Monday, January 27, 2014

Tara Emory is a fox

Healthy Talk

We had a long talk this weekend, again, about us. About him. We commented that it's almost humorous to hear what the other likes. But just the same, it was healthy to talk about concerns, too.

My biggest concern? I suppose the ultimate fear, the ultimate risk, that she'll fall out of love with me, or just as bad, fall in love with him (or anyone else.)

Ironically, her biggest concern? That I would become jealous, not just erotic jealous, but real jealous, that I would see what she was doing as betrayal, reject her, leave her.

It's funny, my deepest desire is to serve her, to forego my genetic gender, to be feminized to free myself from male behavior patterns. But to remain her best friend, her companion, her soul-mate. She knows this, this is what I told her. I deeply want to be her sissy and could never go back.

She agreed, too. She could never see me as a man, even if she once did, or tried to. She can never see me in that role, again, as much as I don't want it.

To us, to both of us, cuckolding wasn't just a fantasy I had, it seemed a natural progression, even an inevitable progression. It's as mental a turn on for her as it is for me. It's not just the physical pleasure of sex with a man (though there's that). It's not just here desire to, from time to time, take on the traditional female role (though there's that). It's not just the turn-on she has being with an alpha man (though there's that).

It's that cuckolding enhances my feminization. It's that cuckolding enhances the strange roles we prefer with one another. Being with a man actually makes her feel more assertive with me, more dominant, happy to experience sex and intimacy with me in a way she'd never seek with a man.

It's not that we don't like intercourse with one another, it's that there's a strange dynamic when we do that, a pressure I feel, one she senses. On the rare occasions we have "normal" sex, I feel this pressure to act like a man and I hate it. I mean, I like the physical feeling of being inside her, but not the mental pressure of performing the role.

If we're going to continue with this, something be both admitted we want, wee questioned whether Jeff is the right man. Certainly, from an excitement perspective, yes. Her interactions with him actually have caused us to become more intimate with one another, more passionate.

That mollifies a concern—cuckolding is not cheating, it is supposed to enhance our marriage, not undermine it. Cuckolding is not infidelity. If it were either, it would destroy us. We talked about what was in her heart. If she didn't love me, this would be wrong. If she was missing something I could and should provide, this would be wrong.

The dividing line is cuckolding a part of our relationship versus straight out cheating. We both realize we're kind of inexperienced in this, that we have to be careful, that us, our relationship, is what is at the heart of cuckolding and what's at stake, too. We both know this has to be mutual, we both have to want it, we both have to want it to continue. And we both have to be open and honest. Totally open and honest.

Which brought us back to Jeff? Is he right person? Ultimately, probably not. He is or was the right person for now, but we don't think he's the right person in the long run, not while working with her. Too close, too close to our vanilla life, working with her. Evan is probably better as an occasional lover, someone not connected to our "real" lives better as a more long term relationship. He has the right mental attitude—he doesn't want to fall in love and marry—but he's too close if things go bad.

She asked me if what she did was a mistake, if what we did was a mistake. We concluded not. Well, maybe, but probably not. We don't regret it. But it's not going to continue with him, not as a long-term partner, anyway.

As an ending note to this post, realize I don't post everything we do or talk about. Sometimes I don't have the time, sometimes I pour my emotions into my fictional writing. Sometimes I just don't want to go into it. But I appreciate all the comments, support, and warnings, positive and negative, because I love all my readers and think you all have my best interests at heart.

Oh, and after our talk? We went to bed and kissed for what seemed like hours  Just like girls. :)

Monday, January 20, 2014

Helping her dress for the big night?

He knows

“He knows.”
I looked over at Emily, we were sitting on the couch yesterday morning reading the paper, drinking coffee. “Who? Knows what?”
“Jeff…” She looked at me, bit her lip, “he…he knows you know.”
“How?” My heart beat faster, I didn’t know why, but it did. “He knows?”
“It’s funny,” she giggled, “those are the words…we had lunch Friday…I wasn’t sure how to tell you…”
“What do you mean those are the words he used,” I asked.
“That’s what he said to me…’he knows’ doesn’t he. Meaning you.”
She giggled again. “Sorry, that’s what I said…’what’? We were talking about something, I mentioned where you and I were going Friday night and he just sat back with a sly smile and said ‘he knows, doesn’t he.’”
“What did you say,” I asked.
“What could I say, I evaded the question.”

“Jeff, why…why would you think that?”
“The way you smile when you talk about him, Emily, the way you seem so happy. How nervous you were on New Years Eve.”
“Women usually have affairs when they’re unhappy. Or drifted apart. Or are bored. You don’t seem to be any of those.”
“Jeff, I…”
“He knows, doesn’t he?”

“What did you say,” I asked, mouth dry.
“My god! What…what did he say?”

“He knew before?”
“Jeff, please, you…you don’t understand, we…”
“Don’t understand? Oh, Emily, of course I understand, you think I’m that unsophisticated? You think I don’t feel it too?”
“Feel what?”
“Do you know why I like fucking married women, Emily?”

“Fuck, Em!”
“Sorry, he’s so…direct…there was no one around, though.”

“I understand what a married woman wants…sex…she doesn’t want a relationship…nor do I…she doesn’t want drama…nor do I. She wants what I want. Sex. Sex is on her mind. Sex is the goal. But there’s more, too. I’m a dominant person, Emily, obviously, and it’s empowering to have a woman, a married woman, offer herself to me, a woman who’s normally off limits. There’s something so erotic, so appealing to me to be with a woman who ‘belongs’ to someone else.”

I just stared at her…that’s the opposite of what I feel. Or perhaps the other side of the same coin.

“Jeff, I…I love him…very much.”
“Of course you do, that’s as obvious as anything. But it doesn’t change the fact that he knows. Or that he enjoys it, too.”

“You told him I like it, Emily?” 
“Told him? I didn’t have to tell him…he…he knows. I mean…he knows.”
“What did you say? Fuck. What did he say?”
“He…I…he said to tell you he knows.”
“That’s it? Em! Does he know that…that…” I looked down at the neglige I was wearing, the swell of the breastforms.
“Yes, that…that’s it. He just said to tell you he knows…that you should know he knows. And no,” she pointed at me, “I didn’t tell him about that!”
“What does he want? Are you…does he want…”
“I…I don’t know…he…he didn’t say.”
And suddenly the ground shifted. I knew what Emily wanted, the same thing I wanted. I think. But did he want that, too? And if not, what did he want? Fuck, life isn’t the stories I write, it’s…different. It’s real. It’s confusing. It’s powerful. 


Except he has the power. But then, he’s the alpha male, not me.

“Emily, do you…do you want to…see him again.”
“Yes, but…but not if you…”
“He knows,” I interrupted her.
I was overcome, leaned into her, kissed her, deeply, deeply.
He knows. He knows. He knows.

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Deny it all you want, something always gives you away.


This isn't me, but this is pretty much how I looked this morning.


Sitting on the couch, waiting for her lover to pick her up, she glances over at her husband. "I know you have mixed emotions, honey, I get it, but that," she points at his caged penis, "that swelling always gives away your true feelings."

Saturday, January 11, 2014


"What...where...where am I," he grunted, waking up as the anesthesia wore off.

"You're in the recovery room," the pretty nurse said with a smile.

"But...but it's dark out," he said, confused. "I thought a vasectomy only took a few minutes?"

"A vasectomy? You weren't scheduled for a vasectomy, you were scheduled for a full sex change."

Friday, January 10, 2014

Monday, January 6, 2014

Yes, everything is good.

It's just, well...

More intense than we thought.

Scarier than we thought.

More erotic than we thought.

More emotional than we thought.

Oddly, more loving than we thought.

More tender than we thought.

And so we've kind of just sat around and giggled like little girls over this snowy weekend.

And made love ourselves, several times.

And talked.

And cuddled.

And asked one another over and over is the other was okay.

And laughed each time.

And made love again.

Thursday, January 2, 2014


Before getting out of the car, his wife started to take off her pantyhose, looked over at her husband, said, "No need for these," she said, "you know he'll just rip them off the second I get inside. Why don't you take them home and wash them for me.