I can vividly remember the first time I decided I would feminise my husband. We had been going out for about 18 months and had celebrated living together for exactly three months by going down to the pub beside the laundrette for a drink or two while we waited for our clothes wash.

I had noticed pretty early on how Steve seemed entranced by my underwear and lingerie, but most especially by my panties. When we started dating he would come up from London every weekend and spend hours between my legs often leaving my panties on as he licked, sucked and kissed me to orgasm after orgasm and when we moved in together he was the one who always went to the laundrette while I went out with friends or just lazed around.

When I would get home all the laundry would have been sorted into their respective piles, his put away, mine laid out on the bed with my lingerie separated into bras, slips, hosiery, nightwear and two piles of panties: work and play!

The thing was that everything was always placed in pristine piles; apart from the panties where I could see that the original pile had been mussed up. That's when I began to suspect...

...I mean he really was too submissive as a sex partner; as a testosterone-driven, real man should be (I admit that my frustration with that aspect did lead me astray on more than one occasion when we were going out) and that fact, combined with his slight build and "average" attributes emboldened me to start buying larger dildos that I often masturbated with when he was out of the apartment.

What can I say, my pussy was used to having larger, thicker, harder cocks pounding me to orgasm, thrusting deep inside, stretching my pussy wide and using my dildos I could relive those experiences without any more cheating on my wonderful, now live-in boyfriend.

But it wasn't the same - fucking myself with a dildo - doing it top myself I could never capture the vigour and thrill of my lovers and so I knew I would have to admit my need for big cock to Steve in order to be able to bring my dildos into play in the bedroom.

I was very aware that this would mean belittling his penis and his love-making capabilities and that the introduction of something twice the size into our bed would totally demean and humiliate him. I was very aware that I would need to handle this with kid gloves or risk causing him untold psychological harm.

I must have struggled with how to approach the topic for over a month before our three month anniversary foray to the laundrette and pub and suddenly, after a couple of drinks, while I was watching him take everything from the dryer, fold them and place them carefully into the army surplus kitbag he always used, I noticed how reverently he handled my lingerie, taking extra care with it, touching it a just little more than was necessary and stowing it right at the top of the kitbag where it would remain less wrinkled on the journey home.

That was my "Eureka" moment. I realised there and then that I could introduce him to my toys in a way where he would feel it was all his idea. No long-term mental anguish, no end to our relationship and humiliation of the erotic kind.

I determined I would begin as soon as we got home!

When we were home on weekends Steve would sometimes smoke grass in the evenings. I was always happy when he did as he could spend hours touching, caressing and kissing me all over my body in the most erotic way before spending half the night worshipping my pussy and ass with his mouth.

When we got home I made tea for me and produced a pint of iced lemonade for him (his stoned tipple of choice!):

"What's that for Honey?" he asked, clueless of my nefarious intentions!

"I thought you'd like to roll a joint: to celebrate!" I knew he couldn't pass up on the opportunity of being stoned, with my blessing.

Sure enough, an hour and two joints later, he was spaced out and, from the way he was touching me, horny as hell. Now was the time!

"You should put the clothes away before you have any more Baby," I cajoled as his hands ran erotically along my calves, "I don't want my lingerie sitting in the bag overnight". I lingered over saying lingerie and saw from his expression that my use of the word had sparked a desire and a focus within that befuddled mind.

"I know that doing this is your thing," I said "but would you mind if I came in and watched this time? I'm enjoying all the attention you're giving me".

"Sure, sure, no prob...what? Of course! It's not like you need to ask!" he said, levering himself up off the floor and making for the bedroom; "I should've done it before having a smoke!"

When we got in there I sat on the bed watching him take my lingerie from the bag, refold everything and place them in neat piles, separated by use: "while you're at it Honey, I need more drawer space for my lingerie" I demanded, getting up from the bed "you don't mind if take over half your shirt drawer, do you?"

Without waiting for his response I dumped all the lingerie from the drawer into his; he almost had a meltdown watching the careless way I was treating my things and, with a muttered rebuke about how my mother should have taught me better, came over and took all my lingerie out to be sorted into the piles he had just set up from the clean clothes on the bed.

I made a joke of how I thought he liked my underthings more than he liked me and we began some good-natured bickering like an old married couple while I watched him touch, stroke, fold and sort my intimate clothing. He was very obviously stoned and very obviously entranced by each piece, to the point where his focus was so intense he seemed almost to forget I was watching him.

Now that he was stoned it was obvious that he was a total sensualist where my underwear was concerned. Different panty styles were treated differently, but all with a reverence that hinted at an inner, unspoken desire. It was exactly what I had been hoping to see.

And then, mid-sorting he held up a satin, powder-blue camisole and asked which pile he should put it in:

"That goes with my PJs"

"But I've never seen you wear it before! Why haven't you worn it for me?" he pouted "It looks really pretty. Where're the bottoms they should be with it?" and he started to search through the unsorted pile in front of him.

"I think they're probably in one of the other drawers, they're too long for me and the camisole's bra cup is too small to support my breasts comfortably" I went over to the drawers and rummaged through my stuff until I found the matching three-quarter length bottoms.

It was a sexy pair of PJs. The powder-blue satin was complemented with white lace bra cups and hem and ribbon spaghetti straps on the top with matching lace and ribbon detailing on the bottoms. Holding the bottoms against my waist I remembered why I didn't wear even this part of the set: "The bottoms go all the way down to my heels so I always feel like I'm stepping on the lace. It's uncomfortable. And I wear lots of sexy lingerie for you Honey and you never wear anything sexy for me!" it was my turn to pout.

"I think that outfit would probably fit you!" I said, "you have the legs for it and the small bra cups wouldn't be a problem!"

In the laundrette I'd been thinking of having him put on a pair of my panties, thinking that would begin the process whereby I could take out my dildos on the pretext that we were two girls having lesbian fun, thinking that, being stoned, he would get into the spirit of it and once they had been introduced I could always ask for them again, the next time we made love.

Now I was thinking that this could be something longer term. I was getting quite excited at the idea of having him sleep in sexy PJs and even nighties, with pretty panties on underneath, trapping his little penis and normalising the use of my big dildos.

"They don't really sell sexy boy's gear Honey", he said (this was in the days before online shopping!) but if there was ever anything you'd like me to wear for you I would!"

I hated myself for smiling evilly on the inside.

"I love seeing you in sexy lingerie Honey but to be honest I don't understand why you have so many different styles of panty. I mean, how many different styles does a girl need?"

He had given me my in: "Well now I simply have to see how you look in my satin PJs! You'll have to wear panties underneath, mind you, so you don't ruin the line, but that will give me a chance to educate you on the different uses of all my panties:" and without giving him a chance to back out I ordered him to strip down to his underwear and then put on my satin PJ bottoms.

He looked at me a little oddly as he picked them up but I was surprised he didn't protest a little more. I licked my lips as he put them on they looked good on him. He looked good in them! I could see his cock was hard.

I got off the bed and got on my knees in front of him, as if getting ready to give him a blowjob, but instead I began to lightly caress his legs through the material allowing it to whisper over his skin: "I see you really like my PJs" I stated.

"It feels amazing on my skin, Baby!"

"That's why I like wearing nice lingerie for you Sweetie. They really suit your legs and ass! Now why don't I illustrate why I have so many different types of panty?"

I moved my hands up and began stroking him through his underwear: "feel the difference? You may as well not be wearing the satin at all with those underwear on! And look at how visible they are through the PJs; they completely ruin the look! Take them off and I'll show you how good it looks and feels then"

He couldn't wait to get his boxers off him and put the bottoms back on. His little cock was sticking madly out, harder than I'd ever seen it before. I got up and moved him in front of the full-length mirror and stood behind him kissing his neck and nipping his shoulders while my hands went back down to stroke his cock and ass through only the satin material of the PJ bottoms: "see how good that feels? Isn't the sensation of the satin gloriously erotic as it slides over your cock and ass?"

He groaned as my hand wrapped around his little shaft and started jerking it off:

"but see how this hard, little thing is ruining the line of the bottoms? And your precum is making a dark little stain on the front which ruins the whole point of wearing it. Your sexy lingerie is supposed to tantalise and tease me, Sweetie, and that's why you have to wear a pair of panties that will hold your cock and balls tight against your body and won't make a visible panty line! You need a thong for that, will you wear on for me? So you can see how it works?

He was so horny at this point that he would have done anything I asked and I took full advantage:

"I want you to go over to the pile of thongs you've made and pick out the pair that you would like to wear: a pretty, sexy pair that you want to put on. Hurry!"

I watched him struggle with the choice. If you'd asked me I'm pretty sure I could have picked out the pair he wanted to choose but he picked out what I now assume was his second choice a red cotton string thong with a pretty, wide lace waistband which he put on. The small front panel just about encased his little erection and his balls and held them tightly against his body just the way I wanted them to.

I make him look at himself in the mirror before kneeling down and helping him put on the bottoms again and then, the coup-de-grace, I put the camisole over his head while he was admiring himself and began to tie the ribbon spaghetti straps over his shoulders and fix his nipples into the small, lace bra-cups.

I brushed his shoulder-length hair into a passable unisex style, took off all my clothes, pulled him over to the bed and began to make love to "Stephanie" with my mouth and my hands until she filled her panties with cum, staining the front of her PJs with the rewards of her excitement.

After gifting her an orgasm I knelt over her face, kissing her lips with my pussy lips, urging her to explore but you know boys after they've cum, they're useless though, to be fair he tried hard, but lacked enthusiasm.

"I need to cum too Stephanie!" I demanded. "If you can't do it I need you to get me a dildo from the drawer and fuck me with it!"

"A dildo?"

Don't pretend you don't know they're there, you're in my panty drawer more than I am! Get me a dildo now! A big one!" I ordered.

He went over to my drawer and pulled out the thickest dildo I had at that time. I still have it, 7 inches long with a girth of 4 inches (I named it Owen, that night, because it is very similar to an ex-boyfriend's cock and I wanted Steve to know what his little think had to compete with!). I was wet enough that I didn't need to lubricate it but, feeling exultant at what I had achieved that night I sucked on it wantonly as he watched and I described how wonderful it felt in my mouth, how big it was going to feel in my pussy.

And then I knelt over his face again and pushed it inside me, right in front of his wide, stoned eyes.

"Can you fuck me Baby; with this nice, thick cock? Please?" I pleaded "I really need it!"

I made him fuck me to three orgasms before I was done before collapsing beside him, stroking him idly through his wet PJs and telling him how much I enjoyed making love to Stephanie and how I couldn't wait to do it again.