Saima sofe par let chuki thee.”Didi, Abdul ghar pe hai?” Meri nazar Saima didi ki chuchi par thee jo ki upper neechey ho rahi thee. Usski saans ka...i ukhadi hui thee lekin vo sambhal kar boli,”Wah bhaijaan, aatey hi Abdul ko puchh rahe ho. Hum koi nahin hain. Hum bhi aap se pyar karte hain. Aap apni Saima didi se pyar nahin karte jis tarah Alka se karte hain. Agar aap mujh se baten kiye bina chale gaye to main aap se bilkul baat nahin karungi. Ab mere pass baitho zara, Bhaiya” Main bhi to yahi. I mean, why would putting something up my ass makeme feel better about the urethral insert up my cock? Wouldn't it beeasier and more logical to just take out the insert? These questionshighlighted how different my train of thought was than my wife's. Itseemed like she was intentionally challenging all my preconceivednotions about my gender, my role in our marriage, and my place in ourhousehold. I shook my head at how fast my world had been turned upsidedown. I was now mincing around dressed as. Gone was the mousylook of that first meeting, though. Her long brunette hair wasshining, along with her green eyes. What I had taken for tiny breastsat our first meeting was a sports bra and oversized shirt that she waswearing because she spilled coffee on herself. No 38DDs, but beautiful34 C breasts that were just begging to be nuzzled.Anyway, a very tiny bit of back story, really condensed: I have alwaysgotten a kick out of wearing women's lingerie. Started as a kid, stolefrom sisters,. Scratching lightly at my skin and moving lower and lower. I pinched my strawberry pink nipple. Sliding my fingers up and down over the bare skin of my slit, teasing myself a little. Closing my eyes. One hand on the wall, the other on my breasts. Squeezing. Pinching my nipples. Recalling the feel of the last guy that had done that time... then Imagining my father’s hand instead."Oh... damn"My forearm on the wall, head down I started sliding my fingers up and down my lips... slowly and gently.