By the time my wife, S, and I had been married for fifteen years, there was not much that we didn't know about each other. If you're going to make it that long, you're going to have to learn to be honest with each other. This is what had led to me recently, cautiously, come out to her as being bi, turning at once tepid physical relationship into one of ongoing smoldering, passionate experimentation. She was amazingly supportive. She bought out first strap-on, found us male-strip clubs, and even encouraged me to let my hands wander and linger while slipping dollar bills into the dancer's g-strings. But before tonight I had not been able to completely indulge this fantasy. But tonight was going to be different. An off-hand drunken joke in a bar, last night, led to an "are you serious? I'm serious if you're serious" exchange and soon she was picking out my perfect first-time stud. Now, tonight, she and a man half my age are drinking wine and flirting in my kitchen. She knew I wanted to be with a man and even arranged this experience for me, but she didn't yet know everything.
She never said a word, but the woman at the lingerie shop knew the bra and panties, thigh-highs and garters I spent all afternoon shopping for were not for a wife or girlfriend. My stomach was in knots the whole time, but the excitement of this woman knowing they were all for me was delicious. It was exhilarating, us sharing a secret I've been too embarrassed to speak aloud...that I was going to break all the most sacred taboos. Not only was I going to be on my knees sucking cock, begging a man to splash his hot cum across my face, shoot it into my eager mouth and fill my ass with it, I was going to do it all as a cross-dressing, lingerie-wearing sissy.