Thursday, April 29, 2010


"You wanted to see me Mr. Simpson?"

"Um, yes, er, John, we...we need to talk about your work attire."

"My work attire, Mr. Simpson? I...I don't understand."

"Well, John, this is kind of awkward for me, but,'ve been wearing skirts to the office."

"Yes, I have Mr. Simpson."

"John, is against company policy!"

"Against company policy? Put Mr. Simpson, I checked the personnel book very closely, especially the dress code part...I have it right here. I don't see any prohibition."

"You did? You do?"

"I did, Mr. Simpson. Look, right here, on page 85, it states, 'Employee Attire. The Company is a professional organization and as such expects all executives to be professionally attired at all times.' And then here, on page 88. 'Professional attire shall mean matching trousers and coats (suits), matching skirts and coats (skirt suits), or skirts and blouses.' I've been wearing a skirt suit or skirt and blouses all week, Mr. Simpson."


"And here, Mr. Simpson, page 90. 'If wearing a skirt, the visible portion of the employee's leg shall be covered in hosiery at all times.' I...I've been wearing hosiery, Mr. Simpson, pantyhose on Monday, and a garter belt or girdle and stockings the rest of the week."

"But, John,'re...I're not a female."

"Mr. Simpson?"

"The policy about skirts only refers to women, John,'re..."

"But...Mr. Simpson, doesn't refer only to women, Mr. Simpson, just an employee, a generic employee. It is gender neutral."

"But men are not supposed to wear skirts, John!"

"I...I'm not really a man, Mr. Simpson. I mean, I'm a genetic male, but I'm really, a...well, a sissy."

"John, don't you see, it is very distracting for dress like that at the office."

"Distracting? I don't understand. How is it distracting?"

"John, don't...don't you see? A man sees a woman wearing stockings, dangling a are visual, they, um...they get...distracted."

"Distracted? Really?"

"Yes, John."

"But Mr. Simpson, you mean to tell that men at the office get distracted by me slipping my heel on and this?"

"Mr. Simpson?"

"Yes, yes, for crying out loud, yes."

"But why Mr. Simpson? You don't think the men here find me attractive?"


"I mean, I'd hate to distract anyone, Mr. Simpson, especially any of the men. Wait, Mr. Simpson?"

"Yes, John?"

"I'm not distracting you, am I? Sitting outside your office? Right there, at my desk? I know it's just a table, no real sides, but...does it distract you when I uncross and recross my legs?"

"John, you..."

"You know, Mr. Simpson, I was also reading the personnel manual about, relationships amongst employees. They are not forbidden, you know."

"I...I know, John, I helped write the manual."

"There is a notice requirement though, for certain relationships. I think the employees need to send HR a letter within 72 hours."

"That requirement is only for sexual relationships, John."

" I don't remember, I did not read that part too closely, I was so busy studying the part about the dress see if a garter belt was okay, I love wearing garter belts."

" do...I mean...John...anyway, employees only need give a 72 hour notice after a sexual relationship."

"72 hours? So, Mr. Simpson, if I had a sexual relationship with a fellow employee, I only need to give HR notice after?"

"Yes, within 72 hours."

"So, if someone, oh, if some fellow employee came back to my house to, um, more closely inspect my attire to see if it complied with company policy, I would not have to report it if we did not have a sexual relationship?"

"Um, yes."

"Hmmm. So, hypothetically, if a supervisor wanted to see the rest of my lingerie, my garter belt, my silver satin camisole and tap panty set, you know, just to make sure my lingerie complied with the dress code, he...he could do that?"

"Yes, yes, John, a supervisor could."

"And what if, I don't know, what if a supervisor wanted to, I don't know, um, get closer, you know, really look carefully at an employees's lingerie, maybe even feel it, how soft, how pretty it is. That's okay, right?"

"I...I suppose a supervisor could do that, without notifying HR."

"Just to ensure compliance, of course."

"Of course, John."

"Well the manual said that no undergarments should be visible, so what if, I don't know, what if a supervisor wanted to check, you know, closely, really, really closely, how an employees pretty, soft, satin panties fit? Could he do that?"

"Oh god."

"Mr. Simpson?"

"Yes, John, yes."

"Without notifying HR?"

"Yes, yes."

"Sometimes the best way to tell if undergarments will be visible is to feel the curve of the garment against the skin, you know, he might have to run his hands over my...I mean, the employee's panties. That's not a sexual relationship, so I...the employee...would not need to tell HR, right?"

"No, I...I suppose not."

"What if the panties were visible? I only ask because I thought my panty line might be visible through my skirt."

"Well, that...that would be a violation of company policy."

"A violation?"


"We...we get punished for violating policy, don't we?"

"Yes, of course, write ups, violation interviews, even..."



"There is nothing in the manual that prohibits corporal punishment, is there?

"Spankings, I...don't think..."

"I'm just asking if a supervisor could do that, spank an employee."

"I think...there must be something that prohibits, that..."

"That's not a sexual relationship?"

"No, no."

"So no notice to HR and nothing in a personnel file?"


"I'm only asking because, well, if a supervisor wanted to take a pretty young employee across his lap after looking closely at the employee's lingerie, stockings, garter belt, panties, that...that would be allowed?"

"I...I can't think of...of anything..."

"And if the supervisor, I don't know...maybe liked it...just a little...spanking a panty covered behind, that's not sex either, right?"


"I'm only asking, Mr. Simpson, if while spanking the employee, the supervisor got, um, an erection, and accidentally know... while spanking, rubbed against the employee, that...that's allowed?"

"I...I suppose, but..."

"No notice to HR?"

"No, but..."

"You know, Mr. Simpson, in days gone by, after a spanking, the person who got spanked often had to thank the person administering the punishment."

"Thank him?"

"Yes. I know how I'd want to thank a strong man for a hard spanking."

" do?"

"Yes, Mr. Simpson. If I felt his erection pressing into me, I'd want to do something for him, to properly thank him."

"I don't think..."

"It's hard work spanking a pretty employee, I think a supervisor that does that deserves something relaxing, deserves release for all the tension that must get built up."

"But John..."

"Would that be a sexual relationship?"


"I'm just asking, I guess, just to be clear, if after you spanked me...I mean, after a supervisor spanked an employee, if the employee, you know, maybe got down on hands and knees and properly thanked the supervisor for the spanking, and helped him get some release, would HR have to be notified?"

"I...I don't know, John, I..."

"Just a little licking, Mr. Simpson, that's not sex, right? Licking and kissing and touching a supervisor'"

"John, please..."

"And if it slipped into the employee's accident, that's not really sex, right, it's just, thanking him for the spanking."


"Mr. Simpson."

"I...go home, John, now, just go home, this isn't..."

"Will you be administering any punishment tonight, Mr. Simpson."

"That depends on your lingerie, John, that depends on my inspection.

Another editorial I LOVE

I absolutely adore this editorial, given that it makes my mind race with fantasy, thinking of Emily, some unknown man at the office, his advances towards her, her resisting, weakly, wanting, but saying now.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Memorial Day

Emily were in bed Friday evening; we had a "date night," well, "date day" I suppose, since it really started at lunch time when we both blew off our office jobs for the weekend. We golfed that afternoon (I won, as usual), had a few beers and a hot dog on the course, then cooked dinner on the grill and enjoyed the spring evening.

As I said, we were in bed, having showered, freshened up, pretty.

I was wearing a pink satin camisole and tap panty set, white lace top thigh high stockings, and a white bra holding my breastforms.

Emily was also dressed in lingerie, a black babydoll, sheer panties, black lace top thigh high stockings.

We had a bottle of wine in the bedroom (our second), some candles, yes, one of those evenings.

Emily was sitting up, leaning on an arm, with the other, reached up, touched my face. Her soft, stocking covered leg, was touching one of mine, gently, slowly, moving back and forth, caressing.

-You're so pretty.

I blushed, her words, her recognition of my femininity, her excitement, her reaction to it,
always brought me a rush.

-I love you.

I leaned in to kiss her, my lips barely brushed the bare skin of her neck, my favorite place to start, to smell, to savor, the scent of her, the feel of her.

She jumped, as did I, the sound startled us both. Her ringing cell phone, on the night stand. Beethoven's Ninth.

-Sorry. Let me just see who that is, turn that off.


I started to tell her to ignore it, to hold her in place with another kiss, but she was quick, with feline grace, had grabbed her iPhone.

-Oh, she said, swiping her finger across the screen, answering, not ignoring, the call.


Her voice, excited.

-No, no, don't be silly, how have you been?

I took a deep breath in, exhaled. Why did one of her friends have to call now? From her tone, it had to be one of her college girls. Fuck. Yea, fuck, when I wanted to fuck. Fuck.

-I know, it's been like forever!

I stared at her foot, her ankle, her calve. Perfect, made more so, encased in a stocking. I could not resist, not then, not ever. I scooted slowly towards the corner of the bed, here leg and foot rested, watching her out of the corner of my eye. Fine, if she wanted to interrupt my seduction, I'd just continue elsewhere, interrupt the interruption.

I was on my hands and knees, she was looking towards the window.

-Good, great, really, you?

My mouth was an inch from her foot, she was still paying me no attention. I inhaled again, long, deep, the perfume of her, her scent started in my nose, but worked its way, magically, into me, into my mind, my body.

I stared at her toes through the dark nylon, was almost shaking, the sight always setting my heart to racing.

I don't know if I wanted to, intended to, but I was overcome, helpless, really. My tongue darted out, licked, feline just as she was, graceful.

Emily jumped.


She looked over at me, crossed her eyes slightly, but did not move her foot.

-What? No, no, nothing.

I licked again, the back of her ankle, her calve.

-Memorial Day Weekend? No, that's charming. I don't think I have plans, just a sec, let me check.

She rolled onto her back, lifted her phone up to look at the screen. Intentionally or not, more likely so, the foot I had licked was on my chest, between my breasts, toes pointed directly towards my mouth, the other, with the same unaffected thought, came to rest directly against the front of my satin tap panties, unseen to me, but felt, erotically, through the fabric.

-I don't have anything on my calendar. What do you have in mind?

She was excited, by me or her free schedule for a get together with college friends, I did not know, but her toes moved forward, to my lips, presented themselves for adoration.

I opened my mouth, tongue extended, tasted, the nylon, her, encouraged by her other foot, softly, slowly, seductively, moving, massaging.

-That sounds. She paused, toes licked. -Wonderful. I'd love to come out there.

She can orgasm just from me licking her toes, something I was trying to create while she was on the phone.

-Well, email me, we can talk details later, but I'll block out the weekend. Yea, me, too. Talk to you later.

She hung up, dropped the phone on the table next to the bed.

-Who was that, I asked, looking up at her.

-Oh, fuck, don't stop, she hissed, pushing her toes back into my mouth, silencing me, rubbing me with her other foot, encouraging me, making me forget, for the moment, anything but her stocking covered legs.

Minutes later, I had worked my way up to her thighs, gently, teasingly, licking, kissing, the nylon, her bare skin just above. I enjoyed the teasing, brushing the tip of my nose over the sheer panties covering her, breathing, letting her know I was going to lick her, just not until she begged for it.

But Emily was not in the mood to beg for my oral attention, quite the opposite, rather. She lifted her hips, one, the other, her weight, force, flipping us, opposite, so I was on my back, she atop me, instead of my mouth hovering over her, she was hovering over me.

Instinctively, hungrily, I stuck my tongue out seeking the sheer fabric of her panties, the dampness already evident underneath. I was almost there, my tongue may have grazed the sheer nylon, when she lifted her hips up slightly.

-Now who is going to make who beg, sissy, she chuckled


She lowered her hips, again my tongue almost reached her when she stopped.

-It's ironic, most women have to beg their boyfriends to lick them.

-Please Emily. I asked softly, not even bothering to deny that she was right, not bothering to do anything but beg.

-You'll do anything I want, won't you my pretty lover?

-Yes. I whimpered, shaking with sexual excitement, spurred by her body, her lingerie, mine, her scent, anticipating the taste.

She lowered her hips yet again, this time allowing her panty covered mound to rest on my tongue for a second or two.

-I know how turned on you get licking me through my panties, she teased, imagining I've just come home from a date.

I gasped, the image immediately flashing into my mind, Emily now hovering over me, wet not just from her but...

She lowered herself onto me. -Taste it, lover, taste, open, taste.

I did, eyes closed, mouth open. It took less than a minute for her to orgasm, the wave starting, shaking, all over her, the wave that when I licked her, could go on and on and on, minute, after minute, ten, fifteen, more.

-Sara, she whispered. I opened my eyes as she lifted off my tongue, just an inch. I looked at her, but my eye went to her panties, her fingers moving them aside, touching herself, spreading herself, rubbing, shaking.

-Sara, she said again. My eyes went to hers, but right back to her fingers, now wet, rubbing.

-Saraaa, she was starting to shake, starting cum again.

-Sara, look at me.

I looked up, mouth open, tongue out. She bounced on it, once, twice, three times, touching her clit to the tip.

-The phone call, Sara, she managed to say, struggling to talk through her breathing, through the orgasm she was having from her fingers, the quick touches of my tongue.

-That was Evan.

I sucked in a deep breath, his name a shot through my skull.


She was going to see Evan.

He invited her for the weekend, Memorial Day weekend, as he did last year.


She was over my mouth, her orgasm powerful from my tongue, of its own volition, swarming all over her, sucking, kissing, licking, drinking.

She was going to spend the weekend with Evan again.

She did not ask, like last year, announced.


I thought his name as I licked her.


I imagined him inside her.


I imagined tasting him.



Thursday, April 15, 2010


Okay, okay, I've done a few covers you all enjoyed. How about a five page newsletter???

Here is the cover page. The link to the full pdf, as in all five pages, is below. Please let me know

1. If you like
2. If you have any problems with the pdf.

Link to the PDF

Monday, April 5, 2010

Get the Latest Issue

Proper Length

I don't know about you, but I need the tall for most garter belts, the medium for most girdles.

From: Bad Penny Blues