Being a (Gay) Housewife

I was a 19 year-old boy, deeply in love with a much older man, and keeping house for him... cleaning, cooking, all the things a wife does. And I was loving it! One particular night, I was in the kitchen of our apartment making dinner. Timing it so that he could come through the door, clean up, sit on the balcony and join me in a glass of wine before dinner. Well, that was the plan...

As usual at this time of night I was showered, shaved, scented; and wearing my favourite wrap-around skirt and tank top (yeah, I crossdress, I love the freedom of movement it allows).

The sound of the key in the lock, the sigh of relief at putting the world behind as the door closed... the man I thought of as my husband could now start to relax.

Have you ever tried to make a wine and mushroom sauce while your lover is fondling you, nibbling the back of your neck, and pressing a seriously erect cock against your (admittedly receptive) arse?

I thought not.

Somehow I convinced him that a shower followed by dinner and a bottle of red was the right sequence of events.

After I cleared the table and stacked the dishes we opened a second bottle of really good wine and curled up together on the couch with some good jazz on the stereo.

That second bottle and the mellow jazz did the trick, he went to sleep with his head in my lap, and when I gently woke him and led him to bed, he went to sleep with my head on his shoulder and us holding each others cock.