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.