Wednesday, November 7, 2018

Following Up

It's interesting, she misses 'it' not 'him'.

I asked her about that, why the 'it' and not the 'him'.

"I don't know," Emily said, "I guess...I mean...I liked him...I liked him a lot, don't get me wrong, I just...I miss the other stuff, too. The flirting with different guys. Teasing you with different guys. Different guys. I don't know."

"So what are you doing...after..."

"After after? Losing the baby weight," she said touching her growing stomach, "fitting into a tight black dress again."


I pictured her, smiled. "I mean, are you seeing him again?"

"Maybe once for 'old time sake' or whatever, but I don't think...I don't know if I want to date him again."

"You just want to fuck him," I said. The words sound harsh, but my tone was anything but.

"Maybe," she smiled. "He's good. Really good. And I miss it, I do. I miss his...I don't know..."

"His masculinity," I suggested.

"Yea," she said. "He's got a way. His dominance. His...everything..."

"But..."

"I don't know," she said, "maybe I'm being silly."

"You...you don't have to," I said.

"Is that code for you don't want me to?" she asked.

"No. I mean...I don't want to suggest whatever you want is okay, but...I guess I feel like I want to give you some deference, too."

She reached over, touched me leg, smiled. "You're such a doll," she said. "I know you worry, maybe that's part of it."

"I trust you," I quickly said.

"I know, but you worry just the same, don't you? It's natural."

"I trust you," I said again.

"Do you trust him?"

I thought about it. "Oddly, I do."

"Why?"

"He doesn't seem like the type of guy to settle down."

"No," she laughed. "He's not. He's not that at all. I know he liked what we had but I really never got the sense he wanted more. That he wanted all this...the emotional intimacy. Heck, he's said it, hasn't he? He has emotional detachment issues. I'm not sure he's capable of love."

"I get that sense, too, Em, I suppose that's why I trust him."

"And here I thought I was giving you an out," she said.

"I thought the same," I said softly.

"God, here I am thinking you're worried about me falling for him, do I have to be worried about the opposite?"

"What's that mean?" I asked.

"Maybe you're the one I need to worry about!"

"Emily!"

"I'm just saying..."

"You're mean," I pouted.

"I'm teasing, Sara, I'm teasing. I get it it, I do. It seemed natural, didn't it, having a dominant man around."

"He just...I don't know..."

"Got us?" she asked.

"I suppose," I said.

"Well, we have awhile, don't we. To think about it."

"Yea," I said, "I suppose we do."


Thursday, October 25, 2018


We were in bed the other night; she was sitting on the edge and I was behind her, rubbing lotion onto her as I did most nights. I was gentle on her sore breasts, tender on her swollen belly, felt our growing child.

Emily was naked, I was feminized, of course, my clit safely under lock and key where it had been since we found out.

"You're such a doll," she said as I massaged her breasts and I could hear her breathing quicken, a sign I should massage lower at some point, a sign I received with increasing frequency lately. It was my fingers she seemed to desire, oiled fingers between her legs.

"I miss it," she said.

"It?" I asked.

"You know," she said.

"You...you're not..."

"God no," she looked back at me. "Not like this, never."

"You miss him?" I asked.

"No," she said, "that's the thing. I mean, yes, but it, really, all of it. Less him than it. I mean him, some, but more it. The way it makes me feel, the way you respond to it. I don't know if after he and I will..."

"S...someone else?"

"Perhaps, love, perhaps. I just miss...the newness...the flirting...the teasing. I miss you wondering, fantasizing, playing. Don't you?"

"I...I do," I said.

"It will be awhile, I know...but I miss it."

Play Time



Your wife has always been willing in the bedroom...so long as it was lights out, missionary position, plain, vanilla sex. A sort of "close her eyes and thing of England" view of intimate relations.

But that doesn't mean she doesn't like sex. To the contrary, she loves it.

With a man.

Ask him. Her man.

Ask him what she does for him.

The answer? Whatever she thinks he wants, whatever she thinks will turn him on, whatever he orders her to do.

With him, sex isn't an obligation, it's the raison d'ĂȘtre.

So there she is, in his bedroom on a Saturday night while you're home waiting.

There she is, in lingerie, on her hands and knees, legs spread, presenting herself to him.

Wet. Soaked. Begging. First with her eyes, then with her words.

"Fuck me, I'm yours," she says, over and over, until he does.



That awkward moment when you get home early, surprising your wife.


Friday, October 19, 2018

The Talk

"So, mom and I talked and I decided-she's right, it's best if she holds the key after the wedding."

"But Jessica," he exclaimed, "that...that's not fair!" He looked at his mother-in-law to be, knew she was harsher, much harsher than his fiancee. It had been her suggestion to try the chastity cage after she caught the two of them naked and on the verge.

"What's not fair?" the older woman asked.

"You...you don't understand a young man's urges."

"Oh, I understand them all too well, Daniel," she narrowed her eyes. "Urges we'll see are tamed one way or another."

"Jessica," he looked at his fiancee, "please, I...can't we talk about this...alone?"

"We can talk, Daniel," Jessica said, "but...but I already gave it to her."

"W...where is it?" Daniel asked, suddenly panicking.

The older women smiled. "In a box. In a package. On its way back to the West Coast. Where it will remain for the foreseeable future."

"But...but our honeymoon."

"Will be chaste...for one of you."


Sweetie, I know you like girls, but it's not really gay if we do it together.

Just think of it as you and I making love and inviting someone else to join us.


Sure, sucking cock sounds gay, but if you're doing it with me, how can that be?


After all, we're just sharing him, serving him, pleasing him together.


Well of course it will be messy, but I'll be there to help, trust me.

Monday, September 10, 2018

Convinced


Seeing your erection, your response to wearing sexy lingerie, your wife was convinced of two things. First, your protests that you didn't like dressing like a girl were total and utterly false. And second, she was installing you in a chastity cage, immediately, as you were never again going to be permitted to have an erection.

Monday, September 3, 2018

Just an update

So, we're thirteen weeks in, first trimester, officially, and everything is going great.



:)

Well, accept for morning sickness and tiredness. Which is waning.

Luckily, Emily has a very helpful live-in maid (smile) to take care of things around the house.



Of course, one (who did what was needed, wanted, and desired), is now safely back how she belongs. Reluctantly, at first, freedom is great, but understandably so, given my utter and total lack of self control.


(Not me). It's ironic how comforting a chastity cage can be.



Friday, August 3, 2018

New Bed


"Hon, where are you?" I called out to my wife, unable to find her.

"Up here, in the guest room," I heard her voice, followed it, found her standing in front of a bed I'd never seen dressed as sexy as she'd ever been dressed.

"He...he's in town?" I asked, the only reasonable explanation for her to be dressed like that on a Saturday night.

"He called a couple of hours ago," she said.

"What...what's that?" I asked my wife, looking at the bed I'd never seen before.

"It's for you," she said touching the footboard. "I thought it would this would do the trick."

"For...for me? What trick?" Then I saw the pink leather cuffs we sometimes played with. "You...you can't do that," I protested, "that...that's not safe."

"Not if we're here."

"We?" I asked, understanding her meaning at once.

"He didn't get a hotel, it was last minute," she said.

"But...here? He's coming here?"

"He won't want to be interrupted," she explained, "hence the bed and the cuffs."

Monday, July 23, 2018



I walked into the dining room, my heels clicking on the wood floor. My wife looked up at the sound and I saw her eyes glance over me, up and down, silently inspecting my maid's uniform. Her face was neutral, as always, giving no hint at her thoughts. I waited for her to speak, for what seemed forever, she said nothing. Finally she crossed her left leg over her right, the sound of her nylons the only sound in the house. She nodded.

"The...the kitchen's cleaned up, Ma'am," I said, afraid to say what I wanted to say, so instead relying on ritual.

She nodded, moved to rise.

"Ma'am," I interjected, needing to ask now, before she left the room, now the only time I could. I steadied myself, prepared to ask, prepared to plead my case.

She froze, crossed her eyes. "No," she said before I could form the words.

"No?" I asked, stunned at her decision, not just the decision, but the decision before I could even ask.

"No," she said again.

"But...I...you said...you said you'd consider it...last month...you said after another month you'd consider it."

She shrugged, an acknowledgment I was correct. But her word was the same. "No."

"Ma'am," I said swallowing, collecting myself, knowing there was no reason to get upset, knowing arguing was the worst thing I could do. "Have I...have I misbehaved?"

She looked at me hard, cold, inviting my own self examination. No, I hadn't, not lately, anyway. For the last six weeks I'd been nothing but the perfect sissy...serving her without complaint, dressing without complaint. Sure, the first two weeks were not perfect, they never were, after I was released.

That was part of the problem, of course, the longer it was, the better behaved I was, the longer between releases, the more time she had with me the way she liked me. After a release, I knew I was less than perfect, that the post-orgasmic chemicals messed with my brain. She knew it too, knew it took me about two weeks to become like I was now. And that the longer it was, the more time she got with me like this.

"You...you said you'd consider," I finally said, arguing as much as I dared.

"I did. Say I'd consider. And I did. Consider it. And the answer's no."

I felt my penis in the cage, felt it twitch. It was a weird thing, the longer I went, the less I seemed to spontaneously swell. But the soreness increased, seemingly exponentially. "I...I'm sore," I said, chastising myself for saying the words and obtaining nothing in return.

She shrugged. "I assumed," she said, uncrossing her legs, moving to stand. "I'm going out on Saturday night, behave and I'll milk it after."

As much as I told myself I hated it, that made me immediately swell. That thing she did, connecting certain things to other things. Behave when she was out on a date, behave when she got home, behave when I worshiped her after.

Behave and I'd get something. Not what I wanted, to be released and allowed to cum, instead I'd get what I needed, milked, while still in chastity, milked until I had the frustrating release of built up cum but without the orgasm associated with it.

No 'Mom' cut

For two reasons, I asked Emily to never get a 'Mom' haircut.

1. I love, love, love, long, feminine hair on a woman, especially her.

2. I hope, someday, to see someone, Matthew or someone else, do this to her again.




Wednesday, July 18, 2018

The Ex

So you're sure you want me to tell you about my ex-boyfriend again?


Well, I guess you could say it was the best sex I ever had.


I mean, that cock...fuck...that cock.


Plus, well, he had this one friend who, well...he was something.








Secured for Travel


Wednesday, June 13, 2018

This isn't what it looks like


"Oh god, honey, you...you're home early...I...this isn't what it looks like," your wife says.

"You...you mean it isn't three guys about to fuck you?" you ask, stunned.

"No, I mean...not three guys...they...two of the guys are running late and...well it's supposed to be five guys fucking me...which it will...when they get here."

"F...five?" you said stunned, "but..."

"Listen, why don't you go down and wait for the other two guys and be a dear and show them the way up when they get here."


Monday, June 11, 2018

New Book

So I wrote a new book. This one is a bit different as the protagonists are both males.

A strong, dominant older man.

A weak, submissive, reluctant sissy.

The premise is that a college student gets an internship over the summer and, having little money, his professor arranges for him to live with an older man who agrees to put him up for the summer.

Well, his luggage gets lost, the older man suggest he 'borrow' some female clothes and, well, things go from there.

I'll post some links when it's live.


Friday, June 8, 2018

The Day


She's sitting in the corner when you come home, legs crossed; her dress is on the floor, she's just in lingerie.

"Did he...did you...?" you start to ask, stop, unable to say the words.

She looks at you, face set, impassive. Finally she uncrosses her legs, puts one foot up on a table, points to the crotch of her panties. "Come here," she says tone strong.

"Honey, I..." you start to say, stop when you see the hard lines of her face, know the day has come, the day when fantasy becomes reality.

Some things were just meant to be under lock and key


Wednesday, June 6, 2018

Blouse


A blouse so soft, so feminine, so pink. 

The perfect thing for a sissy to wear when she's around her wife's lover.

To remind her, to remind him, there is only one man the wife's life.

Questions

Dru asked, "Do you want her to start again later?"

Dru, part of me says no, part of me says it was a risk, especially with him. There is always the risk of a wife getting too close to her lover.

But part of me, a bigger part of me, says yes, yes, yes. Especially the beginning, the teasing, the flirting, the thrill of a new man.

Part of me loves the submission, the strength of a man, the comfort of a man taking charge in our marriage.