Over the next few months, things took an unexpected turn for the better in our marriage. Mark started dropping by on the occasional Friday on his way back to his London home.

During those visits he talked to Helen about my cross-dressing fetish. I'd asked him to. He made it clear that it wasn’t a plea for help, nor did I want a sex change or anything drastic like that. He explained it was just me exploring my feminine side and it would be helpful if she was more supportive.

He also pointed out, that of all the kinks a guy could have, wearing women's underwear was pretty harmless: she agreed with him.

By this time it was obvious to her I was only ever going to watch, I didn’t participate. And there were a couple of  times when Mark even asked/told me to stay downstairs. I would sneak up and listen. I could hear the slap of a hand on her ass. But she realised he was in charge... of us both.

She understood that for me, it was about the thrill of being cuckolded by Mark—the humiliation of seeing another man take care of her in bed. And in her fantasy, she was his plaything and he was powerful enough to even control her husband..

But, as they say, all good things must come to an end. Mark eventually moved on, and we were okay with that. We had made it clear from the start that when it was done.. it was done. By then, our sex life had improved and Helen was fine with me wearing women’s underwear, even in bed and for last Christmas brought me an M&S bra, pantie and suspender set.