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Latex Suburban Housewife

by Misti Love-Fitzpatrick

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© Copyright 2020 - Misti Love-Fitzpatrick - Used by permission

Storycodes: M2f; MF; oral; latex; leather; fpov; sex; vag; bikini; foot; climax; lingerie; majick; naked; rom; cons; X

Continues from

Chapter 6

The day before I left for the United Arab Emirates, Phillip Goldstein, my boss at the hedge fund and my Master, said he wanted to bid me farewell. We met in the massive Library in his mansion. A large, old book with a drawing of a large key on the cover rested in front of him.

“I’ll be gone for only a month, Master,” I told him. Despite his celibacy - or more likely due to it - I wore a short black leather jacket without a blouse or bra underneath, a skintight royal blue leather miniskirt, and black leather thigh-high boots with a platform heel.

Like waves of heat shimmering in the distance, the sexual tension between us was visible on Mr. Goldstein’s face. I could tell he was fighting it, as was I.

“I suspect it may be longer than that, Patricia. Either way, I can no longer be your Master,” he said in his typical even-keeled voice. “I am releasing you, but you always will be the special one for me. Your transformation is a great miracle. It is time for you to pursue your life’s work.

“There’s a passage in this book, in Latin, that I expect will help you along your path: ‘Qui facis mirabilia magna solus finis coronat opus,’ or ‘You who act alone with great miracles; the end shall crown the work.’”

I never forgot those words. As we kissed for the last time, I felt the taste of his soul on my lips and the brief aftertaste of smoke, which signified death to me.

Yusuf Barzigan’s private jet had room for 18 passengers. It was full as we took off from New York City for Dubai. On the long flight, I met each person. I appreciated how welcoming they were. Most of them had worked for Yusuf’s multinational corporation for several years, including his chief of staff, Katarina.

She was 51 years old, German, pretty with shoulder-length dark brown hair, a trim build, and a warm smile. Katarina exuded mastery of her job. After takeoff, we chatted for a few hours and she put me to work, handing me a thumb drive with dozens of documents about the business deal Yusuf was trying to seal. If she knew I was his new girlfriend, she didn’t show it. (I later learned she did know. It was her job, she told me, to try to know everything.)

I sat next to Yusuf and Katarina on the flight and learned more about his businesses. Shortly before we landed at Dubai International Airport, I changed into a dress that covered my arms and legs. A limousine spirited us to the hotel. My room was on the floor below Yusuf’s.

The next month was a blur – limousines shuttling us between our hotel and meetings at companies and banks; helicopters taking us to Yusuf’s massive super-yacht that cruised off the shore in the Persian Gulf.

The negotiations over the deal never seemed to end. I spent a lot of time with Yusuf, but not much alone. We would steal a kiss in his hotel room and have to head out for another appointment, often in the 160-story Burj Khalifa. He apologized several times for the tight schedule, but I insisted there was no need to do so. I was learning so much and I loved the city.

After three weeks had passed, Yusuf informed Mr. Goldstein what I already knew – that he would invest $750 million in his hedge fund. I received an eloquent text from Mr. Goldstein thanking me for my work.

A week later, I was on the super-yacht, where I was getting my nails done, when I received a text from Yusuf.

Patricia, I have some good news. The deal is done. Lawyers are taking a last look

Congratulations, Yusuf. The long hours and your perseverance and hard work paid off

Thank you so much for your work this month. I have even better news, but I’ll wait until I see you

Great, Yusuf. I have a surprise for you too. I’ll be at the stern

In the evening or late at night, Yusuf and I usually had a glass of wine at the back of the super-yacht, where we had more privacy and could watch the sun set. My surprise was the bikini I had bought in New York City. It was made of perforated black leather, with caged detail, string ties, and a pucker back bottom.

It was almost midnight when Yusuf’s helicopter arrived. He smiled as he saw me pouring champagne into glasses made in Spain.

“Congratulations on your accomplishment,” I said, handing him a glass and eager for his kiss. 

“You look so stunning in that bikini. But first, a question. I’ve asked Mr. Goldstein if I can offer you a job – the same one you’ve done so well over the past month and he said yes. Will you accept it?”

“Of course, I will Yusuf,” I said excitedly. He French-kissed me, the first time he had opened my mouth with his tongue. He placed his hands on the small of my back above the skimpy bikini bottom and then on the leather that separated him from my hot ass. Taking me by the hand, he led me toward the super-yacht’s bridge.

“Where are we going?” I asked, but he didn’t respond. Reaching the master bedroom, he locked the door. With my back facing him, he made fast work of the bikini top. Yusuf kissed my shoulders and up to my neck as he caressed my tits, kneading my nipples and making them even harder. I began to sigh as Yusuf and I entered a world only the two of us would occupy.

“Is this really happening?” I asked him.

“It feels like a dream to me too. But it’s real, very real as you’re about to find out.”

Picking me up, he gently set me on the bed and began to kiss my feet. A man never had done that before with me. I found it highly erotic, his tongue licking slowly across my arches to my toes, which were manicured and painted black to match my bikini. He took them in his mouth, sucking each toe and then all of them at once, the tip of my foot in his greedy mouth.

The heat rose up through my body to my sex. I felt the muscles of my vagina contract and I began to ache for him. He took off his suit jacket and his grey tie. I felt his tongue on my ankles, up to my knees, and to the bottom of my thighs.

“Oh, Yusuf,” I whispered as our eyes locked. His hazel-colored eyes were knowing and brimming with excitement. He parted my long legs and slowly kissed a line up my left thigh, stopped before my cleft, and did the same on my right thigh. I arched my back as I repeated his name. My pussy juices had soaked the bikini bottom. I never had been wetter.

“Patricia, your nectar smells so sweet,” he whispered. Moving his body up on the bed, he kissed me, the tip of his tongue against mine in a dance in which he ultimately took the lead. I unbuttoned his white dress shirt. His muscular chest was full of black hair and I placed my arms around his biceps.

“You’re like a Greek God, Yusuf.”

He smiled and kissed me, his lips moving to my neck and lowering to the spot between my breasts. I felt my breath become heavier. My nipples felt so tender as Yusuf licked around them and took the tips of my breasts into his mouth, alternating between them. He used his tongue on my nipples as he sucked. My breath quickened as I watched him feast.

I felt white-hot lust take over me. I used my right hand to tousle the back of his head, gently running my long nails painted black through his short, black hair. He kept sucking on my breasts. I was more than aroused. I was so close to losing all control. 

My feminine desire guided me, intensified by the sight of his naked back and torso. I reached down to touch the suit pants that concealed his butt and moving them down slightly, I saw he was wearing white silk boxers.

Yusuf kissed his way from my cleavage to my navel, and then to the spot right above my black leather bikini bottom. I couldn’t avoid a whimper as he kissed the black leather covering my pussy and playfully toyed with the straps holding the bikini bottom in place.

I couldn’t breathe, but I forced out the words.

“Yusuf, I need to tell you something,” I said, my voice barely audible. “I’ve never had a man perform cunnilingus on me.”

“Do you want me to be the first, Patricia?” he asked.

“Oh God yes, Yusuf. I want that very much.”

He slipped the bikini bottom off and I exhaled. I felt his breath on my pussy and I clutched the bed sheets with both hands. A crescent moon bathing the Gulf’s waters provided me with enough light to see his velvet lips on my pussy for the first time. 

Perhaps calibrating that line between teasing and entering my garden for the first time, he moved slowly, kissing my slit up and down before sliding his tongue inside me.

“You’re driving me wild, Yusuf,” I whispered.

I was so wet that his tongue drew a string of pussy juice from me. His tongue flicked my clitoris a few times and I was certain I was about to explode. But he walked me back, taking me from the brink of nirvana to the pleasure of anticipation. His tongue moved in a calculated, steady rhythm. 

Looking into my blue eyes, Yusuf slid his right index finger inside me and kissed my clit as if it were my lips. He pushed on it lightly. I sighed and then moaned as he began to lick my clit, adding a second finger inside my box. 

I felt the first flourish of his dominance as he held my wrists. He was a large physical presence - 6’2” and 225 pounds of muscle - but what I felt went far beyond what his body offered. I felt the power of his masculinity focused solely on me and it made my heart race.

His expression showed pure bliss as I came, his tongue so fast and steady through the soaked folds of my pussy and circling my clit. I released my pent-up desire in a scream of ecstasy as I felt waves of heat seize and release me. Yusuf’s beard and mustache were coated with my pussy juice. Sharing its sweetness, he kissed me and we cuddled.

“I want to do you,” I said.

“Let’s go slow, my flower. I have another surprise for you.”

That night, we flew on one of his private jets to Berlin and it was there that Yusuf took me behind the veil, showing me his romantic side and then his appetite for latex fetish.

Yusuf owned a townhouse in Alt-Treptow and it was here that I shared his bed for the first time. Exhausted from a month of hard work in the UAE, he immediately fell asleep that first night. I had begun to keep a journal and I wrote down my thoughts as he slept like a baby next to me.

We’ve discussed our childhoods. He understands how mine was marked by my gender dysphoria. I understand how his family lost their wealth because of politics in Iran and why they moved to France – and how it drove him to become a successful businessman. I have overheard him refer to me as his ‘girlfriend’ and he has told me I am. On his super-yacht, I became his lover and now I am sharing his bed as I write this. I am falling in love with him. I wonder if he is feeling the same way about me.

In the morning, relaxing at a café where I began to practice my German, Yusuf asked me what I thought about the month in Dubai.

“It ended really well on your super-yacht,” I replied with a smile, referring to Yusuf performing cunnilingus on me.

He laughed. “Agreed, but I was referring to the business part.”

“I could follow the discussions to a point, but then I got lost. I only have an undergraduate degree and part of a year of graduate school,” I explained.

“I have a proposal for you. I own a financial management firm here in Berlin. I’d like you to be trained so that you can become the CEO. It’s where Katarina got her start. It would be a two-year transition, a crash course in high finance.”

“Yusuf, I appreciate that, but I don’t have much experience. I’m only 22 years old.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. Men don’t have experience. That doesn’t stop them,” Yusuf replied. “I know dozens of men your age with less talent than you pursuing their ambitions. I know you can do this. I know you’re ready.”

I appreciated what he said, but I hesitated to respond. I didn’t know what to say and I could tell Yusuf had something else on his mind.

“There’s something very important I want to tell you. I felt an attraction to you when we first met, based on your beauty and how you carried yourself. I felt something deeper when we spent time at my country club and of course, the month in Dubai. I began to know the woman beneath the surface – and I learn more every day that we are together. Which is to say, I’m falling in love with you, Patricia.”

“And I’m falling in love with you, Yusuf.”

He kissed me, his lips light like the first time.

“I would train you at the firm and we’d live here in Berlin,” he said. “Do you agree, Miss Vogel?”

“I do.”

“So I heard Mr. Goldstein had a dossier compiled on me?” Yusuf said a few days later, as we shared dinner in his townhouse. I had been eager to show off my new cooking skills. 

“Who told you that?” I replied, pouring him a glass of Shiraz wine.

“I had a mole who gave me a copy. First name starts with a B.”

“Brian?” I asked, shocked that the ex-military officer who handled security for Mr. Goldstein would leak the dossier. “Why do you bring that up?”

“Oh, there was a section that said, oh, let me find it.”

I watched him fiddle with his phone. He was wearing a navy blue polo shirt and tight jeans.

“Here it is: ‘He has had two relationships, but they were short-lived. In each one, he bought the woman’s clothing and decided what she would wear.’ That’s false.”

Pausing for emphasis, he said: “I’ve had four relationships.”

Finishing my glass of Shiraz, I replied: “What about the clothing?”

“That part is true.”

I examined his expression and stifled a smile. He looked like a little boy who had said something naughty. But that look didn’t last long. It was replaced by an intensity in those hazel eyes that captured the male Dominant. I had seen it first when he had licked my pussy, but now it was even more intense. It was the essence of his pure masculinity and I felt myself fall under his spell.

“I have a vision for how you will dress as a businesswoman, a signature look for when you become a star. It is a look that I’m told you are familiar with – although this style will be tailored, literally, for a woman who possesses power. I’ve left an example of this look in the bathroom. Go put it on.”

An hour later, I emerged from the bathroom. Yusuf was standing by the window overlooking the street, bustling with people heading to and from the shops and cafes.

The latex dress I wore was knee-length and in two colors, Pearlsheen pewter and black. It had long sleeves, a low-cut neckline, and a slit in the back. I never had worn such luxurious latex – with a thickness of 0.35mm.

“So this would be a signature look in the workplace?” I said as Yusuf turned to face me. I also wore the black leather pumps with a five-inch stiletto heel he had left for me.

“Are you ready to sign up?” he asked.

“More than ready, Yusuf.”

I knelt in front of him as he closed the curtain. The second skin of the dress and the prospect of wearing it at work as the most powerful person in the room filled me with a carnal hunger.

Removing his shoes and socks, I took off his belt and ran my right index finger over the outline of his erection through the denim. Because the jeans were tight, I could tell he was wearing briefs; the shaft was coiled. I could not wait any longer to release it.

A steel bar could not be harder than this cock.

Long, thick and a beautiful shade of dark brown, Yusuf’s cock unfurled as I slipped off his white briefs. I knew immediately he might be more than I could handle. In addition to his length, I knew that his thickness would test my mouth. I began by wrapping my lips around his cockhead, leaving traces of fire-engine red lipstick. I tasted the first drops of his semen and savored its slightly salty taste.

“Patricia, oh yes.” His voice sounded deeper and slightly husky. “Do you swallow?”

“Only you, Yusuf.” I paused and added: “You have such a big cock.”

“Do you want it?” he asked innocently, knowing the answer but enjoying the question.

“Oh baby, I do.”

I felt his heavily-veined cock throb as I licked his shaft. I kissed and sucked his cockhead. I licked a line from the crest of his head to the base of his shaft and took him into my mouth, deeper than I thought I could. I swirled my tongue around his shaft as I felt his black pubic hair against my nostrils. In my right hand, I gently cupped his balls, swollen with his precious seed. I carefully took them in my mouth before returning to his erection.

His cock had traces of my red lipstick all over it. I resumed sucking his cockhead, looking up into his eyes as I breathed in the scent of his manly heat. My hunger for him could not be denied. I added an inch, then two, then three. I sucked him slowly and took more and more of his 12-inch shaft inside my mouth.

I moved faster. He was close. I could sense it in his breathing. His sighs turned to low moans. The sounds of my cock-sucking filled the room. I was desperate for his orgasm and with a thrust matched by a shout, he sent a stream of cum down my throat – thick, pungent, and warm. I swallowed his semen, proud that I got every drop and nothing drizzled out of my mouth.

And not a drop on my beautiful new latex dress.

Six months later

The phone call came in at 4 p.m. on a busy Friday. Yusuf was training me at his Berlin-based financial management firm, YSB (his initials) Kapital. But on this day, he was in Beijing on a business trip.

“Fraulein Vogel, there is a call from a Judith Goldstein from the U.S.A.,” my secretary told me. “Should I connect her?”

I said yes, intrigued because I had not heard from the Goldsteins since I left the States.

Her voice choked with emotion. At first, she could not talk. A few words came out and she stopped. I realized it was 5 a.m. there.

“Patricia, something terrible has happened. Phillip has been killed in a fire at a building that he owned. He was with Loc, and both of them were killed.”

I sat down, stunned by what she had told me and unsure on my feet. I didn’t speak for ten seconds or so as I listened to her fight back tears. Dazed, I asked what happened.

“The fire department said there had been an explosion, likely from the manufacture of chemicals. It appears they both died of smoke inhalation. It was the building where they administered the Elixir. It’s burned to the ground. Nothing is left,” she said.

I hadn’t cried like this in a long time. The man who had given me the gift of transformation was gone, along with the kind man who had been there when my life had changed forever.

Yusuf and I flew to the States to attend the funeral, held at a temple near the mansion where Phillip and Judith had lived. The finality of it was bracing. Employees of the hedge fund filled the pews and many of Loc’s relatives from Jamaica were there. The police had closed the investigation, concluding that the fire was accidental and not delving into what type of business it was.

Afterwards, at the mansion, where the wake was held, Judith took me aside.

“Patricia, Phillip told me you never pressed him about the details behind your transformation,” she said.

I acknowledged that was true. I told her that I trusted him and knew he wanted to keep information about the Elixir a secret. Judith said all those secrets had died with him and Loc. She said she needed to confide in me about one thing.

“My husband was a scientist, but he also was involved in the occult. He told me that you saw a book he was reading. It had a drawing of a key on the cover.”

I said I remembered it.

“He became aware of that book because part of it is in Hebrew. The title is `Clavis Inferni,’ which translates into “The Key of Hell”

“Phillip practiced white magick. He read that book to understand black magick, but he never used it. White magick is what helped make the Elixir work. Your soul is the essence of purity. He wanted you to know that, but now he can’t tell you himself.”

Judith and I embraced. I didn’t know what to think about what she said. I was going to say something like on a card, something like: “He’ll always be in my heart” but I spared her.

To be honest, I was thinking at that moment about how wet my pussy got when Mr. Goldstein whipped me.

Two years later

As Yusuf had said, I never should have underestimated my ability to learn the complexities of high finance. After a year of training from Yusuf, I became CEO of YSB Kapital and unveiled my signature look of expensive latex outfits.

We began to split our time between Berlin and Paris. After enjoying a long dinner one night at the home of friends in the 7th arrondissement, we strolled through a small park within sight of the Eiffel Tower.

“Do you know what today is?” he asked.

“It’s the third anniversary of when we met,” I replied.

As the sun cast a golden glow over the city, Yusuf genuflected, bending his left knee to the ground.

“Will you marry me, Patricia Vogel?”

I was flooded with emotions from this life-changing surprise. 

 “Yusuf, I will. I will.”

He placed the white gold engagement ring set with a large diamond on my finger and rose to kiss me.

“My love for you has no end,” he said as we embraced.

We were married at the Musee Rodin, which was my choice. I wanted to get married in one of the rose gardens around the museum. We chose one with the top of the Eiffel Tower as a backdrop to commemorate our engagement. 

Yusuf’s best person was Katarina, his close friend and the chief of staff of his business empire. My bridesmaid was Melanie. Yusuf and I both wanted a large wedding. We had 500 guests on a picture-perfect sunny day in June.

Arriving at the altar, my eyes met Yusuf’s as he saw my bridal gown for the first time. I wore a white lace mermaid-style gown with an off-the-shoulder neckline and bustier bodice. My elbow-length gloves were sheer and encrusted with gems.

One of Yusuf’s closest friends from Iran officiated the ceremony. I was trembling as we exchanged vows, but Yusuf didn’t know why until we had declared the oath of man and wife.

As we walked down the aisle, I whispered in his ear: “I can’t wait for you to make love to me.” He kissed me and as we walked out of the church added with a devilish smile: “You have a predicament because there’s a long reception before we leave for our honeymoon.”

When our relationship became more serious, Yusuf had asked me whether I was a virgin. I said I was. He replied that he wanted me to remain that way until we got married – if that ever happened.

“I want to be your first,” he said.

We agreed, although I warned him that I’d be climbing the walls, which is exactly what happened for two years. Our sex life covered pretty much everything except for penetration – vaginal or anal. It didn’t keep me from my sex toys, but I never used them in front of Yusuf or even confirmed their existence.

Now, as the reception ended, I asked Yusuf to undress me in the small room where I had changed into my gown.

“Is that allowed?” he asked.

“Let’s write our own rules.”

When we arrived at the small room, I made sure we were locked in and no one could enter.

“You are such a beautiful bride,” he said.

“It’s the greatest day of my life, a fairy-tale affair,” I said, enjoying the white orchids that filled the room.

He slipped my gown off. I loved my bridal lingerie – a white lace bustier with white silk stockings attached, and matching panties.

Yusuf kissed a line that began at my chin, pausing at my neck until he moved into the spot between my breasts. He lowered the straps of my bustier and kissed my pointed nipples until I began to moan.

I felt his hand on my left thigh and he picked me up, taking me over to the large couch near the window. He closed the heavy white drapes, undressed until he was nude, and returned to the couch.

As he kissed me passionately, he spread my legs and I wrapped them around his back.

“You’re my wife. It’s time for me to make you mine forever.”

Looking deep into my blue eyes, Yusuf slowly slid his large cock inside me and covered my lips with his.

I had anticipated that his length would pleasure me, but that his thickness would make me burn – and I was right.

He was gentle, but even his thoughtfulness could not eliminate the sensual pain from his cock penetrating my tight vagina. I bit my lower lip as I slid along the edge of pain and pleasure. I reached up to wrap my arms around his neck as he eased his shaft in another inch. 

His breathing grew heavier as he moved deeper into my inner flesh, stretching it with his pulsing cockhead and veined shaft. I fought through the pain to channel my hunger, my desperate need for my man to be inside me fully.

“Oh Yusuf, that’s so good,” I whispered, verging on breathlessness as I watched his hips begin to thrust.

“Do you want more, honey? You’re so tight. I can’t believe how sweet it is inside you,” he whispered.

“I need more now, baby” I said, and moaned as he pumped me once, and then withdrew, the tip of his penis resting slightly inside my hot box.

The burning didn’t subside. It only grew as his cock entered me deeper and stretched me more. My pussy was so wet and my moans grew louder from discovering this newfound sensation of being filled. He was not a virgin. He had made love to other women and as I looked into his eyes, his mastery showed. 

I felt his cock deep inside my womb and I began to grip his shaft with my pussy. He reacted by moving his hips faster. As he began to pump me again, my breasts swayed from the force. Moving me slightly so he could grip my right thigh and left ankle in the air, he moved in and out of me faster, his penis like a machine with stunning precision.

I screamed as I came, the sound of my orgasm filling the room with sheer ecstasy. Yusuf let out a strangled groan as he sent several waves of cum inside me, his ejaculation powerful and lasting long. He was still erect as he withdrew from me, his body moving forward to cover me and then hold me.

After a relaxing two-week honeymoon with much lovemaking and white-sand beaches in the Cayman Islands, Yusuf and I returned to Paris.

“I have a surprise for you,” he told me as we returned to his place after dinner.

“Another one?” I replied, for the umpteenth time.

Yusuf told me that he had purchased Mr. Goldstein’s hedge fund from his estate. He and Judith had struck a fair deal. I was not surprised by this because he had mentioned his plans to do so, but I was caught off-guard by what came next.

“I was thinking we could buy a house near the country club. We’d still split our time between Paris and Berlin, but it would be a good investment. We’d have a familiar place to stay while I work in the States and perhaps it would be a good place to settle down later.”

A month later, we travelled to the States to close the acquisition of Mr. Goldstein’s hedge fund. Many of the employees, including the infamous Cheryl, had left the hedge fund after his death. They were replaced with other ambitious people – young and diverse by gender, race, and income, which is how Yusuf and I designed it.

We went horse-back riding at Yusuf’s country club. Afterwards, he snuck into the women’s locker room and barricaded the entrance so no-one could get in, he pulled my skin tight breeches down and fucked me senseless against a row of lockers.

Newlyweds, can’t keep their hands off each other.

On the final day of our visit, Yusuf said he wanted to show me a house. After spending most of the day at the country club, we drove to the nearby suburb of Smithtown. Spotting the street sign, I did a double-take. It said “Thistledown.”

I had seen it in my dream the night of my M2F transformation.

A white picket fence. A lawn with dark green grass that stretched to a stream. A black street sign with the word “Thistledown” in white letters. A woman in a large, expensive outfitted kitchen, looking outside at bright sunshine.

Yusuf parked the red Mercedes convertible in the driveway. He turned to look at me and said I was pale.

“Are you OK, honey?”

“I’m fine.”

“The house is empty. The real estate agent gave me the key. She’s out of town. We have the place to ourselves to look around and see if we like it.”

Continues from


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