The Moment of Truth

I was feeling very nervous.  Nervous.  And shy.  And exposed.  And humiliated.  I hadn’t seen my two best friends since my wedding.  And the reason should be fairly obvious.  There was no way that I could face them after what my wife had done to me since our wedding.  But they had been calling non-stop, and I knew they were suspicious that something was wrong. 

Finally, the other day, my wife told me it was time.

“Time for what?” I asked her.

“Time for you to face your friends.  And to tell them the truth.”

“The truth?  What truth?” I asked her, nearly in tears.

“That you are a sissy silly,” she explained, as if it was obvious, and that I was a dunce not to get it.

At first, they didn’t believe it.  Until my wife made me strip for them and show them two things.  One was my clitty, proving I was not really a genetic girl, despite how hot I looked.  The other was a tattoo the three of us had gotten on a Spring Break trip in college.  That was the cincher.

It disturbed me to see the erections forming in their jeans as I stood before them.  And it worried me too, because I feared my wife might get an evil idea and then, well, you know….