Another fiendish and unrelenting tale of erotic female dominance from the glorious Miss Irene that proves the old adage that there is no such thing as a harmless male perversion.
And certainly not for one husband and his life as a man, when his wife and her mother discover him dressed in the wife’s clothes.
Feminization, emasculation, and sexual and domestic servitude, you will be unsurprised to learn, are not long in following.
I can’t remember when I first did it.
Dressed up as a slut, that is!
It’s not that I felt myself as feminine, or even deviant, it’s more that I just loved that thrill. The adventure of the tightness of the skirt, the smooth clasp of stockings and a girdle and the shoes that pinched and made me walk with a sway in my hips.
I never indulged in porn that matched that aberrant pastime. I fucked as a man, worked as a man and never felt an urge to try anything unexpected with any partner, least of all my wife, Belli.
I hid it all in the shadows, in moments when I was safe; indulged myself and came to look forward to those special moments alone with my fetish.
I guess now that there was one person who knew, or at least sensed it in me. Klara, my mother-in-law! The woman who hated me for taking her daughter away. Overtly, for the fact that Belli deserved so much better from a husband; privately because she knew that I was more feminine than ever showed on the outside.
Was the only reason that I married Belinda because she was the same size as me? Perhaps. Was it because she was strong and self-willed? Maybe. Was it because she always fucked me and never the other way round?
I had it inside, it just needed to be pushed into the open.
Feminine and submissive…
I suppose so.