A Wife's Indulgence

by Zoe, a friend of WannabeGinger's life-long partner and Bride

My husband's now known as Anne. I'm his wife, I'm someone who wants to put our relationship into context, and show how a marriage can grow if both parties develop eachothers' interests and pleasures. I know of My friend's difficulties in her marriage to Ginger, but for me it's been very different and, I hope, you'll agree, much more fortunate.

How did it all begin? The steps towards a marriage where we are a man and a woman, most of the time, and two women when the fancy takes either of us?

Perhaps it was at my instigation — and perhaps it wasn't. Perhaps he wanted it all along…. indeed, I know he did. But then, I must have done too. "They", whoever they are, say that marriages become set in their ways, sexually and in general. They say that some people never get to add spice to their lives. Did we know, when it began, that this was what was going on? Not at all.

We had spiced up our lives in many ways. He had become much more adept in oral love-making than I could have wished; he learned from his ability to "put himself in the other person's place" in business. He was successful. He could easily imagine what a woman like me would wish to have "done" to her. I returned the compliment, though hardly as skilfully. We relish the soixante neuf we indulged so often, and we still do. That would be enough for many couples.

How did what begin, then? My husband's crossdressing. It wasn't really started from his teenage years. Of course, that was the Sixties, when he did experiment, with girly clothes and hair styles. He had long since locked those away as secrets before we married. No, his crossdressing was latent, maybe, but it was no feature of our early married life.

I can remember when the seeds were sewn for the first time. We were talking together in the wonderful warm time after a good long fuck. We had been at it for hours, it seemed. We had made foreplay an art form by this time, coaxing and playing with eachother but stopping short of a climax time and again. Sometimes we ache for release but go on to further, and higher heights of real pleasure.

We were talking, as lovers do, about what we had both enjoyed so much during the time just ended. I purred at the thought of his tongue parting the lips between my thighs; softly and sensually, slowly at times and faster as a rhythm developed…. until I had cum for the fourth, maybe the fifth time. He, by comparison, was still waiting for the first release. I enjoyed it most when, having saved himself for this, and brought me to a time when I couldn't cum again, he pulled himself up and entered my wet and wanting pussy.

He came inside me — which I do always appreciate! - and stayed inside for a while resting upon me as he subsided. He slowly slid down, his face licking the soft spot between my tits, and on and on, his tongue rounding my tummy button……. on his way "south". Soon, he was back in the depths of my Bermuda triangle, as we called it……. (things go in there and may never be seen again!)

He licked and licked as the cum he'd given me slowly slipped away. He brought a face up to meet my own, cum lubricating every inch of his face.. and then my own as we kissed deeply. We laid back together.

How were the seeds of his crossdressing sewn in this moment? Simply, and I don't know what made me suggest it…….. We were quiet, neither speaking for minutes on end. Luxuriating.

"You would taste extra special if you had some lipstick on", I said. Silent......He blushed.

He was silent for several minutes it seemed. His eyes told me that he understood and that it would be true. he would taste better....... But his eyes also showed, for an instant, a trace of his past obsession. He had worn make-up as a teenager.

We were lying in the bed, swathed in a light duvet. The smell of sex was strong in the air.

"There's one on the vanity unit. Go, please, and fetch it."

He didn't move, for a moment or two. He breathed deeply.

"What made you say that?", he whispered. His voice was light, almost joking. He had bought-in to the idea but maybe didn't want to admit it.

"I thought it, so I said it. You smell and taste very sexy………", I said, with equal lightness in my voice, hoping to encourage him.

Crossdressing was never further from my mind. I just knew that it would be incredibly sexy if we both shared a lipstick-laden kiss and, maybe, he would go down on me again wearing that creamy concoction.

He said nothing more, lying still in the bed for another minute or two, breathing more shallowly now. Then he reached over to the vanity unit where all my cosmetics were laid out. I had always worn a lot of make-up having had skin problems myself as a teenager.

The lipstick was an expensive one; a Dior Addiction, long-lasting one. Its case was beautifully sexy too. Our eyes met and stayed fixed upon eachother. He stroked the lipstick gently as he leaned back into the bed. He kissed the case with his lips slightly apart, making a gesture with his eyes that was totally unmistakable. My suggestion had been taken up.

"You first", he said.

Should I do so?, a thought flashed through my mind. What if I did….?

"Oh, no….. my treat is to have you kiss me", I replied.

If his teen years had involved experimenting with clothes and cosmetics, mine were taken up with exploring girl-on-girl experiences. I had been quite a "lipstick lesbian" for a year or two, before we met. So it was right for me if he wore the lipstick.

"Promise you'll kiss me again", he smiled.

"Only if you show me you enjoy it", I teased.

This was the turning point. Indeed, he did show he enjoyed it. He took off the cover of the lipstick slowly, holding the top between finger and thumb. He smelled the stick before slowly twisting the case to have it emerge, a deep burgundy colour with a shaped top. Unused until now.

He smelled the stick again and opened his mouth, lightly touching the top of the colour with his tongue. He was clearly enjoying himself.

He showed me the tip before moving it towards his lips. He had to steady his arms, resting on the bed, in order to get close enough to begin applying the colour to his still cum-laden lips. He licked his lips to remove what had been left behind, making his lips wet again.

"Difficult to apply lipstick to wet lips", I said. "Kiss me first."

He did so, beautifully, lingeringly, and seductively. Making me want more. But then he broke away and the lipstick was at his lips immediately. He made an arching sweep from the centre of his upper lip, first to the left and then to the right. He had obviously watched me do this and, for a man, he did a good job. The outline of his lips was near perfect but there wasn't enough colour.

"More." I whispered.

More indeed, from this moment, he took time to cover his upper lips again and again, leaving the vestiges of a cupid's bow in the centre, before sweeping across his lower lip several times. Each sweep was accompanied by a breathless "mmmmmmm". He was making sure I knew he was enjoying this.

Finally, he licked his lips to let them shine….. No need to apply lipgloss.

He held the lipstick up to me. Gesturing, but saying nothing. Meaning it was my turn. But, no, I wasn't having any of that… not yet. There would be ample time. I just smiled.

"Kiss me, lover." I whispered. "That's what you've earned. You proved you enjoyed that."

We locked together, the taste of his lipstick and the cum blending into a dreamy mist in my head. I had kissed girls before that had done as much for me, but never had the sensation with a man.

He was different. Very different. I was lying in his arms, savouring his kiss and sensing an orgasm rising, even though I hadn't been touched intimately for maybe half an hour. My hand reached down to just help me along that pathway. He continued to kiss me fully on the lips and lipstick smeared across both our faces. I flew into a frenzy for what seemed hours and eventually broke from his embrace. Our lips parted.

He started to move south again but I couldn't bear the thought of cumming again so soon….. "No! No!" I shouted…… "Not because I don't want you to, but please just take me slowly…." My breathing took time to slow. He rested his head on my tits. We laid quietly. Then a lipsticked lip surrounded one of my nipples which remained hard and aroused. Though I couldn't see, I felt a light touch on the other nipple. He was putting lipstick on that one too. The lipstick then was applied to his own lips and he laid back in my arms.

Near exhaustion, I raised my hand and touched his hair, tracing a line down across his forehead and down his nose, reaching his lips.

He kissed my finger and then took it into his mouth. Lipstick around the finger would find its way elsewhere soon. My hand went back to his hair, as I softly stroked his fringe. If he was a girl, he'd have bangs. The rest was, and remains, longer than most guys' hair. I stroked it gently, putting fingers into the top and the sides, stroking this way and that. I raised one thick strand from the crown of his head. I stretched it to its fullest length. It was as long as my own. I smoothed it down again. Something inside me suggested not stopping here. He was in my hands. He had done as I suggested with the lipstick. We would use that again in our love-making.

His hands moved across my body, wrapped is it was in my favourite peach satin nightie. He traced the lace along the tops above my tits and reached up as the straps rose to my shoulders. His hand slid under the straps and stayed there.

The seeds of our enjoyment of his crossdressing had been planted. Here I was with a man wearing lipstick, caressing his hair as he fondled the satin of my nightie. Knowing of his past enjoyment of crossing, and feeling equally attracted to a girl as a boy myself, I reached an unconscious decision. This was here to stay as a part of our loving. Almost whatever he felt.

I touched his hair again and took a strand more tightly, rolling it round my finger. I held it. He twisted a strap from my nightie and tugged it. I pulled his hair again. He almost purred in pleasure.

"Let me brush your hair." I said, not asking for agreement. "Then you can do mine." I reached for the hairbrush beside the bed.

"Not unless you have some lipstick too." was his reply, offering the open lipstick to me..

Slowly, he sat up in the bed and turned his back towards me. He smiled. His lipstick was still smeared but the second application was bold enough. I put colour on my own lips for the first time today. The smell was, again, captivating. The taste, likewise. The feel of the creaminess on my lips was sensual in the extreme.

I took the hairbrush and drew the hair from the back of his head to the side and back towards the other side. I reached over his head and brushed the hair away from his face. It reached over his crown. I repeated the strokes several times, increasingly strongly to remove slight tangles and make it sleeker. I picked up the hair from his crown and, who knows why, I began to lightly back-comb or tease it, perhaps to add volume. Now I know, it was to make the style more feminine. I parted the hair down his head from crown to the front and smoothed the sides. His hair cried out for bangs at the front but the cut wouldn't allow this. I back-combed the crown some more. Oh, if only I could work on the cut, I thought…….

He hadn't moved through all of this. Where was it taking us? We had passed a turning point. The look was very much different to that we had started with on him. Writing this, I know it was my choice rather than his — but he was happily compliant with my suggestions, wasn't he?

He shivered quite suddenly. "I'm cold", he said

It was then I asked if he would be comfortable wearing something slinky……

"Another time" was the reaction to my question.

I had asked if "something slinky" would be nice to wear.

Perhaps it was because it was just as we came to the end of the after-glow felt having made love for what-seemed-like hours. We had ventured into the realms of make-up and things that had tempted me……. Unusually….. You see, I'm the wife……… My name is Zoe. He's the husband. His name is Andy.... for now.

We were exhausted, I told myself — though disappointed — and we turned to sleep. I was disappointed because I wouldn't have offered the idea of something "slinky" to sleep in unless I had thought he would love it. I didn't take it as a rebuff, or an outright refusal, more a genuine, "not now, maybe later".

As we turned away from eachother, I said "Maybe some fresh lipstick to wake up to?"

"Mmmmmmm…." came his response. "You too, though…."

We turned back to face eachother and I turned down the gold lipstick case to reveal the deep burgundy shade of creamy ecstasy…… I lined the outer limits of my own lips, filling the central portion with a thick creamy coat that I knew would last for hours, if left undisturbed!

I faced him, smiling quietly as I could leave him with the feeling that all of this was my idea…. really, honest, it was. His eyes were dreamy as I did the same to his lips as I had done to my own. A line to the margins of his lips with the point of the lipstick, followed by a filling-in to make a beautiful colourful, dark burgundy, slash upon his face.

"Lick your lips before we kiss, one last time." I said — and he did, minimizing the risk of smudging the colour…. before we kissed for the first time the following morning. Long lasting formula, the Dior Addiction lipstick promised. I was determined to test the promise.

AS we turned away to sleep, I thought again of how this had come about. The sex we had enjoyed was always good, but this had been spectacular. I hadn't planned this "diversion" at all. But it had happened. And how much I had enjoyed it. I yearned to do it all over again.

Morning came — perhaps too soon.

I awoke first, looking over at a husband who had turned in the night and who was facing me, his lipstick still nearly faultless. How good he had tasted through that and the delicious cum that he had found between my thighs. I stroked his hair, very gently. The hair that I had played with so provocatively last night. He didn't stir, even at that. I resisted the urge to kiss him fully on those deep red lips, until I had slipped from the bed, refreshed my own lips and brushed my own hair.

As I turned back to join him, his eyes opened. A smile spread across his face, welcomingly. Though barely awake, it seemed that sex was again in his mind — as it was certainly in my own.

Not for long, however, because a frown replaced the smile on his face. A look of… what was it?… Guilt? His face changed and he appeared very confused, even shy. He licked his lips. Gently at first, then quite furiously, removing the colour that had been so lovingly applied. There was a silence. What to be said? It was clear something was wrong. Sudden shyness.

"We shouldn't have…." He began. But the words faltered.

"Shouldn't have done what?" I whispered.

I knew then that the hoped-for repeat of the night's delights were lost — for now if not for ever.

He shook his head. He licked his mouth again, as if to make sure it had all gone.

I had guessed about the experiences of his past, before we were married. Cross-dressing at times; a "hobby" now long since forgotten. Never forgotten — that's for sure….. maybe just put away for "one day". But never forgotten. CDs I have met subsequently confess that "it's never forgotten." Perhaps I had exposed a nerve that once was raw and in need of continuing stimulation, but which had been bandaged and hidden away. My own taste for a fling with another girl — indulged many times in my young days — had likewise been tucked away… but of course, never forgotten.

All seemed lost….. He didn't answer, except to say "I must have a shower."

I lay in bed as he did so. Should I apologize? Not really, it had been a mutual expression of desire, last night. Nothing premeditated. Nothing to say "sorry" for. It was something I had loved doing — and would do again given half the chance. No, I wouldn't apologize. Maybe he felt he should. As though this wasn't "normal". as IF! It was entirely natural and something not to feel guilty about.

We spent the rest of that day "being busy" — as we often did when, having had an argument, neither would apologize or admit being in the wrong.

Leastwise, we did until early evening. It was the weekend. And as it was the weekend, we came to the time when, if either of us fancied the idea, all we had to say was "It's 5 o'clock" and the other would know that it was a good time for a fuck.

I was still feeling quite horny from the night before and so it seemed a natural way to bring us back together.

"It's 5 o'clock….." I said, with my usual "look-in-my-eye". "You busy?…." I asked.

"Not at all……", was his reply. "I was hoping you'd ask."

Another turning point? Should I… dare I, refer back to last evening…….?? I decided not to.

Yet.

I was tempted to mention it. I was tempted to lead in with "slinky" talk, but easily realized that would be a mistake — for the time being.

He approached me across the living room. His smile showed the day's distance was gone. That was exhilarating. He touched my nose lightly with a finger and left it there….. tracing the line down towards my lips and drew me close. We kissed.

"Here or upstairs?" — another frequently asked question! — this time he was the one to ask. So, it was my choice. Here would be nice…… but sex never lasts as long on the living room floor, it seems to me. And besides, last night was "upstairs"…… and I felt like continuing "last night".

"Oooooh, I think upstairs would be best…." I said, taking him by the hand. "..Close your eyes."

I unbuttoned his shirt and slipped my hand inside, playing with his nipples as I did so. He visibly shook…. but didn't repel the sensation. I loosened all the rest of the shirtbuttons and removed the garment by sliding it down his arms…. at the same time playing with a nipple that was, by now, hardened. I leant down, as he stood there, and placed a kiss upon this erect part of his chest, leaving a delightful circle of lipstick around it.

Yes, lipstick. Before the first exchange of words at 5 o'clock, I had freshened my lipstick and mascara, adding some eye shadow as it was "coming up evening time". I wanted to send a message. I was ready for anything.

He laughed. The lipstick was delightful and said only one thing….. "more".

Looking back, this was also a turning point in a way. Lipstick was again in both our minds - impossible to ignore. It was.

I told him to take a shower — to give me time to freshen myself too. And to give me time to think. I decided that it was best to lake things take their own course — not to drive things forward in whatever direction.

I was freshened before he emerged from the shower.

"Leave your hair to dry naturally." I called to him. I fancied running my hands through his still-wet hair. He emerged from the bathroom and, near dry, spread himself across the bed.

"Let me just do my hair." I said, taking a brush from the dressing table and turning to the mirror.

My hair. Before sex, it was something I had to have right to feel sexy. My hair. Once described, by myself, when I was angry with him, as "looking like a tart's"…… Done for him, because he likes it that way. Red — bright red — with blonde highlights framing my face.

I left him on the bed, anticipating. Growing hard. For just long enough for the "tease" to be recognized.

My hair, deliberately, took time, as I played with the style. Making it very much one to "stay in with" rather than be seen out with. I looked in the mirror for a final time. Right……it was…… In fact, I would have fucked myself if it was possible. It does a girl good to feel that way.

A thought flashed through my mind. Would he feel that way if he looked in the mirror as I had?

I turned towards the wardrobe to select a nightgown — the prettiest I could find. Another peach satin one. Or what about the light blue one with lacy trim? As I stood there with the two of them in my hands, I was tempted, again, oh so tempted, to turn to him and offer a choice….. one for me, one for him?

No, not…. yet…….. I knew that one day I would, but maybe not today. I didn't want to push him. I realized that I loved him even more ……. "this way".

I did offer a choice though…… "Which would you like me to wear, honey?"

"The blue one would be lovely." He answered. So I hung the peach satin gown on the wardrobe door.

At long last, hair and make-up done, feeling a Million Dollars, I slid onto bed alongside him, the red circle around his nipple crying out to be replenished.

At the side of the bed, I sat with the folds of blue silk around my body. On impulse, I took several layers of silk in one hand and began to stroke the body that laid beside me. I didn't need to ask permission. He purred quietly.

I toyed with it and the nipple stood hard again.

"Yours need some lipstick too…." He said, completely surprising me. My nipples.

"And how is the lipstick to get there?" I asked with a giggle. Just at the thought. He was hard by now and his cock invited me to climb upon him. For that, I needed no second invitation. I fucked him from above for, it was to seem like, hours.

He said "you must know where the lipstick is.. and what to do with it."

I could reach it beside the bed, even from above him. I found the Dior and put it to his lips, shaping them beautifully with coat after coat, to make sure it lasted. I reminded him to lick them, to avoid losing their shape and intensity.

I played with his nipples a lot. We would cum together, for sure. And we did.

In the delightful afterglow, I found myself thinking about the previous night and the fuck we had just enjoyed. Both had been phenomenal. Both had lasted almost endlessly. Both had a fouisson of indulgence of something we knew would be part of our future. At least I hoped so.

"Fresh lipstick?" The words slipped out of my mouth…. I half regretted it the very moment later. But I needn't have done. What was I saying? We had fucked delightfully. I risked ruining the moment. Too hasty? We lay beside eachother.

I dared not force him further in this direction. I so much wanted anything we do to be his choice — at this time in our lives, we have a lot worth sharing. I needn't have worried.

He smiled. "I've thought a lot during today."

I smiled, in hope rather than expectation.

"Last night…." I held my breath. What was he going to say? Had I gone too far? Had I uncovered hidden desires that he was scared of? Was my "lipstick lesbian" side too strong?

"Last night was heaven." He said. He breathed deeply, as if to prepare for an explanation. His voice was trembling. "…..it was heaven……. and today, I felt it shouldn't have been quite so delicious!"

I felt I had to speak, to relieve the tension, but what should I say? "Ahh, the guilt trip!" I joked.

Was that the right tone? It sounded mocking all of a sudden…. but I didn't mean it so. It sounded like I'd "been here, done this" many times before. I didn't mean that and I had to show him. So I snuggled into his arms and just said "No need".

"Well, there's a risk….. that I might like it too much!" He joked in return, but I knew that he was suddenly serious. He might just do that and he knew it.

"Whatever, is all fine with me." I comforted him. "Little bits of fun can't harm anyone."

" Well, maybe I hope that's true. I loved the creamy taste of the lipstick and the way it must look. And then there was the way you played with my hair…. Will you do that again too? You know how much I love your hair. That was fun." He paused. "……………Can we do that all again?"

We had finished a wonderful fuck. This wonderful man was saying this to me. What could I say, but "YES!" I reflected on the gentleness he had shown during our love-making and the almost girly feelings he was showing about caring for our sensual sharing of temptations. Who's leading who, I wondered?

So, I reached for the lipstick and the hairbrush…………….

(Shall I continue??)