Thursday, February 20, 2020

Coffee Shop

Emily wore a very pretty dress that morning, a faux top/skirt that was really a wrap dress—it had a white satin plunge top and a black just above the knee bottom.

“Jeez, Em,” I swallowed.

“I thought I’d meet someone special for coffee this afternoon,” she said giving me a smile. 

“You…you mean me?”

“Of course you, silly,” she said. “I know I’m being kind of a tease, but I like teasing.”

“I think I’m clear this afternoon,” I said, “that place down by…” I mentioned a coffee shop we sometimes went to.

“I mean, if it’s not too much to have coffee with a  a pretty woman you don’t have a chance with…”

“Em, you’re a bitch,” I said.

“I know…seriously, though…”

“What time?”

“Say three,” she said.


I got to the coffee shop early, it was lucky, it was crowded, but I got a table towards the back where it was kind of quite and I could sit and watch for her.

At about ten to three, I was glad I was early, as there were no seats left. I was sitting there reading a book I’d heard about on a podcast. Several people looked at the table, obviously wanting to share a seat, but I gave the ‘I’m meeting someone’ look.

At five till, another guy walked back carrying a cup of coffee. “Hey, I just heard the author of that book interviewed on Historytalk,” he said.

I laughed. “Me too, that’s why I picked it up.”

“I hate to be forward, but may I?” he pointed to one of the empty chairs.

“I’m actually waiting for my wife,” I said, looked down at my phone which just beeped, and laughed. “Apparently she’s running a few minutes late, so go ahead.”

“I appreciate you sharing,” he said, sat down. He was my age, in a suit but no tie, asked where I was in the book. 

We talked for a few minutes, I kept looking up, looking for Emily.

I wasn’t normally one to talk to strangers, but he’d read much of the book, listened to the podcast, so it was something to pass the fifteen minutes until Emily got there. 

Fifteen minutes late, but on time from her adjusted time, I saw Emily walk in, head to the counter to get a cup of coffee. He saw the reaction on my face, turned, saw the woman I saw paying for her drink. “Your wife, I assume,” he said.

“Yes,” I said, proud of her, proud of how pretty she looked, proud she was mine. 

“Well I appreciate you sharing, John,” he said, scooting his chair back to leave.

“Emily,” I called to her, looked back at him for an instant. “No problem, glad I could,” I said, eyes focused on her.

She saw me, flashed me that smile, the one I fell in love with all those years ago. 

“She’s a beautiful woman,” he said standing. 

“Thank you,” I said, also standing, still focused on Emily as she weaved through the coffee shop, realizing I may have to have to say something to her, who he was, why he was there.

He looked back towards me. “Thanks again for sharing. By the way, she looks so professional, you’d never guess.”

“Guess?” I asked, my higher brain slow, but the lizard part of it tingling.

He leaned towards me, spoke softly. “You’d never guess what a whore she can be.”

My eyes snapped towards him; I instinctively looked down at his hands, at the white disposable cup he held, half filled with black coffee, saw for the first time the name written on the side. 

“You…” Emily had stopped a dozen paces from the table, waiting.

“Don’t be mad at her,” he said, “this was my idea, my decision.”

“But…but I…I mean…” My brain was racing a million miles an hour, I’d thought about meeting him of course, as I’d met Matthew, but not like this, not surprised. He was actually a nice guy, as my wife had described him, smart, well read, fifteen minutes, pleasant enough to talk to. 

But for fifteen minutes, he had the advantage, he’d sat there, of the two of us, only he knowing he’d fucked my wife.

“Come on,” he motioned her over, effortlessly picking up where I’d left off, effortlessly taking charge, picking up the mantel of control. 

“Hey sweetie,” she said when she got to the table, giving me that guilty look.

“Sit next to him,” Emily, he said much to my relief and she slid in next to me, facing out. “I assume one or both of you may know someone here.”

“We…we might,” I said softly; he understood, I felt a sigh of relief, he understood, in that moment showed he got it, at least part of it. Emily sensed my mood, took my hand, squeezed it reassuringly. 

He was quiet for a moment, just looking at us, in a sense, in that silence, somehow showing what we all knew.

“I wanted to get a measure of you,” he said addressing me, “unguarded.”

“Did you?” Emily asked, a hint of concern in her voice. I knew what she was thinking, she liked him, not how she liked me, but liked the situation, liked what he could offer and knew now this depended on him. 

“I did,” he said without elaborating, leaving Emily to ask the follow up question.


“Look at me,” he said. I knew he was talking to me but in that moment I was shy and guarded. “Look at me,” he said again.

I finally did, head still down, raised my eyes, felt his boring in on me. “Y…yes?”

“That story you wrote, I understand it’s fiction, but how much of it explains you?”

“I…I don’t know,” I lied, saw his eyes narrow. “Much of it, I guess. Most of it.”

“Fascinating,” he said, still not revealing his thoughts.

“Brian,” Emily said, but he shook his head.

“You love your wife very much, don’t you?”

“Of course,” I said, “she…she’s everything to me.”

“I understand you were involved with someone before, what happened?”

“She…she didn’t tell you?” I asked.

“I want you to tell me,” he said.

“I don’t know, he…he got too close,” I said.

“Forgot his role?”

“In a way,” I said. 

“I won’t forget my role,” he said. “I want you to understand that. Some of this is learning, but I won’t forget my role.”

“It’s just…she and I come first. I mean…maybe not…you know…but…but at the core…”

“You two are married. You have a child. Of course you two come first. Was that his worst quality?”

“I suppose it was. I don’t think he meant it, though, it kind of happened.”

“Well that’s something I’ll make sure doesn’t happen then,” he promised.

“Will you?” I asked, eyes flashing.

“Actually, yes. It seems a fair trade. What was his best quality?”

“He was…strong…”

“I share that with him, then,” he smiled. “I read the story, I did my research, this isn’t just about sex, is it? It’s about power, it’s about psychological things.”

“In a way, yes,” I said.

He laughed.

“What’s funny?” Emily asked.

“I don’t know if it’s humor or irony,” he said, looking at me again. “You’re married to a woman who gets off being dominated by a man, who gets off submitting to a man, who gets off being a man’s whore. And yet…you get none of that.”

“I…I don’t…”

“Want that? Is that what you tell yourself? Maybe,” he said. “But I think, to hear Emily tell it, that’s just not you.”

“I…” I started to say, but he was right of course. “I suppose you’re right.”

“You’re a follower, not a leader. That was my impression, by the way. But I’m sure you know that, I’m sure you’ve always been like that, deep inside.”

“I suppose.”

“I think we’re all going to have some fun, then,” he said smiling. 

“Are we?” Emily asked him.

“I think we are,” he said taking a sip of coffee. “Listen, I started flirting with you because you were pretty. After that first dinner I thought I wanted to fuck you because you were hot. At our second dinner, I wanted to fuck you because you were, well, you know how you were. But this is more than sex.”

“It is,” Emily said.

“Well then,” he said. 

“Well then?” I asked.

“I think we’re all going to have some fun.”

“Brian, I just…we just…I love my husband.”

“I get that, Emily, I do.”

“So…so now what?” I asked.

“Now what? I guess we learn about each other. I understand there were ground rules before.”

“You do?” I asked.

“Emily told me,” he said. 

She squeezed my hand; of course she did.

“I like some of them, the make sense. Monogamy, for instance, I think that’s appropriate.”

“I know that’s ironic,” I said.

“Not at all. We discussed a couple of others.”

“Can I ask like what?” I asked.

“We talked about special days,” Emily said, “our days.”

“Which I think is a good idea,” he said, “but we’ll get to all that in good time.”

Monday, February 10, 2020

Returning Home

Kind of a synopsis. 

I heard the alarm ding and get turned off; I was dozing, opened my eyes, glanced at the clock in the candle lit bedroom. 


I heard her heels on the wood floor, heard her walk to the bedroom, heard the door open softly. “Sara?” she said in a loud whisper, the whisper she had when she was tipsy. My eyes were adjusted to the light, I saw her dress, the hem high, almost to the tops of her stockings, her breasts spilling from the top. 

“Em,” I said.

I watched her, watched her eyes adjust, saw her see me, saw her smile. I was wearing as feminine of lingerie I had—a sheer white bullet bra that showed off my breast forms, a white garter belt holding up sheer white stockings, white panties, a double layer sheer pink peignoir set (nightie and short robe), and white heels. It was purposeful as I wanted to look my most feminine.

“Well look at you,” she said leaning against the wall, smiling, running a finger over her lips.

“Well?” I asked, seeing her thinking.

“Just thinking, love…should I come over there and put that pretty face between my legs and let you guess…or should I be mean and wait and tell you all about it first.”

“Em…please,” I said sitting up.

“Please may I lick you and find out? Or please tell me about it?”


“You have to pick, love.”

“Please…please tell me about it,” I said.

“My little sissy is so predictable,” she said with a smile walking to the edge of the bed, sitting, letter her dress ride up her legs, exposing her stocking tops, her garter straps, the skin of her thighs.

“Is your cage secure?” she asked, knowing it was.

I nodded, wishing in that moment it wasn’t, wishing I could grow.

“This might hurt,” she said. “He was waiting outside when my car got there…”


“Jesus, Emily,” he said when I got out of the car. I’m afraid I may have given him a bit of a show.

“Brian,” I kissed him lightly on the mouth. No tongue, just a peck. “You like?”

“God you look great,” he said.

“I look more than great, Brian,” I told him, “in fact, I know just what I look like, and that’s on purpose.”

“On purpose, huh?” he asked.

“I’m a married woman meeting a man for dinner,” I said, “may as well embrace it.”

“I thought we were going to see how it goes?” he asked.

“You can decide how it goes, Brian, I decided what I want.”

“You trying to get me to skip out on our dinner reservations?”

“If that’s what you want?” I said.

“Two years?” he asked.

“Almost,” I said.

“Well in that case, I’m making you wait at least two more hours.”


“We had a drink in the bar,” she said putting a hand on my stocking covered leg, “I put a hand on his leg like this. I have to admit I was trying to seduce him and he knew and and stopped it. Almost like turning the tables on me.”


“I thought a girl like you knew how to behave,” he said.

“I…I thought…”

“Drinks first, Emily, drinks, dinner, maybe a final glass of wine.”

“We could skip all that,” I said.

“We could, but we won’t.”


“The waiter eye fucked me hard,” she said, “kind of like you are now. But he had no more chance than you. Every time he was by us, Brian took the chance to touch me under the table. Not like that, just little, light, teasing touches. All through the drink, dinner, after.”

“You were excited?” I asked, knowing she was.

“God, more than I thought I could be,” she said.


“I want to play a game,” he said while we were waiting for dessert.

“What kind of game?” I asked.

“Kind of like twenty questions.”

“Who is asking the questions?”

“Me…you when I say you can.”

“Okay,” I said, swallowing.

“Are you happily married?”


“Go ahead, you get one,” he said.

“Why a married woman?”

“Commitment issues, seems safer. Do you ever sleep with your…spouse to be gender neutral.”

“Spouse is fine. Sometimes he’s my husband, sometimes she’s my wife. We make love, we don’t have sex like…like husband and wife.”

“If you were to create an original sex movie, what would you name it?”

“Good one,” I said, “you thought of these ahead of time.”

“Yes I did.”

“Taken,” I said.


“Taken?” I asked her.

She nodded. “Taken,” she said. You could see his mind racing.

“That’s a good one,” I said.

“It’s true,” she said.

Taken. Taken.


“Let’s see, that’s three questions,” he said. “Go head, one for you…two…”

“Have you done this before?”

“Slept with a married woman? No, but I’m a quick learner. And that story helped. Good jumping off place for research. This isn’t a question, just clarification. Your spouse…like the character in the story?”

“Very much.”

“And you?”

“She’s his creation, though there are some similarities. She’s more aggressive with her husband than I am.”

“You told me you like strong men, what about…”

“Is that a question?”


“He prefers me to date strong men, too. Reinforces, I don’t know…everyone’s role.”

“That’s four…so five…in the story…you know it well enough? Okay, in the story, the couple goes to a club…”


“God, he really read it.”

“Wait,” she said.


“…the couple goes to a club and she’s with a guy in front of him…has he seen that?”

“With Matthew, yes, but that’s a man’s call, not my spouse’s call.”

“Follow up…six…back in the van…”


“I blushed…he didn’t even finish the question, I answered without answering.”

“Emily,” I croaked.


“Jesus, let me change the question then…still on six…does he always do that?”

“Does…does that bother you?”

“I didn’t say you get a question. Does he always do that?”



“Jesus, Emily,” I yelped, “what did he say?”


“Can I ask a question?”

“No,” he said. 

“A statement then?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“It…I hope…I hope you don’t mind…it’s important to us.”

He took a sip of his drink, looked contemplative. “Looking around the internet, seems that’s a common fantasy and common practice.”


“Doesn’t it humiliate him?”

“Is that question eight?”

“I don’t care about the number, Emily.”

“Very much.”

“You said you don’t have sex like…I don’t remember your words…like a married couple…”

“Like a man and a woman.”

“But when you go home, he’ll do that?”


“And you like that?”

“More than you can imagine.”


I looked at her legs, tried to will her to separate them.

“Emily,” I begged.”

“Don’t you want to know the rest?” she asked, touching my leg again.

“Yes,” I groaned.

“In the story the husband can’t…how do I put this…”

“The chastity cage?”

“It’s not something I’d heard of before.”

“It started gradually, almost a game, it’s turned into something much more.”


“You told him?” I asked her.

“He asked,” she said, “I’m not going to lie.”

“What did he say?” I asked.

“That I must be very special to you if you give up something like that.”

“He doesn’t get it,” I said.

“Sweetie, you know no real man gets it…they have one basic, primal desire—to fuck pretty women. No real man would lock up the essence of his manhood.”


“What, my pretty little girl?”


“I lost track of the question.”

“Something distracting you?”

“You’re playing with fire, Emily.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Maybe, you might regret it.”

“What if I know what you’re thinking, Brian?”

“Do you now?”

“I might not be married to a man, but I know how men think. I know what they want. And you can have it.”



“You know what he wanted, too, don’t you? A married woman, on a date with him, dressed like this…you know what he wanted.”


“You know what I wanted, too. I wanted to be his whore.”

“God, Emily,” I said, shaking dizzy.

“Is it time, my pretty?” she asked, standing, moving to undo her dress.


“Do you want to hear all about it now? Or should I show you instead of telling you? Should I show you how I was his whore? ”

I saw her panties, damp and crusty at the same time, damp from her excitement, a mess from earlier. “I can tell you later, love, but for now, I want to show you.”

“Emily, please…”

“That’s it, love, beg for it…beg for it…”

Friday, January 31, 2020

A First Real Date Part 1

Seeing Emily’s dress, how it showed off her braless breasts, how when she sat it showed off the tops of her stockings, I couldn’t help but think how the first time with Brian was like the last time with Matthew almost two years ago. 

The last time with Matthew, she dressed like a high-class call girl, a whore, sat in a bar and waited for him. Flirted with two random men who hit on her before Matthew arrived, flirted himself, then took her upstairs and took her.

Emily’s dress wasn’t exactly a winter-appropriate dress but then Brian told her he expected her to dress sexy and revealing when she saw him. In that way, he wasn’t unlike any other man who liked his woman to dress pretty, feminine, sexy. The difference was, like any man getting involved in a relationship like this, one where he was without question the alpha, dominant man, he was in a position to express that desire, to make it an expectation. And she would strive to meet that expectation. 

Brian wasn’t playing Matthew’s game, not yet, but there were similarities. They were meeting for a drink at a fancy speakeasy next to a nice hotel. The drink to break any ice, the last opportunity to abort, then, if things went well, a room when a man would take a woman. 

Seeing her, seeing her breasts on display, seeing the stockings, the inch of bare thigh, the garter straps, the heels, everything, it was apparent Emily was sure and was presenting that assuredness to him. 

“I…I guess it’s a foregone conclusion,” I said.

“For me,” she confirmed, “so I guess it’s up to him.”

“Look…look at yourself, Emily, he’s not going to be able to resist even if he wanted to.”

She laughed. “You think I’m irresistible?


“Almost makes you want me for yourself tonight, doesn’t it?”

“Al…almost,” I said if almost meant part of me absolutely wanted her for myself.”

“I know love, and as much as I love making love to my soft, pretty girl, you know I want a man tonight.”

“I…I know,” I said, all the feelings missed over the last two years flooding over me, again thinking how he would see her, how he would see a married woman sitting in a bar with him. A married woman in a low-cut dress, her breasts purposefully on display. A married woman with long, beautiful legs, made sexier by four-inch heels, obviously encased in stockings. 

The word Matthew often used came to mind, not one uttered by Brian, but one he would have to think as well, one I knew turned her on immensely, one she was obviously intending to call to my mind and his. 

She stood, the hem of her dress dropped several inches, enough to cover the tops of her stockings, but far from modest. I knew he’d see her like this, then more when she sat. She came up to me, kissed the side of my face, whispered in my ear. “I know what you’re thinking, love,” she said.

“You…you think?” I asked.

“Yes I do,” she said, “you’re thinking your wife looks like a whore.” I couldn’t help but gasp, not just because she was right, not just because she knew I was thinking it, but from hearing her utter the word. “I hope he thinks it too, lover, I hope he thinks it because you both know a married woman shouldn’t dress like this to meet a man at a hotel bar.”

“Emily,” I said, feeling dizzy.

“That’s what I missed so much these last two years, lover. Not at first, but certainly now. I know it’s wrong, I know it’s awfully wrong, but that’s what I miss, I miss being a man’s whore.”

“God, Emily,” I said, feeling like I was going to burst. 

“Men don’t fall for whores, do they, they fall for good girls. It’s so weird, men want to fuck whores, but they rarely want to date them.”

I understood in a moment of clarity what she was doing. Not just tonight, not just wanting to signal her availability, how badly she wanted to fuck, but to signal from the beginning it was about sex, not emotion. Signaling he could have her but never have her. She would be his bad girl, never his good girl. Signaling to set an expectation of boundaries. That’s what I understood in that moment of clarity. Signaling to him and to me. 

“Do I need to tell him or is it implied.”

“Tell him?”

“That I’m his whore, lover, that he can do whatever he wants to me sexually, that he can have my mouth or my pussy, or even…well…you know. That he can be as gentle or as rough as his desires.”


“That he can fuck me and cum wherever he wants, on me or in me, as much as he wants.”


“Are you excited, lover? Are you as excited as I am?”

“Y…yes,” I said, mouth dry.

“Do I look like a whore, lover?”

“Yes, god yes.”

“Do I need to tell him or will he understand.”

I thought of him seeing her, seeing how she was dressed. He’d understand. Any man would understand. “He…he’ll understand.”

“He’ll understand your wife wants to be his whore?” she asked as she reached down, touched the front of my skirt, felt the cage. Without it, I would have burst, literally and figuratively. 

“Yes,” I moaned.

“I don’t know what time I’ll be home, lover, he might…he might decide a drink is enough.”

“He…he won’t…”

“Yea,” she acknowledged. “I’ll try not to stay the night; I know you want me to come home so you can, you know…”


“Shhh, it’s okay. We don’t have to pick up the baby until after lunch, so no matter you’ll have your special time with me.”

“Will you…can we…” I looked down, left the question implied.

“You know that’s not a good idea, sweetie. Especially the first time. You know it’s better to focus on me.”

“I know,” I said, disappointed but only a little, too excited.

She was picked up at 8:00; he sent a car; they were meeting at 8:30. And how I sit home on a Friday night, sit home alone because my wife is out with a man. I sit home waiting, knowing what will happen. I sit home, writing and waiting. 

I'm grateful I'm caged and locked, knowing if I wasn't I'd have misbehaved immediately. Instead, I can only wait, picture my wife, dressed purposefully to look like a whore, meeting a man for one purpose.

Assuming the night goes as she wants, I'll be busy later. Busy. Busy.

Friday, January 24, 2020


Of course you don't like the taste, what husband likes the taste of another man's cum?

But the more you complain, the more she enjoys it, because your humiliation turns her on.

"Don't worry, love, you'll get used to it, trust me. You may not come to love it like I do, but the more you do it, the easier it becomes."

Wednesday, January 22, 2020

A text exchange after a story was shared

Brian: Holy Shit, Emily, are you kidding me?

Emily: I'm nervous responding. No, no, I'm not. That's just a story, that's not a biography. But the core elements in the story are reality.

Brian: Holy Shit.

Emily: Yes.

Brian: The last guy you dated knew all this?

Emily: Yes.

Brian: Fuck.

Emily: Yes. Listen, if this is too much...

Brian: Did I say that?

Emily: No, I just...not every guy would understand.

Brian: Are you looking to get fucked or have a relationship?

Emily: You have to understand, nothing is more important than my marriage.

Brian: I think I get that. But that doesn't answer the question?

Emily: If you can believe it, neither...and both.

Brian: You're not cheating; I thought that at first. This is way beyond that.

Emily: It's way beyond that.

Brian: You said you liked strong men, I guess I get that now.

Emily: I love my husband very much. More than anyone, ever.

Brian: But that the right pronoun? I have to admit I'm not sure.

Emily: Depends...we use both. Sometimes he's a male and we use he, sometimes she's a girl and we use she.

Brian: I'm making a joke, but it's serious, too. He's your husband but he's no man.

Emily: Yea. Part husband, part wife, part male, part female.

Brian: Crass question. Do you have sex?

Emily: Yes, but not like, well, not like normal couples.

Brian: Laugh. Ever?

Emily: It's not really I don't know how to talk about's not something she likes to do. I mean, part of her...him...does...wants to, but part doesn't. It's complicated but we don't do that.

Brian: Sex like a man and a woman.

Emily: Basically.

Brian: I have about a thousand questions, but I suppose there are only a couple of important one.

Emily: Like?

Brian: Were you just teasing and flirting at dinner or are you serious?

Emily: I...I'm serious.

Brian: What are the logistics?

Emily: That sounds so romantic.

Brian: I'm serious, Emily.

Emily: I know, I'm kidding. I am too. You can meet my husband first or not, Matthew did but you don't have to.

Brian: As a male or female?

Emily: Depends on what you're comfortable with.

Brian: Not first then. You first. Later. What else? You mentioned an IUD and testing.

Emily: We get blood tests. That's something we're firm about.

Brian: That makes it more than random sex with a guy.

Emily: I suppose it does. It's a fun fantasy but too dangerous in reality.

Brian: So a test...then?

Emily: If you're really a strong man, you'll figure it out.

Brian: I was hoping it was something like that. How long's it been?

Emily: Two years.

Brian: How can you stand it?

Emily: I'm glad you didn't push in the elevator.

Brian: Final logistic question then, we just get tests and exchange results and then it's up to me?

Emily: Basically.

Brian: I'll get it done this week. I expect you too to do the same.

Emily: Now that's the strong man I was hoping for.

Brian: You looked very sexy when we had dinner; I expect more of that.

Emily: I'd have it no other way.

Brian: Two years?

Emily: Two years.

Monday, January 13, 2020

Hi Did Matthew know about this blog? Does Brian know about this blog? If he doesn't, will he in the near future? Curious minds are asking. (smile)

Someone asked that in the comments this morning which is a funny question since that was the topic of a conversation Emily and I had over the weekend.

Not Matthew, but Brian.

First, did Matthew know about the blog? Not really, or didn't care. But he didn't have it, read it, etc.

Brian? Same.

But what brought about the conversation with Emily was Brian's questions to her, mostly about me, our relationship, and our experiences.

Obviously he's curious, I mean, he's flirting with a married woman, and she tells him her husband is okay with that. But is he ( really?

We talked about showing him the blog, but decided against it.

First, she didn't want him to do the inevitable comparison to Matthew. Matthew was Matthew, Brian is Brian.

Second, it give too much insight into too many things, certainly at first. Some things he should discover for himself. Besides, if he's the kind of man we hope he is, he should lead on things.

But that still leaves explaining things. I suggested giving him one of the stories I wrote, perhaps A Change in Our Marriage. That gives insight to me, ultimately to us, without giving everything about us.

How will he react? I don't know. We're nervous, but ultimately, he should know.

Wednesday, January 8, 2020


" jeans today, Erica," he said to the girl at work he has a crush on, a girl who usually wore jeans, working up the nerve to say it after practicing for hours.

"Nope," she said, giving him the dismissive look she usually had.

" look really pretty today."

"Thanks," she said, glancing at him, "I have a date with a guy from accounting after work."

" do?" he asked, disappointment on his face despite his best efforts.

"Yea," she said sitting down. "What's wrong with that?"

"N...nothing," he mumbled.

"What?" she asked again.

"I...I thought...I mean...I was wondering...there's this bar...and...well..."

"Listen," she said leaning forward, her skirt going up, exposing the top of a stocking, "let's just get this out in the open, shall we?"

"Get...get what out in the open?" he asked.

"I don't date losers like you, okay? It's fine to be friends, but don't get it in your mind you ever have a chance with me."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, trying to play it off.

"You were going to ask me out," Erica shook her head. "Never going to happen."

"I...I was not," he stammered.

"If not, it's only because you're afraid to," she shook her head, "another reason you're never getting a girl like me."

Thursday, January 2, 2020

Let's be real....

You've not a real man.

You're never going to be a real man.

No woman is ever going to desire you.

No woman is going to want to sleep with you.

So stop pretending and accept the fact that you're a sissy. Not a boy who plays at it, you're a sissy through and through.

Accept the only way you'll be happy is to embrace your femininity.

And accept the only sex you're ever going to have is with men.

Accept your penis is never going inside a woman, but plenty of cock is going inside of you.

Negative Reinforcement

True, so true.


The girl next door told you that as a boy, you never had a chance to get a woman, that it was so much easier for you to dress as a girl and get a man. Turns our, she was right. 


After her second date with Brian, I asked Emily if she considered re-connecting with Matthew. She laughed, way ahead of me as usual.

"Of course," she said, "I'm surprised you didn't ask until now."

"Well I...I don't know...did you call him?" I asked, already picturing her with him.

"I thought about it," she admitted, "I had this speech all written in my head and picked up my phone a dozen times."

"What stopped you?" I asked.

"What stopped me?" she looked at me in surprise. "You, of course," she said.

"Me? I never said not to contact him," I said.

She smiled. "I didn't say that."

"What do you mean?"

"Sweetie, I'm sure you would have said yes if I asked, but, while I considered it, I decided not to."

"I'm confused, you said I stopped you."

Emily frowned. "You didn't tell me not to, it wasn't like that, sweetie."

"Didn't you like him?"

"Of course. And that's the point," she said, "I did...and he liked me...didn't you get a the end...we were playing with fire."

"I don't know what you mean," I said, though in a way I suppose maybe I did.

"He was falling for me."

"What? He said that?"

"No, of course not, love. And he'd probably deny it, but a woman can tell these things. I don't think he wanted to, it was just happening..."

"How...I don't think..."

"It was...he...he wanted to...he asked me to go on vacation with him...he wanted to go to the Caribbean for week at a couple's only resort."

"You've left town with him before."

"Yea," she said, "but this was...I don't know if he even meant it, but this seemed he wanted a week away with his girlfriend..."

"Well you were practically that," I said looking down, stomach flipping.

"Kind do I explain it...what was I to him? At the the end? Not his girlfriend. What was I?"

I looked down again, knew the word she was looking for. "You were his...," I whispered, about inaudible.

"His what?" she asked gently touching me. "Go ahead, say it."

"You were his whore," I said, still almost inaudible.

"His whore," she repeated. "I was his whore. It still turns you on, doesn't it? Thinking of me being a whore for a man?"

"Emily," I said.

"I know it's naughty, but it turns you on, doesn't it?"

" know it does," I said.

"That's what I was  afraid of, Sara, that he was starting to see me not as his whore but as his girlfriend."

I looked down, knowing that was always a risk with him. "Do you think he..."

"He wanted to go away for a week, love, even if he didn't mean it that way, I could tell it was changing. We have to protect against that, you know that. We talked about it when he and I...stopped seeing each other."

"What if it wasn't, though?"

"It's not worth it."

"I know," I said. "I just...miss it."

"And you think I don't?"

" do, I know."

"Whore, not girlfriend."

"I know."

"It wasn't worth the risk, lover, you're more important than anything." She leaned into me, kissed me deeply. "I liked being a man's whore, love, I can't be a man's girlfriend. It's just too much."

"Emily..." I said, knowing she was right.

"That's how I felt at dinner...when I got dressed, I thought of myself like that. I don't know if he picked up on it or if he's just like that, but...I hope he get's the difference. Whore, not girlfriend."

"Were you...excited?" I asked.

"Excited? Are you fucking kidding? Of course I was excited," she said, "I'm just glad he didn't do anything, I would have had trouble stopping it."


"If he had dragged me across the street to the hotel..."

"You wouldn't have!"

"Not without a condom," she smiled at me.


"I know, I hate to use a condom, but you know...if he's serious, I told him we'll want all of us to get tested."

"You did not," I said.

"I did to," she said seriously. "He asked about logistics with Matthew. I told him I was on the pill then and we all got tested before we did everything."

"What did he say?"

She laughed. "About no condoms? I told him Matthew had a rule about that."

"A rule?" I asked.

"That's what he said...a rule? I said, yes, a rule. I told him Matthew had rules about things, that that was one of the things we liked about him, how he took charge, set the rules."

"I assume he wanted to know what these rules were?"

"No, actually, he didn't ask. He smiled, though, seemed to get  it. He just asked about birth control again...assuming anything happens...he said. I told him I got an IUD but that we insisted on testing."

"Jesus, Emily, no wonder he was all hands in the elevator, he's already picturing his cock inside you."

"Makes two of us," she smiled.


"God, it's been almost two years since I've fucked a man. Imagine going that long without...oh fuck, I didn't mean it like that," she said.

"I know," I said.

"Well, you know what I mean," she said.

" something going to come of this?" I asked.

"Do you want it to?" she pushed back.


"I'm serious, love, do you?"

" know I do," I blushed, looked down, the admission I wanted a man to fuck my wife embarrassing as always.

"Are you sure? You've had me to yourself for awhile now. I mean, well you know."

I knew. She meant we had been monogamous for well over a year, not that I had the chance to fuck her during that time, just that I didn't share her. "I...I don't mind sharing," I said.

"You don't mind sharing?" she laughed. "That's so bland. Is that all it is? Sharing? And you just 'don't mind' it."


"Let me ask it another way, love, do you want me to be a man's whore again?"


"Do you want me to be a man's whore? Make myself available to a man to use me how he wants? Not his girlfriend, not someone he's emotionally attached to, his whore. Something he uses for base, wanton sex. A woman he can explore all his sexual desires with, a woman he can do things to you only fantasize about?"

"God, Emily."

"Do you want me to be a man's whore? You know men see it differently, right? Men treat girlfriends with love, respect. Men treat whore's sex objects." I was shaking at her words, she knew it. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes," I burst out, "yes, please...yes..."

"That's what I like, lover...letting a man use me...knowing you want a man to use me, too, use me in ways you never have, never will."

Friday, December 27, 2019


Just to get this out of the way, she didn't sleep with him on her second date.

Not because she didn't want to, I think she did, does.

Not because he didn't want to; he does, very much, told her so before dinner.

And apparently, while he's nice, he isn't that nice.

Adapted from Emily's retelling:


"I never fucked someone's wife before," Emily said he told her in the elevator up to the restaurant, after they'd dropped off their coats.

"What...what makes you think you're going to?" she asked, taken aback by his directness.

"I suppose the assumption married women don't dress like that when they have dinner with someone they are not married to unless they are trying to seduce them."

"Brian," Emily blushed, feeling the thrill of the situation, turned on recognizing the immediate sexual tension, the hint of danger. "I...before we..."

He stopped the elevator, apparently familiar enough with the restaurant to know the stop button wouldn't cause a piercing alarm. "Let's get something out of the way before we go up, shall we?"

"W...what?" she asked, looking around, suddenly worried he was going to do something then and there in the elevator, not quite ready, not sure if she'd gotten in over her head.

He took a step towards her, she backed up towards the wall; he leaned towards her, she felt the wall, felt herself breathing. "We're not fucking tonight."

"What?" Emily asked, immediately disoriented.

"As sexy as you look, that's clearly on your mind, but not tonight."

"Clear...clearly on my mind?" she asked, still confused.

"I appreciate it," he said, "the short dress and especially the nylons." He put a hand on her thigh, just below the hem of the dress. "Don't think I don't want, Emily, I mean, those legs, this ass." He moved his hand up, grabbed her ass.

"W...why not? she said she whispered, suddenly wanting what a minute ago she didn't want.

"Suppose before I fuck a married woman, I want to understand what I'm getting into."

He started the elevator again, leaving Emily shaking, confused, turned on.


She said dinner was a blur, not the way she expected. He would touch her, on her arm, on her leg, he would tease her, even toy with her.

When the waiter was gathering the bill, he told her, in front of the waiter, part of him wanted to take across the street and get a room for the night.

"What...what did you say?" I asked her when she was telling me.

"What...what's stopping you," Emily asked.

"I'm not sure," he looked at her. "Something tells me you're not ready for that, either."

"I...I'm not...I mean I am...just..."

"This relationship, did that work...with your husband?"

"They are very different," she told him.

"Wasn't he worried? Your husband?"

"It's hard to explain," she said, "Matthew never wanted...I wasn't just sex but...he never wanted...we learned how to give everyone a place."

"You said you were drawn to strong men, I'm assuming your husband doesn't get described that way?"

"," she said, "he's...he's not like that."

"I'm not naive, Emily," he told her, "by strong you mean dominant, right? What's the phrase? An alpha male?"

"I...I don't know," she blushed.

"There's a whole lot written on the web about it. Women want sex with strong men, but often settle down with providers."

"'s more than that," she said without elaborating.

"The thing on the elevator," he said, "that's the kind of thing, isn't it?"

"Kind...kind of," she said.

"Sex without commitment?"

"We were...I mean...I don't sleep around..."

"Not what I meant," he said, "sex without the commitment of a relationship."

"I don't sleep around," she defended herself.

"I didn't way you did. Matthew got sex without the emotional commitment of a relationship."

"In a way, yes."

He laughed.

"What?" she asked.

"I assume your husband has the, no need to answer that. Listen, if you were single, we'd be across the street in a hotel room already."

"This...this isn't for you?" she asked, feeling disappointed.

"I didn't say that, Emily, I didn't say that at all. It's just something I have to think about, that's all."

In the elevator on the way down, he stopped it again, turned to her. "Were you really ready to fuck tonight? Be honest."

Emily said she had the sense her answer was important but not sure why, not sure what answer he wanted, so decided to be honest. "," she said, sure that was that.

"But you dressed like that anyway?"

"What...what can I say?" she said, blushing, "I'm kind of a tease."

"Turn around," he said.

"Turn around?"

He grabbed her shoulders, spun her towards the wall, pushed gently, but hard enough she put her hands out to catch herself. He put a hand on her ass, over her dress, whispered in her ear. "If we ever do this, Emily, you may regret that."


When they were waiting for Emily's Uber, he leaned towards her. "Strong like that?"

"What?" she asked.

"You like men strong like that?"

"Y...yea," she said.

"Listen, I have holiday obligations with my daughter, let's talk after the first of the year, okay?"

"I...I'd like that," she said.

"No promises."

"Me either," she said.

As the car pulled up, he asked her one last question. "You sure he's okay with this?"

" husband?"

He nodded.

"More than you can imagine."

Monday, December 23, 2019

Second Date

Emily was sitting on the bed lacing her ankle strap heel around her ankle when I walked into the bedroom, my own heels clicking on the wood floor. 

"I...I can help with that," I said in a soft voice.

She looked up at me, smiled. "I suppose that's what a lady's maid is for, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," I said, glad I'd decided on a satin maid's uniform. I walked to her, carefully bent down, felt the familiar tug of garter straps on my stockings. I took her foot in my hands, touched her nylons as I did, finished the heel. Before I stood, I looked at her thigh, the hem of the dress, nodded. " made the right choice," I said.

"It was either pantyhose or a longer dress," she said.

"I think...I think he'll appreciate the dress," I said.

"I still think it's almost too short," she said standing, looking at herself in the mirror. "It's only a second date."

"It's not the usual kind of second date," I reminded her.

"No, I suppose it's not," she said. "Well, it's the holiday season, lots of married women dress up for a nice dinner date."

"Usually with their husbands," I said not meaning it the way it sounded.

"Sweetie," she looked concerned.

"No, Em, I...I didn't mean it like that."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

" sure as a sissy can be," I said.

"I'm not sleeping with him tonight, I made that promise," she said.

"Part of me wishes you were," I said, " know how this is."

"I's not that I don't want to...god I want to...I just feel like...I need another date with him."

"You're not sure?"

"It's been awhile, hon, I just want to make sure. If I was single, I'd be sure, but there's someone else to consider."

"I know," I said, loving her all that much more.

"He...he's going to want to," I said looking her up and down.

"Guess he won't be the only one," she smiled. "Of course, he's got better short term prospects than someone else."

"Em, I..."

"I won't be home early," she said, "but it won't be too late, either." She kissed me softly, careful not to smudge her lips. "You'll wait up?"

"Of course," I said.

"I'll need it," she said, smiled. "Not that," she looked down, "this." She reached up, touched my lips.

"The reservations are for eight," I looked at a clock, " should get going."

"I already have an uber coming," she smiled.


You're sitting at the hotel bar, watching her, your wife, she's in your direct line of sight, sitting at a table for two, all alone. She's wearing a tight, white blouse, a short black leather skirt, dark hose, black leather boots.

How long will it take? How long until a man approaches her, sits down, across from her, tries to seduce her.

If she was at the bar, it would minutes, maybe seconds. But because she's at a table, some men will be unsure. They typical guys will be too intimidated to approach a woman like her sitting alone.

She knows whoever does approach will be atypical, the most confident of men, the most masculine of men, the type of guy the most opposite from you.

Yet he won't be the man she goes home with.

No, she''s harder to get than that. She'll tell the first man that sits that she's waiting to meet someone and he'll apologize and leave.

The second might do the same.

It's the man that doesn't get up, that tells her in response, "well he's not here and I am" that she'll finally flirt with.

It's this man, this type of man she's waiting for. Not just an alpha man, but the most alpha of alphas.

It's this man she'll take out the hotel room key for, slide it across the table, and tell him to meet her upstairs in ten minutes.

"What about whoever you were waiting for?" he'll ask.

She'll look around the bar, look directly at you, and tell him, "like you said, you're here and he's not," and get up and leave.

It's this ten minutes that make your penis swell in the cage, the ten minutes he's just sitting there finishing his drink.

Wedding Night

"What...what are you doing in here?" he asked, seeing his bride in his hotel room a few hours before the wedding.

"Typical," she shook her head with a sly smile. "Beautiful woman is in your hotel room and your nervous as a school boy."

"No, I's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding."

"Ordinarily I'd agree," she said, "but since you won't see me after the wedding I thought you'd like to see what you're missing on your wedding night."

"I thought...I assumed...I mean...we have the room," he waived around, "what time is he...won't we come back here?"

"No, sweetie," she said, "you'll come back here and get our things ready for our flight in the morning, he's taking me up to the honeymoon suite."

"I...I thought that was booked," he said.

"It was, it is, he booked it for us."

He frowned, felt the familiar sting of jealousy. "Lauren..."

"It's my wedding night, sweetie, you know I'm spending it with him, not with you."


"Honey, I know we talked about starting with a month," she started to say, looking at her husband's locked chastity cage.

"And it's been a month," he interrupted, eager for her to get the key.

"Yea, but..."

"You didn't lose the key, did you?" he asked, panic creeping into his voice.

"What? No, of course not," she said.

"What then?"

"I don't know...I...I guess I've kind of gotten used to it."

"U...used to it?" he swallowed, feeling his stomach flip.

"Every day you wear it, you're more attentive than the last, more responsive, more supportive."

"Of course," he said.

"I just don't want a setback."

"Setback?" he asked.

"I don't want to start over...I like this new you."

"But...but Monica, I haven''s been a month."

She giggled.


"It's like good red wine, the longer the bottle's kept corked, the better it will be."


"Let's do this," she said, "let's go another month and see how it goes."

"Another month without sex?" he said, "Monica!"

"I didn't say no sex," she said with a shy smile, spreading her legs, "just no fucking."

"But..." he stammered, looking at her panty covered pussy.

"You don't want to lick me?" she teased, knowing he did, knowing he would.

Tuesday, December 17, 2019


She looks over at you, sees the look in your eyes, knows the doubt you're suddenly feeling. But it's too late.

The time for second thoughts was yesterday, even that morning, before he was there, before your wife dressed in her pretty lingerie, before she was in bed with him, before he started seducing her. 

Before. Before.