my husband humiliated

MY HUSBAND HUMILIATED

by

Tracy Ash

Chapter One

They laughed at me. They mocked me. They called me “Girlie” names. And I loved every word. My wife had invited a few of her girlfriends to our house to watch the husband she married become the sissy she lived with. It was an evening of verbal abuse that ended with physical abuse. A gay male stripper used me like a real woman.

After my wife found out about my feminine urges I told her that I had never done anything gay and my femininity was strictly for clothes. Getting home from work, I would trade my daytime male attire for the exciting feel of lingerie. I couldn’t wait to put on a bra and panties. After pulling on my pantyhose, the glorious feel of nylon would press my erection against my stomach. I usually completed my makeover with a soft, filmy, dressing gown that would flutter down over my lingerie. Then one of my several wigs would complete my look for the evening.

Dressed like this, I felt entirely feminine, but I had paid a price. My wife and I no longer had sex and I had agreed not to complain when she brought home lovers. She would humiliate me by having me dressed and telling these men I was her sissy husband who liked to watch real men fuck his wife.

And she was right. I didn’t mind her bringing men home. In fact, it excited me. Whenever she brought a man home, I would sit on a chair in our bedroom and fondle myself through my panties, all the time wishing it was me getting fucked on that bed.

This arrangement went on for some time, until one night when our doorbell rang after dinner. My wife answered it and five women came into the house. Standing there in all my feminine finery, I was embarrassed. I knew these women and, I knew their husbands. They were all our neighbors. As each one passed me, they gave me a disgusted look.

I hurried into our bedroom and called out to my wife.

“Linda, come in here. Quickly,” I shouted through the door.

“What do you want,” she asked, walking into the room wearing a naughty smile.

“What’s going on? Why are they here? Why didn’t you tell me before you opened the door,” I replied in a panic?

“Well, darling,” she said. “They’re here to see you. I invited them over to see what happened to the man that I married.”

“But these women are our neighbors. I know them all…….and their husbands. How can I go out of the house and face them again,” I protested to my wife?

“Easy,” she responded. “You’re a man by day, and a woman at night. Besides, they promised me they wouldn’t tell their husbands about your secret life. But, then again, I can’t guarantee that.”

“Why are they here, Linda,” I asked again.

“They’re here to see you, Dear. Tonight, you’re going to play the role of a good housewife and wait on all of us girls while we talk. Sort of a “girls-night-in,” my wife explained.

“And,” she continued, “they’re going to admire my live-in girlfriend. They will probably comment and talk about what a pretty little sissy you are.”

“These girls are all my friends, and they know that I have been bringing home strangers for sex. Tonight, we girls are going to talk about what it is like to be married to a crossdresser; especially a crossdresser who says he has never had sex with another man. By the way, none of these women believe that.”

“But I haven’t. You have to believe me,” I said in a pleading voice.

“We’ll see,” my wife said with a wry smile, as she took my hand and led me into the living room. Embarrassed, but obedient, I followed along.

Even though I knew all of them, Linda introduced me to each of the women, telling them I was her new live-in girlfriend.

“He, she,” my wife corrected herself quickly, “will be waiting on us tonight while we enjoy some girl-talk.”

Before sending me to the kitchen to get drinks for her friends, my wife asked each of them how I looked, and what they thought of my feminine attire.

I stood before them, with my head down, and my hands folded over the erection I couldn’t control. These women were all quite beautiful, their faces adorned with perfect makeup, and each had a glamourous hairstyle. At that moment, a strange feeling came over me. I was no longer embarrassed. As they walked around me, looking me over and commenting to my wife, I began to feel like one of them.

Over my lingerie, I was wearing a lovely, soft dressing gown. I had chosen a wig with long black curls that fell past my shoulders. Tonight, I should have been suspicious when my wife asked to check my makeup, which is something she never does.

She told me, “You look beautiful, Dear.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “I feel so feminine tonight.”

“And you are,” she reassured me.

After all the girls had checked me out, one of them said:

“He really looks good. He could almost pass for a real woman. We’ll see how he acts later.”

I had no clue as to what she was talking about and so I went off to the kitchen to make drinks for everyone.