There was a time when I never would have dreamed of dressing in my wife’s clothes. I knew what cross-dressing was, of course, but it had never seemed appealing to me. If anything, it seemed like a lot of trouble — all that makeup to be applied and straps to be fastened and uncomfortable clothes. Tight corsets and tight shoes. No, thank you.

That all changed the day I saw Elizabeth’s silky new robe.

I’ll never forget it. It was a rainy Sunday, and like most such days, we’d spent the time inside, watching TV and cuddling. Elizabeth had just finished her shower, and I’d gone in the bathroom to take my turn after stripping in our bedroom.

I found her standing in front of the sink, brushing out her gorgeous black hair, and she was wearing that robe. The sight of it hit me with incredible force. It wasn’t anything special. I knew the robe was some synthetic material rather than real silk, and I recognized the bright floral pattern might be considered gaudy by some. I knew Elizabeth had recently bought it from the mall on a trip to buy stuff for the house. Probably it was half-priced and she’d purchased it on impulse, attracted by the colors.

But something about the sight of my wife in that billowing cloud of silkiness awoke something in me. I found myself stepping up behind her and putting my arms around her waist. Part of that was simply affection, but I also wanted to feel the robe’s texture against my naked skin. At that moment, I wanted it very badly. I felt my cock swelling and my nuts tightening as I pressed my middle into the coolness of the robe. My nipples stiffened as the fabric caressed them. My cock found the crevice of Elizabeth’s sheathed ass, and I pushed against it with a firm, steady rhythm.

It felt incredible. The smooth, almost slippery sensation of the robe against my dick reminded me of the bliss of penetrating Elizabeth’s tight pussy. But it was also different; the rubbing of the robe against my meat was strangely tantalizing. I had to resist the urge to start slamming myself against her ass until I exploded. I have no doubt if I’d stood there much longer, that’s exactly what would have happened.

“Mmm,” Elizabeth purred, arching her back. “That’s nice. Somebody’s excited tonight.” She reached down and closed her fingers around my cock and its surrounding folds of fabric, pleasuring me while encouraging my thrusts. “How about you give me some more of this?” she asked, tweaking my cockhead. “I could use it.”

Well, I certainly wasn’t unwilling. I let Elizabeth take my hand and guide me to the bed. She shouldered off the robe, letting it fall to the floor in a multicolored pile. It occurred to me that her naked body looks more delicious to me every time I see it. In a matter of seconds, I was in bed with her, tasting her skin and lips. Elizabeth’s excitement matched my own. She slid her long nails over my shoulders and groaned softly in my ear as my cock found entry and plunged home. We enjoyed two rounds of fucking that night, taking our time and rediscovering all the things about one another’s bodies that had so excited us at the beginning of our relationship.

And yet I couldn’t help but feel — not disappointed, but strangely discontented. As though there were even more pleasures we might have enjoyed, had we just taken a little longer. I couldn’t understand the emotion, and it made me feel a little guilty. I sat up thinking for a long while, but came to no real conclusions. Finally, I gave it up for the night. I rolled over and joined my wife in peaceful slumber.

As the days progressed, I thought more and more about that night, replaying the details in my mind. I finally came to realize Elizabeth’s robe was the missing piece. Or, more precisely, the sight of myself in the mirror, wrapped in that brightly colored silkiness. I remembered the smoldering look in my reflection’s eyes, staring back at me like a predatory cat hungry for its prey. Like a gorgeous, highly sexed woman in search of a lover for the night. My hair was short while hers was long, but that was an easy enough correction to make with the help of my imagination. Somehow, my reflection merged in my mind with that of Elizabeth, smiling and welcoming me into bed. I couldn’t get it out of my mind, and yet it seemed like I’d never experienced anything like it.

Or had I? The more I thought about it, the more I realized perhaps it shouldn’t have been a surprise at all because I’d had a very similar experience only a few years earlier.

Back when I was in college, I dated a girl named Rose — a cute Korean with a penchant for exactly the same kind of flowered robes Elizabeth loved. She had quite a collection and seldom wore anything else at home. She would pad around her off-campus apartment in one after we’d finished making love, her black hair done up in a bun speared through with a chopstick. I loved the look; I thought it was both sophisticated and burningly sexy.

One morning when she was in the shower, I took one of her robes from where it hung on a hook on her bedroom door. I didn’t know what exactly I thought I was doing, but I couldn’t help myself. I put on the robe and wrapped its belt tightly around my waist, all the while staring at myself in Rose’s mirror. The silk, I remember, was of considerably better quality than Elizabeth’s robe. It was also still warm from Rose’s body, still fragrant with her scent, and I loved the feeling that my lover was somehow enfolding me in a tight embrace. I raised a hand to my chest, pressing the silk against my nipples, rubbing it up and down to produce a gentle, irresistible friction. My cock stiffened under the robe, rising up to let me wrap my fingers round it. It would have been so easy to jerk myself off then and there. In fact, that was exactly what I’d wanted to do. The sight of myself in the mirror was so strangely hot I couldn’t stand it. Finally, I heard the shower go silent. I immediately shrugged off the robe and hung it back on the door. Then I climbed back into Rose’s bed and closed my eyes until she came in to join me.

Eventually, Rose transferred schools and moved home to New York, and I never had the chance to repeat that experience. I had always assumed my excitement back then was from smelling and feeling Rose’s presence. But apparently that might not have been entirely true, seeing how Elizabeth’s robe could awaken the same type of feelings!

The question I faced now was: What would I do next? I was more than a little embarrassed by this strange obsession of mine, though I knew my wife would support me in anything. Elizabeth had her own kinks, and I didn’t think mine would freak her out. Finally, I decided to put that supposition to the test.

That Friday night, Elizabeth was scheduled to work late. I waited until about half an hour before she was due back home and dug her robe out of the closet. I was more turned on than I’d been in ages. When I put the robe on, I saw a slowly spreading drop of darkness on the silk where my pre-come was being absorbed. The silky fabric fluttered teasingly around my cock like it was welcoming an old lover.

As I glanced in the bedroom mirror, I was a little afraid to do more than that. But when I saw my smile, I felt a rush of warmth and pleasure. I slid under the covers and shut my eyes, letting my breathing find a low, even rhythm. When I heard the door open and Elizabeth’s footsteps whisper on the carpet, I experienced another surge of excitement. I reached between my legs and fingered my cock and balls.

Elizabeth said nothing as she entered our bedroom. It wasn’t uncommon for me to fall asleep early, after all. Covered as I was by the blankets, she wouldn’t immediately see her robe. But when she did, how would she react? Would she gasp or cry out? I shut my eyes tighter and waited to find out.

I felt her weight settle on me and the slightest touch of a kiss on my ear. Then Elizabeth took hold of the covers and pulled them off me. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then I felt her hand lovingly caress my shoulder.

“Well,” she said softly. “What’s this, huh?”

As hard as I tried, I couldn’t think of a reply. I opened my eyes and looked up into hers. The impish smile on her lovely face made my heart race.

“You look wonderful,” she told me. Suddenly, I found myself tumbling back into that fantasy of being someone else, a beautiful other person whose identity I could assume simply by putting on a robe.

The scene came to hold more and more of a place in my heart — and my libido. Elizabeth and I began acting out the scenario of her “discovering” me in her robe more and more often — until it became a regular feature of our sex life. It got so that every morning she would wake me up with a gentle caress, whispering in my ear how incredibly hot I was in my pretty silky robe.

I couldn’t get enough of it. If you’ve ever had anyone willing to indulge you in a slightly off-center fantasy — actually take you into it so perfectly that it temporarily becomes your reality — you know what it meant to me.

And I wanted more. I didn’t just want to put on Elizabeth’s robe. I wanted her to make me Elizabeth and take me as her double. I wanted her to fuck me as Elizabeth. It got to the point where I was regularly jerking off while thinking about this notion, and it was only a matter of time before I approached my wife about my rampant fantasies.

Her response was both immediate and positive.

“Here,” she said, handing me the robe. “Put it on for me. I want to see you in it.”

I took off my shirt and let the slick robe fall around my shoulders. It felt incredible. I let Elizabeth run her hand over my ass, her nails grazing my cheeks. She squeezed lube onto her fingers, rubbing them together and pressing them deep into my asshole, giving my prostate a shock.

“Here it comes,” she whispered. “Gonna fuck you good, honey.”

I inhaled sharply, hardly able to believe what I was hearing. I was getting steadily more aroused, unable even to think.

When at last she did finger-fuck me, it was incredible. I felt like a rod was piercing me through to the core. I didn’t want it to end.

“Whose girl are you?” she asked.

“Yours,” I whispered.

“Damned right. I’m going to make you my girl. All the way down to your toenails.”

I was amazed by how powerful an experience it was. I felt my load bubbling up inside my balls, getting ready to spill. If Elizabeth so much as breathed on me, I knew I would squirt all over myself. It was like I was being completely remade, and I loved it.

I couldn’t help but wonder what the next step in my journey would be. I did some online searches for dominants, and I liked what I read. Pretty soon I had scheduled consultations with some of these ladies — with Elizabeth’s approval. She readily gave her consent, which was conditional on me giving her all the lip-smacking details of my encounters.

I secured an appointment with a certain Mistress Shawna, a leggy woman with dark blonde hair and penetrating green eyes. She described herself as having a bit of a thing for helping cross-dressers through gender-bending adventures. Also, she advertised herself as being from London, and that helped me make my decision. I’ve always had a thing for British accents. It wouldn’t be right to say I fell in love with her, but I certainly did develop a bit of a crush. She had an elegant, flirtatious manner that won me over instantly.

Shawna set me down in her receiving room and gave me a good talking-to.

“So, you like cosplaying as your wife, would that be fair to say?”

I admitted that would be fair.

“And you like it when she fucks your tight little ass?” Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she grilled me.

“Yes,” I said, already trembling.

“Then let’s see what we can do for you,” Shawna said with a wicked smile. “I think I have some lovely femme things you might like very much.”

She got something out of a closet that nearly made my heart stop. It was a beautiful silk robe, very much like Elizabeth’s. But it incorporated more red than blue shades. Instead of commanding me to strip, Shawna undressed me herself, slowly unbuttoning my shirt and taking down my trousers. Then she draped the robe over my shoulders and stepped back, looking me over from top to toe.

“There,” she said. “Now that’s something we can work with, I think.”

It was an intoxicating experience. I loved “being Elizabeth,” but putting myself so completely in Shawna’s hands made me warm all over. I wanted to be this woman’s plaything, to be completely at her mercy. I wanted that very badly.

Next, came my makeup. Shawna got out her kit and began working me over, applying mascara, lipstick and rouge. Then she brushed out a wig that was a perfect match for Elizabeth’s mane and invited me to take a look at myself in the mirror.

I gasped. I looked remarkably like my wife — to an extent that startled me.

“Do you think you’re pretty?” she asked kindly.

“Yes,” I said, trembling all over.

“Good. Then let’s move on.”

That meant moving on to getting fucked, as it turned out. Shawna rubbed warm baby oil onto her hands and began working over my buns. She massaged my ass in a way that made me moan. She reached under my robe and began playing with my cock in a deliciously teasing way, tweaking my dickhead and hefting my balls in her warm, oil-slickened hands. My ass itched inside, longing to be pierced.

I found myself breathing hard, trying to maintain control when all I wanted to do was shove my rigid cock into Shawna’s welcoming clutch and soak her palms with my cream. But each time I began pushing, she whispered, “Easy, darling, easy.” I recognized her words as a warning, and I obeyed them. I wanted to please my mistress.

Eventually, Shawna slid her oiled thumb into my asshole. I couldn’t help it; I cried out, stumbling forward a step or two.

“All right, love. That’s all right,” she cooed, reaching out to catch me. She didn’t stop thumb-fucking me, though. She continued digging her slick digit into me, effortlessly working my inner pleasure-places.

Meanwhile, my cock was being mercilessly tantalized by the dangling folds of the robe. A simple side step was all it took to send the garment swishing against my meat. It was simultaneously delicious and unbearable. If you can imagine being continuously masturbated with absolutely no way of pressing home to blessed orgasm, that’s pretty much what it felt like. 

But Shawna soon began to up the ante, applying more pressure to my ass while sliding her slick fingers over my dick. I wanted to come very badly then. I wanted this beautiful, cruel woman to be the one to send me toppling over the brink to climax.

“I love you,” I gasped.

“What’s that, darling?”

“I love this — all of it.”

“That’s better,” Shawna said with a smile. “Much better. So much better, in fact, I’ll let you give me a little present.”

I knew what she meant without having to be told. Good thing, too, because I had pretty much reached my limit as far as self-control. Even as Shawna was saying the word “present” and began tickling my balls with the chiseled tips of her perfectly enameled nails, I felt a luscious pulsing sensation in my groin that told me I was already coming.

Now, about coming. There’s something about doing it in the presence of a woman. There’s something else about doing it in the presence of a woman like Shawna. I mean, she totally controlled my nut at that moment. That soft, elegantly accented voice of hers — telling me how lovely I was in my robe and makeup, telling me how absolutely, utterly hot I was and how she could barely keep her hands off me — was incredible.

And the way she called me “Elizabeth” the whole time — sort of personalizing it — that didn’t exactly hurt the process. Anyway, once it started, there was no stopping it. I felt cream draining out of me, what felt like at least a cup of hot white jizz. Possibly more, quite possibly less. You know how your imagination runs away with you sometimes? But I saw it. A very sizable puddle on the floor, making Shawna’s red-painted toes all sticky. She shook her head at me, with that wonderful little half-smile of hers.

“Now, Elizabeth darling, look what you’ve done. You’ve made the most awful mess,” she chided.

With an amazingly graceful motion, she stepped over to me and swatted my ass. I gasped. It shouldn’t surprise you to hear I couldn’t help it. It didn’t hurt — but oh, I felt the sensation of her slap all up and down my spine.

Shawna’s smile persisted. So did the spanking.

“Didn’t you? Didn’t you make a mess, you awful girl?”

“Yes — ow! Y-yes, Mistress Sh-sh…”

“Sh-sh-what? Who am I? What’s my name?”

“Mistress Shawna…ow!”

“All right, I’ll accept that. Now, look what Mistress Shawna has for her lovely girl.”

She held out something small and kind of rounded. Something black and solid that gleamed in her hand. Something I had only seen in the ad section of certain magazines.

A beautiful, shiny black butt plug.

Now Mistress Shawna’s smile was positively evil.

“Want this?”

“Yes, Mistress Shawna.”

“I thought you might. Come along, then.”

“Yes, Mistress Shawna.”

I did, and that was a thrilling backdoor adventure.

Now, I have two wicked ladies eager to indulge my passions. I’m twice as lucky as any guy has a right to be.