This story is a scene set in Manchester England. A man comes home from work and finds his wife cooking dinner. This story is told from both points of view.

" Hi Michelle luv, I'm back! What's for dinner?"

Tony's back. I only hope he's not feeling too horny. I'm standing at the sink, washing up.

"There's a casserole in the oven. it should be ready in about ten minutes."

I can feel his eyes on me. I better turn the oven down.

Tony

I stand and look at Michelle washing up. She's wearing pink rubber gloves, a blue and white floral dress, black stockings, black heels, and a full apron tied in a big bow at the back, the picture of feminine domesticity. I can't help myself, even after nine months, getting what I always wanted in a woman it's too much. I'm hard. I need her now.

Michelle

As I was expecting, I felt him behind me. His hands grab my arse cheeks. I feel his hard cock grinding into me through my dress and his trousers. He breathes heavily into my ear, then kisses my neck. This is going to happen then. I feel proud that just seeing me can do this to him. This is power A woman's power. But can't he wait? I just cooked bloody dinner.

Tony

I lift the hem of her dress and see the lace-trimmed white petticoat underneath. Such a good girl. She dresses to please me. She dresses like a real woman should, just like my mum used to dress. I lift them both together and tuck them into the belt of her apron.

She is wearing the black silk French knickers I got her last week. I caress her cheeks throught the silk and hear her moan. That must feel so good for her. My need is urgent though. No time for foreplay. I lower her knickers slightly and see she is wearing her plug. Good girl. She will be lubed up and ready. I gently ease it out of her and hear a pop. I throw the plug into the sink. Quickly I move myself into place and slide inside her.

Michelle

He pushes me against the sink. I still have my rubber gloves on. Can't he at least wait until I take those off? I grip the sides of the sink as he starts to lift my dress. I begin to hope he is horny enough to be quick.

Nine months ago when I agreed to move to Manchester with him, the idea of this turned me on like crazy. I was a crossdresser with a yearning to be a woman full-time. I wanted to be a woman and a wife. I saw being a man's wife as the ultimate expression of femininity.

I had been a crossdresser for years. I never had any luck with women and loved the attention I got from men on contact sites. Tony was different. He wanted someone who would commit to living with him as a woman full-time. I was too worried that I would be discovered with him living in the same town as me. When he was offered a transfer from Hitchin to Manchester it was my chance to start a fresh life as a female. I had no close relatives to come looking for me. I was free to choose.

The idea was intoxicating. Living 24/7 as a woman. It was my dream. Should we be allowed to live our dreams though? Tony told me that he would expect me to cook, clean the house, wash clothes, and make the house look nice. He told me that he expected me to dress as a feminine woman every day. Skirts, dresses, stockings and makeup all the time. I shuddered with desire at the thought of this. He made me understand he would put up with no "male" behavior. I would read women's magazines, and romance novels and learn how to knit and sew. I was to close my bank accounts and sell all my property. Not that I had much. I was never successful or happy as a man. I was to be a stay at home housewife, just like his mother.

The idea seemed like heaven to me. Everyone in Manchester I met would only know Michelle. I would be stuck in a life of housework, silky lingerie, perfume, and makeup. I couldn't resist it. I agreed. Nine months in, I was starting to have doubts. It's funny really when I think about it. Growing up I wanted to be my mother. I suspect he wanted to fuck his mother. In a strange way, we both got what we wanted.

I felt the plug being pulled out. I was prepared as he often came home and ravaged me before dinner. His hands caressing me through the silk felt fantastic. This was something I loved about this life. My plug was quickly replaced by something warmer and harder. I can't deny the pleasure I felt as his hardness slowly slipped deeper and deeper inside me.

Tony

I slowly push all the way into her. I always think of her as her. Never him. I keep pushing until I hear her heels scuff the floor as I lift her slightly off her feet. She has to grip the sides of the sink to steady herself. My hands move up to her tits. I carefully cup them as my finger tweaks her nipples through her bra. I am gentle with her breasts as they were still healing. They were a present form me last month. I insisted that she visit the doctor before we moved and start the procedure to get a gender recognition certificate. Her name was officially changed to Michelle just after we moved. She was on hormones now. No, there is no going back. She is going to be mine. My woman, a woman I helped to make. My perfect woman. Not like those other bitches.

I ram hard into her and she yelps..

"Sorry my love. I just want you so badly."

I regret that. It was just the anger of the thought of my two failed marriages coming to the surface.

Michelle

That hurt! Bastard. I try to be everything he ever wanted in woman, and he does that. Still, he shouldn't be too long now. He speeds up and I start breathing hard. I let out little cries.

"Uh, Uh, Uh.Oh yes, Oh God you're so hard, give it to me".

I know he loves this. I hear him grunt. He is close. I will fake an orgasm to make sure he doesn't try to continue. I do enjoy making love with him sometimes. In bed, with my legs over his shoulders is my favorite position. He seems to think I like to be surprised though. He has had me over the kitchen table, the sofa and even hanging out of the upstairs window as I was cleaning them. I catch a glance of myself in the window. My perfect makeup and blond hair bouncing as he fucks me. It causes my shrunken penis to stir in it's silken prison. Months ago, just the thought of doing this would have me so turned on. Now I am almost bored of it. Is it the hormones I'm on? Do they change the way you think?

I applied to change my gender and seen my doctor. It would take at least two years, but everything goes so slowly. Despite what people think, gender problems are a low priority with the NHS. I had got the hormones on the black market off an internet site. Risky, but I was starting to notice my buttocks swell slightly, or was I just getting fat?

Tony

She tells me to give it her. I most certainly will. I feel myself build to my release. She is so much better than my other two wives. All eager to start with, then "Oh, I got a headache." Not Michelle though. She is unique. She understands a mans needs. My perfect woman. Here it comes.

"Ahhhhhhh. Wow, you're so bloody sexy love. Thank you. Are you ok?"

Michelle

He always asks me that. What does he expect me to say? Now perhaps I can finish dinner, then wash up and tidy the kitchen. Then perhaps I can finally sit down and watch TV with him. I better hide those leggings I left in our bedroom. I got them at the supermarket today. He would hate me wearing them. What he doesn't realize is that almost no women go supermarket shopping in a dress, stockings an heels. I pass fairly well nowadays but don't want any extra looks from suspicious women.

"I'm fine. I better go and change my undies though. Can you put the oven back on please?"

I give him a little peck on the cheek and head upstairs to hide those leggings. I see our bed and think that tonight he will want a repeat performance. He loves me in a baby doll, stockings, and high-heeled boots. I have done this so many times that I'm bored with dressing for sex every night. Am I bored with sex? Before the hormones, sex was like an itch that you had to scratch, then you feel relief for a while. Now I need to be in the mood to enjoy it. Am I thinking like a woman now? I wonder if he'll believe me if I tell him I have a headache.