Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Laying in Bed

There were a couple of comments that Emily had sex with Evan, the man she went to see this weekend. I don't know. I'm not sure. I suppose, for those interested, I'll tell you what I know...

So...the evidence...that I'm not sure what to make of...

Friday night, Emily left town at about 3:00 and was supposed to get to Evan's by 7:00, then go to dinner with him and a few of their mutual friends.

Before she left, I told her I had a few expectations for her when she was gone.

"Expectations," she'd asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, please text me when you get to Evan's so I know you got there okay, and call me at night before you go to bed." I made that request because Emily is notorious for not answering her phone. Try calling her on her cell...good luck getting her.

She agreed. She'd text me at 7:00 when she got there and call me before she went to bed. She also said to text her at 7:00 to remind her to text me. Okay.

So, Friday, 7:00 comes and goes with my text. Nothing from Emily.

7:15. Nothing.

7:30. Nothing.

7:45. Nothing.

Finally, at 8:00 on the nose, I call her. Surprisingly, she answers. Loud noise. Clearly at a bar or loud restaurant. She apologized for not calling. She got lost, just met up with Evan at the place they were eating/meeting, etc.

I could hear Evan and her friends, so they must have been at a table. We talked for a minute. They were doing dinner, a club, maybe another bar.

"I love you," she said. Not softly. Loudly. Loud enough that anyone listening could hear, including Evan. "Talk to you later."

I puttered around the house the rest of the evening. Funny, maybe ironic, but while Em was going to be out of town, with a man, I might add, having fun, she'd left me a list of things to get done-ironing, laundry, changing sheets, cleaning the kitchen and bathrooms.

Yes, very domestic. And yes, it is humiliating to be hand washing your girlfriends panties wondering what the hell she was doing.

By 10:00 I was tired, showered, got ready for bed, slipped into a satin cami and tap panty set, slipped between the sheets, turned on the television, my cell phone cuddled next to me.

I didn't expect to hear from Em until late on Friday, figured I'd go to sleep around midnight and she'd call late, when they got back. And then I wondered when. When they got back and when she went to a guest room and called before she went to bed.

Or late, because she'd go up to his room and they would...well...this made my stomach turn and my groin ache.

I was surprised at midnight, just as I was about to turn out the light, to hear my phone ring and see Emily on my iPhone.

"Hey, I didn't think I'd hear from you so early," I said, half relieved, half disappointed.

Remember, I so fucking confused! Do I fantasize about being cuckolded. Yes. Have I masturbated to the thought? Yes. I've told Em that. But, that doesn't mean I want it to happen. Or do I?

"I know...I'm driving back to Evan's now. We're both tired. We went to one bar after dinner, but I just want to go back to his place and go to sleep."

We chatted as she drove, following him. She asked me what I'd gotten done. Talked about their dinner and friends, etc.

"Well, I'm pulling into his garage now, so I'll call you before I go to bed."

"I...I assume you two want to talk and catch up for a bit, so it will be awhile?" My voice almost cracked. They would want to talk. They might also want to fuck! And I was shaking, but still excited.

"I think we're both tired, so I should be calling back in a few as soon as I crawl into bed." Which meant she wasn't sleeping in his room!!!

"Okay, love you," I said.

Two hours later she called back. Two hours later. "I'm sorry, we got to talking."

"You mean fucking," I thought, though, honestly, I couldn't accuse her of that, not if they really were talking.

Our call was quick; she was tired.

I slept fitfully. I think I was erect all night. I think I was awake most of the night. Angry. Excited. Hurt. Thrilled. I didn't know what to feel. I fantasized about Emily with a man.

I got a good morning text from my lover, but didn't hear from her until later in the day. She and Evan were going golfing. 11:00 tee time. Emily is a late sleeper, so she likely slept until it was time to golf.

Or...I don't know if I want the or...

Remember, I'm trying to figure out, without asking, what, if anything, she did.

I heard from her again at 5:30. She was drunk...or really tipsy, at least. "We had Irish Cream in our coffee, a couple of six packs golfing...I know, I drank too much," she laughed. "I miss you," she cooed.

"I miss you too, Emily. What are you..."

"Evan, stop," Emily laughed, cutting me off. "My boyfriend, silly...want to say to him," she asked Evan.

My blood froze. I had no desire to talk to Evan! Luckily, he had no desire to talk to me. Why would he? He fucked, or wanted to fuck, my girlfriend. Like he wanted to talk to me.

Emily and Evan went to some play that night, dinner. Em texted me from the play, "Play is great, Evan is so nice to do this."

Evan, Evan.

10, 11, 12, 1, 2, 3...I lay in bed watching the clock. 3. 3 in the morning, nothing from Em. I was laying on her side of the bed, wearing on of her negligees. 3 in the fucking morning.

3:30. Ring. "Damn, woman, I didn't think you could stay up this late."

"I know, hon," Emily said in almost a whisper. "I'm sorry, I must have drifted off."

Drifted off. When does a woman drift off? After sex?

"I love you, sweetie," she said, "I'll be home by 4 tomorrow, so I'm leaving at noon."

Another night of fitful sleep. Another night fantasizing about Emily with Evan. Another night dreading the same.

The next morning she called at 1:00. She was just leaving. "Sorry, he wouldn't let me leave. I've been up for awhile, made coffee, then we were just laying there and he got some pictures out of his night stand and was showing me..."

I don't know what she said after that.

Laying there. They were just laying there. In his bed.

I don't know. I don't know if she was teasing me or not. I don't know if I'd rather have her fuck him, complete the fantasy, or if that would be the worst thing in the world.

I don't know.

I don't know.



Source: Captive Me


Source: Captive Me

Saturday, May 23, 2009

How I want to submit to Emily


Emily is a big fan of matching lingerie. Every bra must match every pair of panties which must match every garter belt, if she wears one. Not that I dispute her thoughts on the topic. I prefer her in matching lingerie and prefer to wear the same.

It is a little after 8:30, so Emily is out with Evan at the concert they are going to tonight.

And all I can think about is...

Which bra and panty set is she wearing? She packed this one. It was the fanciest she packed. Is she wearing it tonight?

She called me at about 6:00. "I'm kind of drunk," she laughed.

"At 6:00?"

"We had some Kahlua in our coffee this morning, and I kind of drank a six pack when we were golfing."

"So what are you doing now?"

"Getting dressed to go to the concert whatever we are doing after."

That's when I started thinking about the bra and panty set.

Is she wearing it now? Did she get dressed in it thinking how pretty, how sexy she must look.

Is he going to see it later?

I'm ashamed to admit (yes, this is a confessional blog entry) that I'm completely turned on by the thought, by imagining her standing in front of a bed, Even laying in it, watching her in just her bra and panty set.

I DON'T want that to happen, but I'm incredibly excited thinking about it.


And a couple of more

Чулки! Только Чулки!

The last few pictures are from this wonderful blog in some strange language.

Чулки! Только Чулки!

Simply Beautiful

Sexy Fishnets

Decisions, Decisions

Beautiful Stockings


What is she relaxing from? A long day at work? A wonderful date with her lover? An evening with her boyfriend? Just something I'm thinking about with Emily out of town.

Kisses Sweeties

Friday, May 22, 2009

My kind of flight


Life Images


With Emily now gone (I'll post something about her departure later), I thought I'd do some more tuxedo pics.


I'll admit I'm somewhat confused, somewhat conflicted today.


Emily is going out of town this weekend.

She's going to visit a friend of hers about two hours away.

Someone she has not seen in a couple of years.

The friend...is...a man.

She's staying at his house.

I'm confused, I'm conflicted.

Emily would never, ever do anything to betray me.

But Emily knows my fantasies.

She never dated him, never slept with him. Though not for lack of trying on his part.

I told her I felt weird about it, that it felt weird that she was going to to visit a man, stay with him. She said you have to trust the one you're with.

She's right.

Last night I was sitting on our bed, reading, watching her pack. I watched her pack. Clothes for dinner tonight. Golf clothes for their "golf date" tomorrow (she called it a tee-time). Clothes for the concert and dinner they are going to tomorrow night.

"That blouse is kind of low cut, isn't it?"

"We're going to a concert and dinner, I want to look nice." I suppose she was right and it wasn't that low cut.

Then I saw her take that chemise out of her drawer and put it into her bag.

"Why are you bring that, Em," I asked.

"Something to sleep in," she said nonchalantly, "why, you worried I'm bringing it for Evan?"


She winked at me. "It's to sleep in, that's all, hon."

Last night, in bed, I was massaging her with lotion, something I often do at bed time. Emily was laying on her stomach, naked. I was on top of her, also naked, gently massaging motion into her back, lost in my thoughts, my own private submission to her.

"I know you fantasize about it," she said turning her head slightly, looking up at me.

"What," I asked her, not sure what she was talking about.

"I know you fantasize about me sleeping with a man."

"Emily!" I kept rubbing her back, aware what both of us were aware. My naked, flaccid penis was getting erect.

"I told you," she laughed, moving her ass so my erection slipped between her cheeks, touched her warmth, pressed against her.

"That's...I mean...fantasy."

"I know, sweetie, I know. But I like it when you get excited," she inhaled, rubbing on me.

I swallowed again, aware that she was teasing me, aware that, to an extent, she was using my fantasy for her purposes, exciting me, not just for me, but for her.

"I know you fantasize about it, I know you fantasize about cuckolding."

I wanted to deny it, but I couldn't, not with her rubbing on me, not with her seductive tone, the truth of her words.

"Are you going to fantasize about it this weekend, sissy? Are you going to fantasize about Evan fucking me?"

I pushed into, giving her just what she wanted. I let her push me to the brink of frustration, unable to deny it, to deny her.


I'm back

Two crazy days. In honor, here are two lovely pictures from Stocking Vixen.

Stocking Vixenette - a sweet, slightly naughtier and somewhat more minature version of Stocking Vixen