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Chapter 4: How She Wants Her Husband

The moan that escaped my lips was far too high-pitched, but Katrina seemed to like it — she answered it with a moan of her own, low and dark, drawn from somewhere deep inside of her. Her fingers continued their slow, teasing run up and down the length of my cock, over my panties before making a small circle over my exposed tip. It was such a small, simple movement — it should not have given me such an outsized reaction.

"That feels incredible," I breathed, my toes curling in their new silk embrace. "Why does that feel so good?"

"Everything feels better when you're wearing something pretty," she said.

"Men don't wear pretty things," I objected, turning to face her.

But she fought me, holding me tightly in place. Her grip was stronger than I realized, one arm around my waist, the other still slowly stroking the underside of my shaft. The resistance made my breath catch in my throat.

"They should," she said softly.

"You women do a fine enough job of it," I said, trying to face her again. "Wouldn't want to step on any toes."

"Doesn't it make you sad to miss out on something like this?"

Her hand moved from my cock down to my thigh, spread fingers running up my silk-covered skin. It drew a girlish gasp from my mouth which she answered with a delighted giggle.

"Maybe it would if I knew what it was like," I breathed in answer.

"You know about it now."

"I guess I'll have to forget."

She had returned to my cock, peeling the panties down just enough for it to loll forwards into the air. The waistband was taut enough to hold it up at a shallow angle, and she began to slowly stroke me, fingers tight as they slid from my tip down along my shaft.

"Is that what you want?" she asked, her voice sweet.

"I want to be your husband," I gasped.

My legs squeezed together, the sensation of silk on silk sending a jolt of pleasure through my body. My cock twitched in her hand, much to her obvious delight. She looked up at me with an expression of all-encompassing arousal, red lips slightly parted, lids heavy. Her tongue clicked against her teeth as she stroked me teasingly — agonizingly — slowly.

" This is how I want my husband," she murmured.

She couldn't. I_ couldn't._

"Dressed in lingerie?" I snorted. "I can't be your husband in lingerie. I can't be a man in stockings."

"Maybe you're something else, then."

"Something like what? Your — your wife? Your girlfriend?"

"Something like…" her voice trailed off, and I could tell it was because she was finding the strength to say the words. "Something like… My sissy."

The word was new to me, but hearing it was like being struck by lightning. I moaned as I came in her hand, the orgasm pouncing on me. Quick, hot spurts erupted from me, her hand sliding along my length the entire time, covering me in my cum. Something about that made the climax even better. I looked at her and she was biting her lip, her eyes wide with arousal.

"Yeah," she whispered. "I think it sounds nice, too."