Of course I realized that there were some problems in our marriage - you can't have two people living together, both trying to make careers for themselves, plus the usual chores, plus the stresses of daily intimacy and interaction without having a few difficulties. But I hadn't realized that my wife, Carol, thought they were so serious, until she suggested that we talk to a marriage counselor. When she first raised the issue, I resisted, protesting that things weren't that bad, but she was pretty adamant about it. Since I loved her deeply, I finally agreed, albeit reluctantly.
We arrived at the office for the appointment Carol had made, my last minute try to cancel falling on deaf ears. We were shown into a very feminine office, and that set me on edge a little. I felt that going to a marriage counselor was bad enough, but why did Dr. Welles have to be a woman? I would have preferred a male counselor, thinking that a female was going to give Carol the benefit of every doubt, but not wanting to upset Carol, I kept quiet. Dr. Welles walked into the office a moment later, and when I looked at her, I thought this might not be too bad, at least she wasn't some old frumpy lady. She was tall, nearly six feet, I guessed, and was dressed in a jacket and skirt set that did little to hide her beautiful figure. High-heeled pumps and sheer nylons graced her long, sexy legs, and when she sat down, and crossed them, she presented a very lovely picture, indeed.
"I'm glad to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. So many couples try to work things out themselves, or just ignore problems, until its too late. I hope that I can help with whatever difficulties you may be having," she said in a throaty voice. "Doctor," Carol said, "I feel that we have a lot of stress in our marriage – not real serious problems, or at least not yet, but I love Don, and I know he loves me, and I want to make things work." Since Carol had said that, I nodded in agreement, and added, " I do love Carol very much, and while I agree that I don't think we have major problems, I don't want anything to spoil our marriage."
"Good, at least there's agreement on that! Some couples deny that there could even BE a problem until its too late. Let me tell you a few things about the way I work, because its a little different than what you might have heard or thought. I've found that the conscious mind often resists and fights any attempts at discussion of problems, and I understand that - its only natural and human. But its also counterproductive, and it just runs the cost of counseling up unnecessarily. Couples come back time after time, and rehash the same things, defending their own viewpoints. This just increases stress, and, quite frankly, is very frustrating for me, as well as them. So I've developed a technique, using hypnosis, that bypasses all the nonsense, and gets right to the heart of the matter." She must have seen a skeptical look cross my face, because she laughed and said, "I can understand the reluctance you might have to this, but please trust me, Don, it really works." We talked about it for a few minutes, and Dr. Welles explained that we would have some joint sessions and some just one-on-one. "Remember, I am a doctor, and I'm very mindful of the need for confidentiality. What I will do, just for the first individual session, is give each of you an audio recording that you can listen to, so you'll feel better about the process. But I think that the joint sessions, at least for now, shouldn't be taped, since you'll be interacting, is that OK?"
That sounded fair enough to me, and she said that she would test us for our ability to be hypnotized. She took a silver ball that was attached to a thin chain, and began to speak in a soothing voice, "You are starting to relax, and feel a little drowsy…" That was the last thing I remembered, until I heard her say "3-2-1, you're now awake." I felt like I had gotten a full night's sleep, and was wide awake, and I saw Carol waking up, looking the same way. I mentioned this to Dr. Welles, and she laughed, saying that she had given us a post-hypnotic suggestion that we should feel that way, "as an extra, no-cost bonus." She explained that we were both ideal candidates, having fallen into a deep trance with no difficulties whatever. She handed us each a CD, saying that she had done both a joint and individual sessions while we were out. For each individual session, the other person had been tuned out of the conversation. We thanked her, and left the office.
When we got home, we each played our CDs separately, as we had been instructed, and I was reassured when I heard mine. The questions she had asked me seemed pretty straightforward and to the point, but I was a little surprised at first to hear some of my answers. But listening again, I realized that the hypnosis had broken through my conscious thoughts to my true feelings. One example was when she asked me, "Don, how do you feel about having to help with household chores?" and I answered, "Well, I know that they have to be done, and I help. But I think that they are woman's work, and Carol should really do them. After all my mother did them all." If she had asked me that when I wasn't hypnotized, I had to admit to myself, I would have said something like, "I enjoy helping and sharing the work with Carol," keeping the true feelings hidden. Her next comment, or perhaps more of a suggestion was, "But if you are going to make your marriage a partnership, Don, don't you think you should share the work? After all Carol is going out and working just as you are." My response was "I guess you're right, but somehow that just seems, I don't know, strange to me." She then suggested, "Maybe you could try to open up your feelings and sensitivities a little, try to understand it from the woman's, Carol's, point of view." As I said, I was reassured, because what she said didn't seem outlandish, nor did it seem biased against men.
The next evening, we went back for another session, since Dr. Welles' technique was for relatively short, but intense, periods of counseling. She told us when we got to her office that we had made good progress for the first day, and that this next session would deal with sharing emotions and communication. I woke up from my session feeling wonderful again, and when she told us that she had given us post-hypnotic suggestions to consider things from the other person's point of view, it seemed to make sense. She said that all people have both a masculine and feminine side, but that training and conditioning in childhood suppressed the "other" side of us. I would therefore not let my emotions show as much as Carol would, since that's how I had been conditioned. Her suggestions would allow us to let the other side through more easily, bringing us to a more balanced perspective.
The next day, without thinking consciously about it, I did find myself thinking more about how what I might say to someone could affect their feelings, and I seemed to be more sensitive to their reactions to me. When Carol and I had dinner, I discussed this with her, and I realized as I was saying it, that I was opening up my own emotions more than normal. But this seemed very helpful, and our conversation was much more intense and satisfying than the usual. I stood at the sink, washing the dishes, and I gave a sudden start, because I knew that Carol hadn't asked me to do them, and I had hardly ever volunteered before. I thought about it for a second, and realized that I had reacted to her telling me that she had had an unusually tough day at work. But, I thought, that wasn't really such a bad thing, and our conversation had been much more pleasant than normal.
We again went to Dr. Welles' office, and she asked us how the day had gone, and whether we had experienced anything different. When I related the dishwashing incident, Carol burst into tears, and I was worried for a second. Then I sensed that she was reacting to my kindness, and thought that it was nice of me. Dr. Welles smiled, and said, "See, we're making progress already. Carol, what did you think of Don's doing the dishes at the time?" "I'm afraid that I didn't even think about it, Doctor," she said. "So each of you moved closer to the other's thought process, that's good. Tonight, we'll continue along the same path, and maybe reinforce the feelings of the 'other' side a bit." I woke refreshed again, and Carol and I went home.
The next morning I showered, and when I went into my underwear drawer, I found that Carol had obviously mixed up some of our wash when she had put it away. When I pulled out a pair of underwear, there was a pair of her lacy pink panties on top of the rest of my jockey shorts. I was going to say something to her, then realized how late it had been when she put the wash away last night, and that I would hurt her feelings. I held the panties in my hand, intending to just slip them into her drawer, when a weird thought struck me. Since I was obviously becoming more sensitized to my 'feminine' side, why shouldn't I put them on, to heighten the feeling of sensitivity? Without thinking any more about it, I slipped my feet into them, and pulled them up over my legs. They felt smooth and soft as I did, and when I nestled them around my cock and balls, I felt a kind of electric, erotic reaction to the silky material. In fact they felt wonderful, and I wondered why anyone would wear rough cotton jockey shorts, when nylon felt so good. I hurried to get dressed, and dismissed the thoughts, though as we went to work, and for the rest of the day, the smooth sensation kept returning and intensifying. By the time I got home, Carol was already waiting, and as we ate dinner, I confessed what I was wearing, and how the panties felt. "Why, of course, silly, panties feel wonderful, I could have told you that. And how nice of you to not mention my mistake this morning, I probably would have been upset all day," she said. "Can I see how they look?" she teased, and I felt myself blush. "Sure, why not, we have to change anyway," I said.
As I stood in the bedroom, naked except for my pink panties, Carol clearly saw the hardon I had. "Don, we have a little time before we have to leave to see Dr. Welles..." and before I knew it, she was stroking me through the nylon and lace. Without another word, we hopped into bed and made love, quickly and furiously. I didn't let her remove my panties, though, just allowing her to free my cock so she could impale herself on it, and bring both of us to climax. in record time. We couldn't linger in bed, because we would be late, so we threw on clothes, and drove to the office. As Carol was driving, I thought about our lovemaking, knowing that it was an abrupt departure from the Saturday night pattern we had fallen into. "Are you going to say anything to Dr. Welles about wearing my panties?" Carol asked me. I thought for a second, and said, "well, it might be a little embarrassing, but it really is a sign of progress, I guess. Especially when you take in the context of making love like we did." Carol hugged me, and we went inside.
Dr. Welles was a little amused by our story, and said that was a reaction some couples did experience. "How did you like wearing them, Don?" she asked. "It was strange at first, I guess, but then it made me feel good when I realized that men and women weren't all that different. Beside, they are more comfortable than jockey shorts." I felt myself blush when I said that, but she said, "It just shows you how traditional things are not always the best. We're just conditioned to think one set way. If panties are more comfortable, why should women be the only ones who wear them?" Then she said that it was time to get going, dismissing the incident. We went home, feeling cold from the midwinter air, and for the first time since our honeymoon, made love for the second time in one day. Again, I left my panties on when we made love, and I wore them all night as I slept.
The next morning, after I had showered, I asked Carol if I could borrow another pair of panties to wear. She said, "Sure, I don't blame you, they really are more comfortable." I pulled the black silky panties on, experiencing the same thrilling feeling as they nestled around me. The clock radio in our bedroom was on, as usual, and I heard the weather forecast: temperatures in the single digits all day long. "Shit," I said. I'll be freezing my ass off again. My coat and jacket keep the top of me warm, but the cold air always gets through my pants. Say, Carol, how can you stand to wear skirts in this weather, don't your legs get cold?" It was an innocent enough question, I thought, and when she answered, "Silly, that's why we wear pantyhose. They really keep you warm. Didn't Joe Namath advertise them years back, because he wore them under his uniform when it was bitter cold?" I thought back and agreed that he had, also thinking that it was a wonderful idea. I asked Carol, "Do you have a pair that...that I could borrow. Just to keep warm, of course." "I think I have an old pair that are pretty stretched out - they should be OK on you," she said, looking in her underwear drawer. She handed them to me, then we sat next to each other on the bed. I imitated the way she put them on, rolling each leg up my calves, then standing to pull them all the way up. "Hey, these are comfortable, too," I said, feeling the sheer nylon clinging and caressing my whole lower body. As I walked around the room in my panties and pantyhose, the brushing of my thighs together sent almost dizzying waves through me. My male side fought back, not letting me express that to Carol, but that didn't stop how wonderful they felt.
All day, I kept thinking to myself how lucky I was to be so nice and warm and comfortable, and I pitied my male co-workers who weren't as lucky as I was. "Poor fools," I thought, if only they knew how easy it was to be feeling the way I did. That night, when we had finished eating, I realized that because we had made love last night, we hadn't done the dishes. Without thinking, I went over to the sink, and began to do the two-night's accumulation. Carol came over and kissed me, sending a spark through me which was compounded by the intense feelings I was already getting from the panties and hose with every motion I made. To tell the truth, I had been glad that they held me in so firmly, since they had been causing me to have a hardon all day long.
That night's session was similar, and I felt really happy that Carol had suggested we go for counseling, as our marriage had already improved. That night, when we went to bed, I reluctantly removed my pantyhose, leaving my panties on, though. We made love again, and as we lay there afterward, I told Carol how much I loved her, and my feelings about the counseling. She hugged me tightly to her, giving me a warm feeling all over. She put on a long nightgown, and turned over to go to sleep. When she moved away from me, I felt a chill all over. I said, "I wish you could hold me all night and keep me warm. All of a sudden I'm freezing." "Sorry about that, dear," she said, but you insist on just wearing shorts, or I should say, panties to bed. I'm nice and comfy in my nightie." I lay there thinking how unfair it was, and I kept getting colder and colder it seemed. I could hear Carol's breathing fall into the deep rhythm of sleep, but I couldn't seem to doze off. After a half hour or so, I got up and put on an undershirt. But, though it seemed to help the top of me a little, it still left my legs freezing. I said, "the hell with it," took off my undershirt, and going into Carol's drawer, I pulled out one of her nightgowns. I slipped it over my head, feeling the sensation as the nylon slid down my body, and got back into bed. I could only think about the sensations for a minute or two, because I fell to sleep almost immediately.
I woke up feeling wonderful, and when I got out of bed, I didn't realize, at first, what I was wearing. Carol said, "I guess you really must have been cold, Don." Then I blushed, and said, "I hope you don't mind that I borrowed your nightie. But I was freezing, and as soon as I put it on, I was able to fall asleep." "Don't be silly, of course I don't mind. After all marriage is all about sharing, and I'm willing to do my part, as long as you don't stretch everything I own out of shape," she laughed. I gave her a big hug and kiss, then went in to shower. I took off my nightgown and panties reluctantly, and when I was drying myself off, I wondered a little why I had felt the urge to wear Carol's things, but she hadn't had the urge to wear mine. The answer popped into my head immediately, drowning out the errant thought. "Because women's clothes are so much nicer, and softer, and feel so wonderful, stupid!"
Even though it was going to be warmer today, according to the radio, I still felt I might be cold, so after I put on the panties, red today, that Carol handed me, I pulled on the pair of pantyhose from the day before. They didn't feel quite as good, having lost that newly washed feeling from yesterday's wearing, but they still felt pretty wonderful. I did my work that morning, and when I took a break for lunch, the thought popped into my head about how nice Carol had been, letting me borrow her things. But I realized that it wasn't fair for me to keep doing that. Without thinking, I found myself walking into a department store, and headed for the woman's department. I was usually self-conscious about doing this, being embarrassed as hell at Christmas time when I bought Carol a robe, or nightgowns. I wandered around in an unconscious-like state, only snapping out of it when the sales clerk said, "You must be a great husband, treating your wife to all these new things. Is it your anniversary or her birthday?" I saw her holding a large bag in her hand, and I said, "Neither, just a little treat."
I walked out of the store, not even knowing what was in the bag. I went into the men's room with the bag, since I don't have a private office where I could check out the contents. Looking inside the bag, I found a half-dozen pairs of panties, the same number of packages of pantyhose, and three nightgowns! There was an assortment of vivid colors, and I couldn't resist touching each thing, before I closed the bag, and got back to my desk. I hurried home that night, and confessed to Carol what I had done, but she just smiled and said, "That's OK, at least I won't have to worry about having things get stretched out, or doing my undie wash as often." I told her that I wasn't particularly hungry, but that I wanted to shower before we went to Dr. Welles' office. I went upstairs, stripped off my clothes and took a quick shower. When I had dried off, I opened the bag, and put on a pair of the panties I had bought. They were a different size than Carol's I saw, and fit me better. For some reason, I had the urge to try on all of them, and I was soon in a whirlwind of panties, not being able to decide which ones I would wear for the evening. I heard Carol's voice, "Hon, are you OK, we've got to get started." "Y...yes, I'm fine, I'll be down in a jiffy." I left on the lacy pink panties I was wearing, and opened up a package of pantyhose. As I drew them over my legs, I could feel how much better they fit than the old pair Carol had lent me. They were firm control, and they really fit themselves around my legs and butt. The control top pulled in my belly, giving me a great feeling of togetherness. I noticed that these, too, were in a different size than Carol's, but they fit me perfectly. A random thought came into my head, how ugly the hair on my legs looked under the pantyhose, but I dismissed it as I hurried to finish dressing.
The next week passed quickly, but there were some noticeable changes. I didn't even think about what I was going to wear panties and hose went on automatically every morning, and a nightgown to keep me warm at night. But Carol and I were making love nearly every night, and when Carol mentioned to me that I could use a haircut, I told her that I thought I would let it grow for a while, and maybe try a little longer style. Our sessions continued each night, of course, and I always had the same wonderful feeling when I woke up. Carol said that she did, too. I must have been getting out of shape, I thought to myself one morning. Somehow my body seemed to be getting softer, not as muscular as I had been. "I'd better start working out," I said to myself, then discarding the idea, because between work and the counseling sessions, there was certainly no time to go to a gym. But I made up my mind that I would start after the month of counseling, because I didn't like the way my pecs seemed to be getting flabby.
It was the Friday night at the end of the second week, and as we sat in the office after our sessions, I was disheartened to hear Dr. Welles say, "I was so optimistic last week, because you had made so much progress, but we seem to have stalled this week. There was that initial surge of trying to experience things from each other's point of view, but it hasn't been fully realized yet." I almost felt like crying, because I thought that I had been making every effort, and I was sure Carol had, too. "But Doctor, I've really been trying to let my female other side out, every day. Its just that I get wrapped up in office stuff, and I let myself drift back into old habits," I said. Carol chimed in, "I agree with Don, I'm finding the same thing myself. I try to think guy-thoughts, to experience things from his viewpoint, but its hard to do when its so easy to slip back into conditioning."
"Well, this is something I've seen before, and it can be worked through. What I would recommend, and its lucky that the weekend is coming up, is a prolonged period of total role reversal. You should each live each other's life for the whole weekend, to reinforce what you're trying to accomplish." This seemed silly for a second, but then the brilliance of the idea flashed into my head. A whole weekend of being a woman would certainly strengthen the thought process for me, and being a guy for a weekend would let Carol understand things better. Then the practical aspects of the plan struck me, and I said, "but Doctor, it'll cost a small fortune for us to go and buy all the clothes we'll need, just for this weekend. Isn't there some other way?" "No, Don, I really think a reinforcing weekend is needed, but as I said, this isn't the first time I've encountered this problem. In fact, I have a pretty extensive wardrobe that I'll let you borrow from, since I agree that it would be an unwarranted expense." That pretty much resolved the issue for me, and she suggested that we each go with her, separately, to choose what the other person would wear. I went into an adjoining room with her first, and she opened a large walk-in closet, filled with men's things. "They're arranged by size, Don, and everything on this side should fit Carol well. There was everything a guy could ask for, from jeans to tuxedos. "Doctor, I feel a little guilty about one thing, do you think Carol has to wear these," I said, pointing at the men's underwear. "I know what you said about total role reversal, but ... now that I know how comfortable panties are, I'd hate to think of her wearing these uncomfortable boxers or jockey shorts."
"Why Don, that's so nice of you, considering Carol's comfort that way. I would suggest that you pick out a couple of pair of each, but I'll mention how you feel, and not insist that she wear them." I made my selections, basically choosing one of each garment, and a couple of sets of underwear, putting them all into a suitcase. We returned to the office, then Carol went into the room, obviously headed for the other large closet, where I presumed the women's things were. She returned with a suitcase, and with Doctor Welles' final instructions, "Now it must be for the whole weekend, remember, no chickening out. And it must be a total reversal, everything, from clothes to chores to what you call each other." We said "Goodnight" and Carol hopped into the driver's seat, my normal spot when we got to the car. I started to say something, when Carol said, "We might as well start now, I'll drive, babe!" I chuckled and got in next to her.
The thought of how much I was looking forward to the weekend kept popping into my head, because I wanted us to succeed in our marriage so very much. When we got home, Carol got out of the car and hurried over to open my door for me. This was something I usually did for her, and it was pretty amusing. We went inside, and Carol confessed, "I'm feeling a little funny about this, Don, how about you?" "Come on, Carol," I said, Doctor Welles said it would be good for us. Besides, it seems like more of a weird experience for me, than you. After all, you wear pants most of the times on weekends, anyway. But wearing the dresses I'm sure you picked out for me will be really different." But as I said it, it didn't seem all that weird, in fact it seemed that my mind was really looking forward to it. "And," remembering what we had been told, "I think you should call me Donna for the weekend. Is Carl all right with you?" "I guess so, Don..na," she said, "if you're really OK with this, I guess I am, too."
For someone who had expressed her doubts like that, she really seemed to get into it then. "Well, let's go, Donna, its time to get started on your beauty routine before bedtime," she said, taking my hand in one of hers and the suitcase in the other, and practically dragging me upstairs. While I got out a pair of boxers and a T-shirt for her to wear, she started taking things out of the suitcase for me. To my amazement, there were not only clothes, but a wig as well, a long blonde one. We took off the clothes we were wearing, except for my panties, and she put on the underwear. "Yuck, these feel all scratchy," she said, "how do you guys stand them?" "Why do you think I've changed over to panties, Carl. They're so much more comfortable!" I resolved to myself that after tonight I'd suggest she wear her own undies, and tell her what Doctor Welles had said.
Then we turned to the things she'd laid out for me. First, she put the wig on my head, and I felt the brush of hair against my shoulders for the first time. Rather than being upsetting it felt pretty nice. Then she picked up a bra, surprising me. "But I don't have anything up there, Caro...Carl." "Let's try it on anyway, and she slipped the straps over my arms, fastening the back hooks. I looked down, as she came around in front of me, adjusting the cups, and saw that my pecs, which I had thought were getting flabbly, actually molded themselves inside the cups, though not nearly filling them. She slipped silicone breastforms into each cup, over my own flesh, and I saw my first pair of breasts. "Aren't they a little big, dear?" I asked. "Oh. please, Donna, you know how we guys like a nice set of jugs on our women," she teased back. The silicone forms warmed up to skin temperature, and their weight felt heavy on my chest. "I never realized, or thought about what breasts might feel like," I confessed, "it seems like they're so heavy they're pulling me over."
She slipped a nightie over my upraised arms and head, and I kind of shook my head to free my long blonde hair. "Well, that's over with. I'm really tired, hon, let's go to bed," I said. "Not so quick," she smiled, "a woman has a whole bunch of other things to do. Come with me." She led me over to her dressing table, and began to look carefully at my face. "While you normally wouldn't wear any makeup to bed, if you're going to experience being a woman for the weekend, there are a few things...." She took out a pair of false eyelashes, and glued them into place. When I blinked, they brushed against my face, feeling very odd. She took a pair of tweezers and plucked out a few of my eyebrows, not really changing them all that much, just thinning them out a little bit, and maybe a hint of shaping. Though they looked rather feminine, I didn't think it would be that noticeable on Monday. Next she started putting a dark green cream all over my face, explaining that this was a facial mask that was worn to bed, and which would clean out all my pores. While we were waiting for the mask to dry, she glued nail-tips on each of my fingers, extending them a good half-inch, with a definite feminine shaping. She applied a bright red polish to them, then knelt down in front of me and did the same to my toenails. A tiny voice inside me wanted to protest, but as I looked at myself in the mirror, even the green goo on my face couldn't stop me from admiring how feminine I was becoming. When everything was dry, she got a pair of high-heeled black mules, with feathery pom-poms on the front and put them in front of me.
I hadn't really given any thought to wearing heels, but when I put them on, I found they were my size and quite comfortable. Holding her hand, I stood up, and practiced walking around in them. I could feel how the strange height affected the way I stood and walked, and I swayed my butt in an exaggerated fashion, teasing her. "You don't want to shake those buns too much, dear, I'm starting to get turned on," she said. "Oh, come on, I'm a mess with this goop on my face, don't tell me I'm turning you on." In spite of how tired I was, though, I have to admit that being dressed and madeup this way was turning ME on. "You still look pretty sexy to me, Donna, and you do turn me on." I began to say how tired I was, but I saw that it was no use, she definitely was horny. And even though I was saying "No" I knew I really meant "Yes".
She led me over to the bed, and lay me down. I had my legs together, but she started kissing me, and gently spread them apart. She lay down inside them, and her wet pussy slid down over my cock. It almost felt like she had the cock that was between us, and my legs involuntarily wrapped themselves around her. My high-heels must have been digging into her back, but that seemed to excite her even more. Suddenly, she gave a shudder as she climaxed, then she rolled off me. I wanted to scream, because I hadn't come yet, but before I could say a word, she said, "Thanks dear," and rolled over, and went to sleep! I knew that I had done that sometimes, but it was very different with the high-heels on the other foot. I lay there, horny and frustrated, not fully understanding yet what I had let myself in for. My cock, now tucked back into my panties was hard as a rock, and after a little while, I fell into my own troubled sleep. I wasn't very comfortable at all - the breasts on my chest made it difficult to lay on my stomach, and the facial mask had hardened into an almost granite-like texture. I was thankful that she hadn't put rollers in my hair as well, or I'd never have been able to sleep.