Secrets revealed can lead to happiness - really!

Marriage Made in Heaven!
By
Anne Gray

Secrets revealed can lead to happiness. It might sound silly but my wife and I are proof of that statement!

Karen and I had been happily married for nearly eight years. We were both in our late twenties, career professionals with excellent prospects, a nice home in a secluded neighborhood and no intention of having any children.

Our lives revolved around work, the house, a few close friends and a satisfactory, but not spectacular, sexual relationship. That we loved each other was obvious to anyone who saw us together.

About a year ago I had gone on a three day business trip. Partway through day two it was obvious that nothing was being accomplished so I adjourned the meeting and, meaning to surprise Karen, took an evening flight home.

In the driveway was a car I recognized as Jill’s. She was a long time friend of Karen’s and had been her Maid of Honor at our wedding. I don’t really know why but instead of pulling into the garage, I parked beside her car and quietly entered the house.

Downstairs was in darkness but, knowing the layout like the back of my hand, I made my way upstairs to the master bedroom. Halfway up the stairs my ears told me fun and games were in progress.

The door to the bedroom was wide open but the two on the bed in a classic 69 were too involved to even glance in that direction. Karen and Jill were locked in an embrace of tongues on clits, hands on breasts and eyes closed in ecstasy.

I loved Karen with all my heart but, watching them, had to admit to myself that I had never been able to arouse, or apparently, satisfy her in the way Jill was doing. I decided to record the event in the hope it would help me in some way to understand and be able to give her more satisfaction.

Moving quietly down the hall to one of the spare bedrooms we had turned into a den, I got our state-of-the-art video camera, picked up a step stool and went back to set it to the side of the door to the master bedroom. All the lights were blazing and by standing on the stool then poking the camera around the doorframe I got an excellent view of the two on the bed. As they thrashed around each eventually presented a clean shot of their face.

After about five minutes I shut off the camera, returned the stool to the den, then removed the film and hid it behind a set of history books in the bookcase. History was my hobby and Karen never touched those books.

2.

Leaving the house I drove away to check into a hotel for the night before returning home, at my scheduled time, to a warm welcome from my wife.

Almost exactly six months later the roles were reversed and Karen was the one away on a week-long convention. She came home two days early and I never heard her enter the house. I certainly jumped though when a camera flashed several times and I turned to see her standing in the doorway to the living room snapping shot after shot with the camera she had taken to the convention to record some of the exhibits.

She laughed and said, “I’ll just go and leave this film in to be developed”. I tried to catch her but the new 4” heels I had been practicing in proved too much and I ended up tripping over her suitcase in the hallway, landing flat on my stomach, with my skirt riding up as I watched the front door slam shut.

Now, neither of us had a secret!

When Karen came back about a half hour later I was dressed in slacks and tee shirt. The makeup was washed off and the clothes stashed away in their hiding place. I was nursing a stiff drink and not looking forward to the next few hours.

Her first words were, “Make me one of those too and start explaining.” So I told her how I loved her with all my heart but once in a while I needed to cross dress to satisfy an urge I had lived with since childhood. I explained that I wasn’t gay and I didn’t want to hurt her but sometimes it got the better of me.

Karen was quiet for a while, with a strange almost introspective look on her face, then said she could understand how sometimes an urge was so strong you would risk almost anything to satisfy it.

“So why did you take the pictures?” I asked.

“Well”, she said, “it was spur of the moment. When I came through the door I could smell perfume that was not mine and for one horrible moment I thought you were cheating on me. It only took a split second for me to realize that it was you because you might have been doing this for a long time but you were still easily recognizable as a guy in a dress.”

She got a very female smirk on her face. “Besides a girl always likes to have the upper hand. So now when you get lazy and start spending too much time watching football on TV I could always threaten to have the pictures going around at your office.”

I grinned right back at her “Oh, I don’t think you’ll do that”. When she looked quizzically at me I said, “You might have those photos of me but would you like the people in your office to see a video of you and Jill having fun in our master bedroom? That’s your occasional urge isn’t it?”

“I think that’s Check — Mate!”

First shock and worry crossed her face, then a ruthful shake of the head, a grin and “OK let’s work this out.”

So we did.

3.

Once every month or so we leave our offices early on a Friday and meet at home. In the cold weather from October to April I keep my legs shaved since there is no call to wear summer shorts. Karen has gradually got my own hair into a neat cut, with no sideburns, which is acceptable with my everyday business suits but also very easily covered with one of the wigs she surprised me with on my birthday.

At first she would help me with my makeup but now, since she taught me as we went along, I can handle it myself with some expertise. When Karen has checked that I’ve got it right, and before I put on my lipstick, she gives me a loving kiss, takes her overnight bag, and goes to Jill’s house.

Since this is only happens every few weeks, Jill has accepted that I am out of town on business. Karen and I agreed to keep our urges to ourselves.

Once she has gone I get dressed. The feeling of doing this with no apprehension is hard to explain. As I tuck my genitals back and pull on a panty girdle to hold them out of the way, the next 48 hours stretch in front of me with the knowledge that there is nothing to fear while I satisfy a part of me that has been hidden for so long.

With Karen’s help there is now a closet full of clothes to choose from. Most of them are suitable for the office or ‘housewifeish’ if there is such a word? That’s what I wanted and that’s how I can now pass unnoticed.

I’m 5’ 9” and 150 lbs, which translates, in Karen’s language, to a near perfect size14! My bra cups are filled with thin plastic bags containing birdseed; they form perfectly into the right shape. Pantyhose slide easily up my legs followed by a white long sleeved blouse and a knee length denim skirt. Knee boots that zip up the inside of the leg and have comfortable 3” block heels complete the basics. Brunette pageboy wig, conservative earrings (clip-on) and it’s down to the kitchen to check the supplies.

4.

A wonderfully warm belted leather coat and gloves; shoulder strap purse checked for all I need, including the new drivers license Karen got me. Then it’s into the car and off across town to do the grocery shopping.

Mundane — you bet! Wonderful to be dressed as I am and exciting to pass un-noticed — you better believe it!

Back home I unload and put away the groceries, make myself something to eat and get into a comfortable silk lounging set for a quiet evening in front of the television and do my nails. I keep my fingernails just slightly longer than the average guy but once they have a couple of coats of polish they become very feminine.

Saturday I spend casually dressed, usually a knee length skirt and light sweater but in pumps with 3” heels that now feel natural, puttering around doing housework and getting the place in shape. Karen loves this part — no more housework or laundry for a week after each of these occasions. I just enjoy the freedom to dress how I feel like doing and not worry about any consequences. If the phone rings I answer in my normal voice and the doorbell, on the infrequent times it sounds, goes ignored.

Saturday evening I’m out again, usually to a movie. Sitting in the theatre dressed from the skin out as a completely ordinary woman I’m in heaven. Many times I can’t even remember what the film was about! There’s not anything sexual about the whole thing; sensual is a better word.

Sunday afternoon Karen comes home to find her husband wearing jeans and a sweater, drinking beer and watching football on TV. As she settles down beside me we don’t speak. The look in each other’s eyes of utter contentment is all that is needed. Slowly we kiss and then I pick her up and carry her to the bedroom where we demonstrate to each other the depth of our love.

5.

It’s now just over a year since Karen and I came to our agreement and there have been so many changes it is hard to know where to start.

Every few weeks Karen would spend a weekend with her girlfriend Jill and I would have 48 hours of bliss, dressing without stress or fear, as my feminine alter ego.

It was after about four months that things started to change. Usually she would leave on Friday afternoon before I got “dressed” but this time she asked if I would let her see me as my other self. She said that, although she had helped me with my makeup, she had never seen how I spent these special weekends. She could only visualize that one time when she took the photographs of, as she had observed at the time, a guy dressed as a girl. Now she wanted to see the progress I had made.

It was a request I could not refuse; Karen had been so much help to me. Thanks to her I now had proper breast forms, instead of the birdseed in plastic bags, to fill my bra. I had a closet full of clothes, a couple of wigs and she had plucked my eyebrows for me. I had very fair eyebrows, in fact if I got a lot of sun they were almost invisible so she had plucked them just enough not to be noticeable in my everyday life but so that when I took a dark pencil to them they became obviously feminine.

I poured her a glass of wine and told her to give me some time to change.

Male equipment tucked away and held in place by a panty girdle, which also helped smooth that “love handle” at my waist. I was going to have to work on that but I did enjoy a few beers with the guys after a game of golf. As an aside, I often stood on the tee and grinned mentally as I wondered what the other three would think if I was dressed differently.

I imagined myself in a blonde wig, full makeup; a dark green golfing skirt topped by a light green sweater. Matching socks and a lovely pair of two-toned spiked loafers. Hey I would get to hit from the ladies tee - another bonus.

Back to reality. Thirty minutes later I was ready, dark pageboy wig and makeup just so. A knee length brown tweed skirt with a brown silk blouse tucked in at the waist. Brown square-toed shoes with 3” heels and beige hose finished the outfit.

Taking a deep breath I went downstairs into the living room. Karen just stared at me with a look I could not fathom. “Good Lord, you’re amazing”, she said, “but what do I call you?”

We had not discussed this. The driver’s license she got me was actually a duplicate of hers. Except for the few inches difference in height the description would probably get by in a pinch.

I sat down beside her and we threw out possibilities. My name is Norman so the obvious route was to go with Norma but I didn’t like it. When I was dressed like this there was no way I wanted to have anything close to my male side. So we went back to the beginning of the alphabet and ended up with Alice.

When we had agreed on this name she rose from the chesterfield, reached down for her handbag and said it was time she left for Jill’s. As she went past me she reached into her bag, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and pushed something into my hand.

“Tear them up” she said and left.

They were the photographs she had taken that night she came home unexpectedly and caught me. She was right I looked pathetic. I tore them up and then went upstairs and erased the tape of her and Jill.

A month later, one week after one of our “special weekends”, she came out of the kitchen after dinner with two drinks in her hand and sat beside me on the chesterfield. “There’s a problem and we need to talk.” She said and handed me one of the glasses. I’ll swear my heart stopped for a moment.

I listened as she told me that the time when she asked to see me as the person we now call Alice she didn’t go to Jill’s. “Instead I left the house and sat in a rented car down the street. I watched as you left and followed you. Even in the stores you had no idea I was there, you were so engrossed in being Alice and doing what you were doing. I checked into a hotel and on the Saturday evening followed you again. I sat two or three rows away from you in the movie and just off to the side so I could see you.

I watched you as the movie ended and you left the theatre. I was behind you as you walked to our car. If I had not known who you really were I could find nothing that weekend to convince me you were not the woman you presented to the world.”

She continued, “Last weekend I spent with Jill and two things happened. One — all of these months I have not felt comfortable with our arrangement. It satisfies us both but still I feel unfaithful, even though my weekends with Jill are with your knowledge, it is still outside our marriage and it has, to me, become unbearable. Two — when I was with Jill all I could think about was the Alice I had just met and left at home.”

“Norman, when you are Alice you are now so completely feminine that I think we can work it, if you agree, so that Alice will satisfy my lesbian urges and everything we do will be just the two of us. Or should that be three?” she said and looked at me with such urgency in her eyes that I had to close mine.

I rested my head on the back of the chesterfield and said a quiet prayer to whatever deity had blessed me for whatever reason. Then, I opened my eyes, put down my un-needed drink and gathered Karen in my arms.

The only problem we have now is with my voice, when we go out with me as Alice I let Karen do any talking. If there is a need for me to say something out of politeness to a waiter, for example, I raise my red finger-nailed hand to my throat and whisper a husky thank you.

We don’t go to the same places too often because the sore throat & laryngitis bit only stretches so far. We still kept it to maybe one weekend every month but gradually Karen let me, or even asked me, to “dress” even on weekday evenings after work and has coached me in things I didn’t even think of. For example — walking in 4” heels without getting that exaggerated rear end swing. I’ve also stopped eating, as Karen says, like I’m using a shovel. They say that clothes make a man. Oh if they only knew what clothes can do!

Two weeks ago for our vacation we flew to Vegas for a four-night stay. All of Norman’s clothes stayed behind. We were not crossing any borders so identification was not a problem. Once in Vegas Karen and Alice had a ball. I was dressed mostly in skirts and blouses or dresses and always with heels. Nothing attention getting just the 3” or 4” that I was comfortable with. Karen wore jeans or slacks and light sweaters with medium heels and, I might add, looked fabulous.

After a day of sightseeing, with me the silent partner, and then an evening in the casino (thank God for slot machines and hand signs at blackjack!) we went to our room and Alice made love to Karen. I must admit it wasn’t easy. I enjoyed working with my hands and tongue while in my Alice persona and I could get her to so many climaxes that she slept like a baby, but it was the pressure on my tucked away “other parts” that was hard to bear.

Coming back on the plane I had to pull the sore throat bit again. The flight attendants were so efficient that I had a purse full of lozenges that I had thanked them for and then palmed.

I was wearing a knee length suede skirt and matching three-button jacket over a long sleeve white blouse. My leather gloves were in the pockets of the hip length suede coat in the overhead compartment. Just 2” heeled pumps on my feet and a feeling of “I can’t believe I’m not asleep and dreaming” in my head. Karen was fast asleep in her seat next to me.

We got home at about 1 p.m. and put Alice away. The bags were re-packed and we headed back to the airport. Just four hours later we were in Nassau and spent four fabulous days as man and wife on the beaches and in the casinos where I could now bid in my own voice. It didn’t help - I still lost!

The nights were unforgettable hours of love. Karen pulled out all the stops and we did things that took me to heaven and then over the top, time and time again.

As I sit now at the computer typing this I am dressed in a white, shantung silk dress. The sleeves are puffed to the elbow and then tight to the wrist. The front closes, from the scoop neck to the below the knee skirt, with numerous glossy black buttons that are 1” across. A wide black belt cinches my waist under my 36B bust.

My earrings are made from two matching black buttons. Alice is in full makeup with the black pageboy wig up top and nylon clad legs that end in black pumps with a 4” heel at the bottom.

I’m looking down as my red fingernails catch the light when they move on the keyboard and then I focus on the simple gold wedding band on my left hand. I can hear Karen in the kitchen making us a snack.

Right now my name is Alice — and I am in Wonderland!