Emily made it to Dallas safely, got checked into her apartment (she got there first, before her roommate, so she got to take the master suite) and we talked and said hi.
Hilariousness. When she checked in, she was told her roommate's name was Erin. Or was that Aaron? While we joked/toyed/teased about opposite sex roommates, the reality is that a big company would likely not give someone an opposite sex roommate, however much someone's sissy boyfriend may fantasize about it.
So, which did she say? Erin or Aaron?
She teased me about that for several minutes on the phone, causing the predictable response-the chastity cage can be tight!
Her roommate's name is Erin, alas, a nice young woman from Alabama, southern accent and all.
Which is a relief and a bummer.
To me, 90% of the whole cuckolding thing is mental, anyway, something she knows all too well.
Which, as an aside, dear readers, some of whom think she is a bitch, others who think she'll have multiple affairs and partners, some who think she'll leave me for a "real man," take heart, that's not quite the thing we do.
First, we're in a loving, committed relationship. That's that.
Second, she's not the type to "hook up" with random dudes, whether we were in a committed relationship or not. She is a flirt, that's quite true, no denying.
Third, her mental teasing of me turns us both on in a way that random hook ups never would. Mental sexuality is much more powerful.
Fourth, if she does "hook up," and I trust her judgment on this, she has my permission. Some readers may not like it, but that's okay. Why? Because I'm okay with it. Do I fret about her fucking Evan? Yes? But does an occasional screw bother me? No, not given our ground rules.
That said, the mental is much more powerful. So she wants a man now and then. I'm the one she loves.
And to be honest, I'd like a man now and then, too.
In a way, and I did not mean to go here in this post, cuckolding, to me, reinforces emasculation, reinforces feminization. Mentally, not being "man enough" for her is an incredible turn on for me, sexually and otherwise. That's not a bad thing, to me. So she fucks Evan once a year (well, one weekend a year.) That only makes me feel more feminine-I'm not "man enough?" I don't want to be "man enough."
Because it is me she loves. Yes, I'm the one who knows as much about fashion as her. I'm the one who is sometimes more girl than her. I'm the one she loves.
As a further aside, Saturday afternoon, when she was packing, she tried on about twenty five outfits, to plan ahead what she was going to wear each day. Who was sitting on the bed advising her on each one?
Yes, that would be me.
For a life partner, she adores having someone who can tell her, yes, that necklace, no, not that one. Those earrings bring out the color of that blouse, that accessory is lost, etc.
At one point, we were arguing about a particular skirt suit. I felt it was not quite right.
Why, she wondered.
I commented on the length of the skirt. It hit in a weird place. I was down on my knees while she was in front of the mirror adjusting the skirt. My opinion, the skirt needed to hit slightly, but not too much, above her knee, and it was hitting about an inch, inch and a half, too long, not flattering her incredible legs
Now, what "man" knows these things. Sure, most men may know when a woman looks beautiful, but how many can honestly comment on which things go into making her beautiful. How many know about hem lengths, accessories, the cuts of clothing.
So, if she fucks a man now and then and tells me about it and plays it up and teases me and plays into my fantasies, I'm cool with that. I like it. I LOVE it.
Back to Dallas.
She packed some lingerie. She packed some condoms. That does not mean she will use or need either. But it means she knows that by doing so I'll think about it every day and I'll get excited and nervous and jealous and be thrilled and I'll be so fucking incredibly happy to have her come home and unlock me and...
Sigh...be with the woman I love.