made my pussy incredibly wet, and seeing him standing there so helplessly made me ache. I kept my eyes locked on him as I flicked my swollen button. Sam simply stood there with a desperate look in his eyes and a huge bulge in his undies as he watched me pleasure myself. The sight of my feminized plaything waiting for me to use him as I saw fit was a potent aphrodisiac, and I came hard as I formed even more wicked plans for our future play scenes.
When Sam stripped off his lingerie that evening, he gasped at the sight of the tan lines that the summer sun had left behind. They were so sexy, and I couldn’t help tracing them with my tongue that night as we licked and sucked each other to fabulous orgasms, like the lusty girlfriends we’d become.
I’m glad I discovered Sam’s cross-dressing, but I wish he hadn’t kept it a secret for all of those years! Life would have been a lot more satisfying and less stressful had “Samantha” been in our lives from the beginning. Looks like we’ll have to make up for lost time!
—Ms. E.M., Portland, Oregon