The sound of her heels clicking against the hardwood floor echoed through the silent house. Amanda stood in the doorway of the living room, her arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. In her hand, she held it—the frilly black-and-white sissy maid uniform, complete with the tiny white apron and lace-trimmed stockings. She didn’t even have to say a word. John, sitting on the couch with a beer in hand, froze the m...

Amanda and John enjoyed the kinky side of their lives. To the outside world, John appeared to be the alpha husband and Amanda the perfect housewife. In reality it was anything but that. They had the perfect compromise with Amanda playing up on John's crossdressing fetish in return for her being able to cuckold him with other men while he stays completely loyal and submissive. Amanda kept John in check by controlling his o...

It was a wonderful romantic weekend getaway. We just had a wonderful dinner out. I teased John the entire time with a flick of his corset strap under his shirt. We walked the downtown, stopping into many places for drinks when we noticed a strip club. Wandering into a strip club would have been really exciting for John if I hadn't made him wear lingerie under his clothes. It's a first, John really didn't want to go in the...

Amanda’s heart raced as she handed John the birthday card, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Happy birthday, sweetie,” she purred, leaning in to plant a sultry kiss on his lips. The taste of her lipstick lingered as she pulled away, her eyes locking onto his with a mix of mischief and command. John hesitated, his hands trembling as he took the card. He could feel the weight of her expectations pressing down on him, even...

The neon lights of the hotel ballroom flickered in time with the bass-heavy thump of the music, casting a kaleidoscope of colors over the crowd. Amanda adjusted the hem of her leather mini skirt, glancing over at John, who was nervously tugging at the lace sleeves of his corset. His makeup was impeccable—eyeshadow blending into a smoky halo around his lashes, lips painted a deep crimson that matched Amanda’s own. He looke...

John swallowed again, his mouth dry as he forced the words out. “Rule number two: I must eat all of my own ejaculate or never be allowed to cross-dress again.” His voice trembled, humiliation and arousal mingling in a way that made his cheeks burn. Amanda’s lips curled into a satisfied smile, her eyes narrowing with pleasure at his discomfort. Good, she thought, leaning back in her chair. He needs to feel this. She crosse...

Amanda leaned back on the couch, her glass of wine perched delicately in her hand. The soft hum of John’s laptop fan drifted from the spare bedroom, where he was mid-stream on Chatturbate. She glanced at her phone, where the earnings ticked up steadily. $400… $450… $500. Her lips curled into a sly smile. This is almost too easy. She had discovered that John’s cross-dressing fetish wasn’t just a kink; it was a goldmine. Th...

Seemingly, Amanda and John were a normal professional suburban couple. Nobody would guess that John had a fetish for cross-dressing. Amanda hated his fetish. Like most women. her idea of a man wasn’t one of a man wearing women’s clothing. They did have a healthy sex life occasionally role-playing, with Amanda as the dominatrix and John as the submissive. Sometimes the role-playing included a little bit of cross-dressing j...