My first wife was an unpleasant woman and a sexual refrigerator.
My fourteen unhappy years of marriage to her caused me to crossdress
constantly and have intense effeminate, homosexual
fantasies. After the first few years with her, the poor sex
transitioned into no sex at all. But, that was fine with me
because masturbating while wearing her skirt, slip, and panties
were much more exciting than having intercourse with her. On
occasion, I did wonder whether my small penis played a role in
her frigidity; had I been manly and had any meaningful staying
power during intercourse would she have been different?
Well, she filed suit for divorce, which meant a blissful end to
14 years of misery. Once out on my own I thought of finding a
masterful bisexual man to make me his sissy male wife. But,
instead I found my present wife and we fell for each other. My
little 4-inch, thin penis seemed okay for her, as well as my two-
minutes of thrusting until I ejaculated. I know she faked orgasms
because she would moan every time as she felt my ejaculation
inside her sweet vagina. The timing was simply too perfect.
But, the marriage was happy, and my thoughts of being queer and
crossdressing subsided greatly -at least for several years.
Actually, the crossdressing subsided but I still bought naughty
transvestite books whenever I traveled (which was constantly) and
masturbated to them again and again. I liked best the
transvestite novelettes where a transvestite and a real man fall
in love and act like a man and woman in love. I always related to
the transvestite, of course!
Here comes lustful Wendi
As the years rolled by my pent-up desires to crossdress became
unbearable. Soon I had a secret wardrobe, which I hid away in a
locked suitcase. My wife was not the suspicious or inquisitive
type, so my stash went undisturbed for a couple of years.
Whenever she was gone overnight to her daughter’s house, William
would disappear and Wendi came out and became a sensual, lustful,
and very lonely, mature, and quite the effeminate sissy, queer
male woman. As I grew older my effeminate queerness became ever
stronger. I would dress up, sip on a cocktail, and carry on with
strong men on the Internet. Often, this would end up with a very
sexy telephone call in which I became such a womanly queer at the
hands of masterful men.
Then, that fateful, probably inevitable day, descended suddenly
upon me. I came home from a business trip and found my sweet wife
distant and a bit aloof. As the evening progress, she confronted
me about my suitcase, which I had carelessly left unlocked. I
tried to explain that I simply enjoyed wearing women’s clothes
and it meant nothing. I had completely forgotten the realistic
dildo (complete with balls and very life-like), the tube of KY
Jelly, and the various transvestite books, gay pornographic
magazines of close-ups of erect penises, and videotapes of men
having sexual intercourse with transvestites. What could I say?
She dropped it in any case. But, that was the end of our sex
life. When I attempted to approach her she said she simply
couldn’t let a queer make love to her. We were in bed the first
time she rejected me and called me queer. I immediately got a
raging erection and went to the bathroom and masturbated in a
queer frenzy. I imagined my wife having sexual intercourse with a
real man after I had sucked his dick and then guided his very
hard penis into my wife’s vagina!
I ejaculated with such lustful release into the toilet as I cried
out, “Oh yes! I am such a queer!”
At first, I was afraid she would divorce me. But, things settled
down although she did spend more time away during the day. I was
now masturbating every day with one of two fantasies. One fantasy
was that she had finally divorced me and I married another man as
his queer male wife. The other fantasy was that I became her
transvestite maid and her new, very manly lover moved into our
former bedroom and I moved into the guest room. I slept in a sexy
nightgown every night and fell asleep softly crying as I heard
the sounds of intense lovemaking coming from their bedroom. Of
course, these were simply my masturbatory fantasies.
I became somewhat paranoid about my fantasies and thoughts. So,
before I left on my next business trip I hid a voice-actuated
tape recorder in our bedroom. When I returned home a week later
the tape was full. I couldn’t believe it when I heard her on the
bedroom telephone talking with Howard, a single friend of ours. I
was shocked at the intimate, romantic tone of her voice. It was
apparent the two of them were having an affair. The thought of it
hurt me so, yet it also excited me immensely. Then, an hour into
the tape Howard was there! Right there in my bedroom with my
wife. The sounds of the bed squeaking and her moaning constantly
simply overwhelmed me. I timed it and they had uninterrupted
sexual intercourse for 30 minutes! She had six orgasms as he
sawed her relentlessly.
It made me so hard I ached, and played the tape again and again
as I masturbated and tried to time my ejaculation to the moment
when he cried out “My darling Mary… oh fuck, honey, take my
Becoming his queer-boy bride!
I decided to install a low-light miniature camcorder in the room
before my next trip. Needless to say, the sessions I captured on
videotape were as I expected. I got to now see them have sexual
intercourse. I got to see him perform oral sex on her and see her
very willingly suck his very large, very handsome cock. (She
never sucked my little penis, not even in the early days.)
I felt strange longings and urges deep within my loins when I saw
how manly he was. His penis was a good 7 to 8 inches long, and
the flushness I felt the first time I saw him enter my wife’s
vagina was so intense.
Time and again I heard him cry out “Oh Mary, baby, take my cum!”
When he got to the short strokes just before he ejaculated his
thrusts were so fast and intense I thought the bed would
collapse. I could almost feel his ejaculate spurting deep inside
Oh, I forgot to mention that they had discussed me several times.
She had described to him in detail my wardrobe, the dildo, and
all. His response was that he always thought I was a little
queer. That really hurt, knowing she had told him I was a queer,
I came home from my next trip and found them discussing me more
between intense sessions of repeated sexual intercourse. Then, it
happened! They were really going at it. He seemed even more manly
and powerful if that were possible.
Then, as he gave my wife those telltale short strokes, he cried
out “Oh fuck, Wendi, my queer bride, take my fucking cum!”
I was flabbergasted! I watched the tape again and squeezed my
legs tightly together as he cried out my name, and I ejaculated
between my legs without touching my sex.
Needless to say, she was crushed and that was the last time they
had sexual intercourse. But, within days, I moved in with Howard
and became his transvestite, queer-boy bride!
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