The Crossdresser’s Guide To Marital Bliss — Part 4.

Part 4.

I am wearing some lovely patterned leggings. I do yoga in them with my personal trainer, Sebastian. He’s a very good sport and I know he likes the way my body moves. He looks at me at times with a sort of lustful hunger, and I have to say I enjoy it.

But before I go too far telling you about Sebastian, let’s go back to Rose — so much older than myself and a woman who knew very decisively what she wanted. She would dress me up, make me up and then use me like I was some sort of toy for her amusement. In every respect I was bought and paid for. The degradation and the humiliation came right along with the discomfort of allowing her to do things to my body that certainly weren’t covered in my biology studies in high school. It was disgustingly wonderful.

Rose had figured out that a body, any body, is capable of physical joy and if she worked with it in a certain manner and when that joy was experienced no one was about to complain. Phrases like ‘sexual orientation’ get to be pretty meaningless in some circumstances. I remember asking her one day, after she’d used me to the delight of one of her friends, who she’d invited to watch, whether she thought of herself as straight, or bi or lesbian. After all here I was, on what can best be called ‘the receiving end’ of her passion, dressed as a woman (or in…