Wifey Lessons From A Crossdresser ~ FAGZB (3)
~ Jayden ~
I can still taste her shock on my tongue.
I almost can’t believe Bryan’s wife is underneath me right now. I had suspected he wasn’t the one texting me but honestly? I wanted to meet her too.
She’s trembling, torn between fury and something darker. They all are at first… horny wives who meet up pretending they want answers, not touch. But the moment I lean in close enough for them to smell the gloss, the perfume, the sweat… the moment they see what their husbands have been craving, they go quiet.
Bryan’s told me stories about her sighing through sex, how she turns her head away like it’s a chore or he isn’t touching her right.
I don’t hate her for it, I get it. Marriage eats the hunger out of people and I make it my job to feed it back to them. Both partners.
That’s what I tell myself as I unzip my skirt and watch her eyes drop… that I’m saving marriages one filthy day at a time.
Still, I can’t help but think: what if I’m not saving anything? What if I’m just hungry too? Or maybe I’m just saving myself from feeling unwanted?
Part of me also wonders what Bryan would say if he saw this—if he’d thank me or try to kill me.
Her breath hitches.
I drag my fingers upwards slowly.
“Lesson one,” I murmur, voice low. “You remember this part, don’t you? He likes it when someone meets his hunger with their own.”
I said it before and I say it again now because women like her need to hear it twice. Once to hate it, and once to believe it.
My thumb brushes her lower lip. “Open. Don’t think. Just want.”
Her mouth parts immediately.
She flinches when my hand tightens on her jaw but she doesn’t pull away. They never do. Not when they’re this close to understanding.
It’s not just about sex. It’s about showing them the mirror their husbands already looked into. Showing them what permission sounds like when someone says ‘want me’ and means it.
I press her closer, grinding my hardness against her thigh, watching the flush climb her neck. She wants this. She probably hates that she wants it, and that makes it perfect.
“You feel that?” I say, voice hungry as my fingers slip inside her panties, brushing her pussy. “Tell me how it feels. Don’t hide it. That’s what he wants to hear when he touches you.”
She stiffens at first, a sound catching in her throat.
My fingers move again, slower this time, coaxing. Her hips twitch.
“I—I don’t know,” she breathes, but her body gives the answer she can’t. Her thighs part another inch, the muscles trembling.
I lean closer, my mouth near her ear. “Yes, you do. Say it.”
Her next breath breaks. “Hot,” she whispers, voice cracking. “It feels… good. Like it shouldn’t.” She shakes her head, almost to herself, whispering, “I shouldn’t even be here.”
I smile against her skin, catching her ear between my teeth. “But it feels good right?”
“Yes…” she moans.
“Good. Move into it. Show him how bad you want it.”
She exhales, long and shaky, then moves into my touch, chasing it despite the flush climbing her cheeks. The sound that slips out is half moan, half confession and it hangs between us like proof.
Her hands rise to my shoulders.
“Look at me,” I command.
Her eyes snap up, wide and glassy and that’s when I know I’ve got her; half ashamed, half burning.
“You married girls always act so high and mighty,” I continue, letting my hands explore, tugging her panties aside just a fraction. “You think your husbands are blind? That they don’t notice the flat, lazy lips, the hands that don’t move fast enough? That’s why I started doing this—why I started taking them, showing them what they’ve been missing and saving them from… themselves, from their boring, safe wives.”
I feel her spine shiver under my fingers, the way her body twists and leans against me like she’s trying to escape but can’t. I push closer, spreading her thighs wider and grinding harder, letting my bulge drag over the slick fabric of her panties.
Her knees almost buckle. Good. I like it when they tremble.
“Shhh… don’t fight me too hard, baby,” I whisper.
I slide my tongue across the shell of her ear, tasting the heat, the fear, the want. My own arousal burns as I watch her body betray her, arching and grinding against me, begging without admitting it. I love that part. I’ve trained myself to read them. I know the difference between guilt, shame, and desire… and right now, she’s all three.
I press closer, the heat of my body catching hers.
“Good,” I murmur. “That’s what he wants to feel.”
My words hang in the air for a moment before she moves. Slowly at first, then with a sudden need that catches me off guard.
It’s small: the way her hips shift, the quiet sound in her throat that says she finally understands what I mean. The space between us changes, heavy with something that feels like surrender and defiance at the same time.
For a heartbeat, nothing exists but this.
Her lips part with a soft moan. She’s clutching at me now, hips moving in tiny, desperate circles. I can feel the wetness soaking through, a sheen that makes my blood rush.
“You’re learning fast,” I whisper, dragging my fingers along her pussy, teasing. “See, this is why married girls come to me. They think they’re sinful or bad for wanting it… but really, they’re just starving. Starving for someone to give them permission to be as filthy as he’s been thinking. And I? I derive pleasure in giving it to them.”
I press my lips against her neck, teeth grazing. She bites back a gasp, the heat rolling over her.
“That’s it,” I whisper, dragging my fingers inside her just a little. “I’ll make you understand everything. Every gasp, every moan, every filthy thought he’s been hiding for years… you’re going to know it all. You’ll remember this every time he touches you—and hate how much you crave it.”
She shakes, trying to pull back, and I let her struggle just enough to drive her insane. I want her fully unraveled, every bit of control stripped away. She’s trembling, heat pooling, cheeks flushed like fire.
A phone starts to rings in her bag. That’s Bryan’s ringtone. He’s probably searching for his phone right now.
I watch her face light up, smug, a smirk tugging at her lips. She’s definitely thinking the same thing.
But would she actually pick up?
And worse, what if I wanted her to?