Friday, January 31, 2020

A First Real Date Part 1

Seeing Emily’s dress, how it showed off her braless breasts, how when she sat it showed off the tops of her stockings, I couldn’t help but think how the first time with Brian was like the last time with Matthew almost two years ago. 

The last time with Matthew, she dressed like a high-class call girl, a whore, sat in a bar and waited for him. Flirted with two random men who hit on her before Matthew arrived, flirted himself, then took her upstairs and took her.

Emily’s dress wasn’t exactly a winter-appropriate dress but then Brian told her he expected her to dress sexy and revealing when she saw him. In that way, he wasn’t unlike any other man who liked his woman to dress pretty, feminine, sexy. The difference was, like any man getting involved in a relationship like this, one where he was without question the alpha, dominant man, he was in a position to express that desire, to make it an expectation. And she would strive to meet that expectation. 

Brian wasn’t playing Matthew’s game, not yet, but there were similarities. They were meeting for a drink at a fancy speakeasy next to a nice hotel. The drink to break any ice, the last opportunity to abort, then, if things went well, a room when a man would take a woman. 

Seeing her, seeing her breasts on display, seeing the stockings, the inch of bare thigh, the garter straps, the heels, everything, it was apparent Emily was sure and was presenting that assuredness to him. 

“I…I guess it’s a foregone conclusion,” I said.

“For me,” she confirmed, “so I guess it’s up to him.”

“Look…look at yourself, Emily, he’s not going to be able to resist even if he wanted to.”

She laughed. “You think I’m irresistible?


“Almost makes you want me for yourself tonight, doesn’t it?”

“Al…almost,” I said if almost meant part of me absolutely wanted her for myself.”

“I know love, and as much as I love making love to my soft, pretty girl, you know I want a man tonight.”

“I…I know,” I said, all the feelings missed over the last two years flooding over me, again thinking how he would see her, how he would see a married woman sitting in a bar with him. A married woman in a low-cut dress, her breasts purposefully on display. A married woman with long, beautiful legs, made sexier by four-inch heels, obviously encased in stockings. 

The word Matthew often used came to mind, not one uttered by Brian, but one he would have to think as well, one I knew turned her on immensely, one she was obviously intending to call to my mind and his. 

She stood, the hem of her dress dropped several inches, enough to cover the tops of her stockings, but far from modest. I knew he’d see her like this, then more when she sat. She came up to me, kissed the side of my face, whispered in my ear. “I know what you’re thinking, love,” she said.

“You…you think?” I asked.

“Yes I do,” she said, “you’re thinking your wife looks like a whore.” I couldn’t help but gasp, not just because she was right, not just because she knew I was thinking it, but from hearing her utter the word. “I hope he thinks it too, lover, I hope he thinks it because you both know a married woman shouldn’t dress like this to meet a man at a hotel bar.”

“Emily,” I said, feeling dizzy.

“That’s what I missed so much these last two years, lover. Not at first, but certainly now. I know it’s wrong, I know it’s awfully wrong, but that’s what I miss, I miss being a man’s whore.”

“God, Emily,” I said, feeling like I was going to burst. 

“Men don’t fall for whores, do they, they fall for good girls. It’s so weird, men want to fuck whores, but they rarely want to date them.”

I understood in a moment of clarity what she was doing. Not just tonight, not just wanting to signal her availability, how badly she wanted to fuck, but to signal from the beginning it was about sex, not emotion. Signaling he could have her but never have her. She would be his bad girl, never his good girl. Signaling to set an expectation of boundaries. That’s what I understood in that moment of clarity. Signaling to him and to me. 

“Do I need to tell him or is it implied.”

“Tell him?”

“That I’m his whore, lover, that he can do whatever he wants to me sexually, that he can have my mouth or my pussy, or even…well…you know. That he can be as gentle or as rough as his desires.”


“That he can fuck me and cum wherever he wants, on me or in me, as much as he wants.”


“Are you excited, lover? Are you as excited as I am?”

“Y…yes,” I said, mouth dry.

“Do I look like a whore, lover?”

“Yes, god yes.”

“Do I need to tell him or will he understand.”

I thought of him seeing her, seeing how she was dressed. He’d understand. Any man would understand. “He…he’ll understand.”

“He’ll understand your wife wants to be his whore?” she asked as she reached down, touched the front of my skirt, felt the cage. Without it, I would have burst, literally and figuratively. 

“Yes,” I moaned.

“I don’t know what time I’ll be home, lover, he might…he might decide a drink is enough.”

“He…he won’t…”

“Yea,” she acknowledged. “I’ll try not to stay the night; I know you want me to come home so you can, you know…”


“Shhh, it’s okay. We don’t have to pick up the baby until after lunch, so no matter you’ll have your special time with me.”

“Will you…can we…” I looked down, left the question implied.

“You know that’s not a good idea, sweetie. Especially the first time. You know it’s better to focus on me.”

“I know,” I said, disappointed but only a little, too excited.

She was picked up at 8:00; he sent a car; they were meeting at 8:30. And how I sit home on a Friday night, sit home alone because my wife is out with a man. I sit home waiting, knowing what will happen. I sit home, writing and waiting. 

I'm grateful I'm caged and locked, knowing if I wasn't I'd have misbehaved immediately. Instead, I can only wait, picture my wife, dressed purposefully to look like a whore, meeting a man for one purpose.

Assuming the night goes as she wants, I'll be busy later. Busy. Busy.

Friday, January 24, 2020


Of course you don't like the taste, what husband likes the taste of another man's cum?

But the more you complain, the more she enjoys it, because your humiliation turns her on.

"Don't worry, love, you'll get used to it, trust me. You may not come to love it like I do, but the more you do it, the easier it becomes."

Wednesday, January 22, 2020

A text exchange after a story was shared

Brian: Holy Shit, Emily, are you kidding me?

Emily: I'm nervous responding. No, no, I'm not. That's just a story, that's not a biography. But the core elements in the story are reality.

Brian: Holy Shit.

Emily: Yes.

Brian: The last guy you dated knew all this?

Emily: Yes.

Brian: Fuck.

Emily: Yes. Listen, if this is too much...

Brian: Did I say that?

Emily: No, I just...not every guy would understand.

Brian: Are you looking to get fucked or have a relationship?

Emily: You have to understand, nothing is more important than my marriage.

Brian: I think I get that. But that doesn't answer the question?

Emily: If you can believe it, neither...and both.

Brian: You're not cheating; I thought that at first. This is way beyond that.

Emily: It's way beyond that.

Brian: You said you liked strong men, I guess I get that now.

Emily: I love my husband very much. More than anyone, ever.

Brian: But that the right pronoun? I have to admit I'm not sure.

Emily: Depends...we use both. Sometimes he's a male and we use he, sometimes she's a girl and we use she.

Brian: I'm making a joke, but it's serious, too. He's your husband but he's no man.

Emily: Yea. Part husband, part wife, part male, part female.

Brian: Crass question. Do you have sex?

Emily: Yes, but not like, well, not like normal couples.

Brian: Laugh. Ever?

Emily: It's not really I don't know how to talk about's not something she likes to do. I mean, part of her...him...does...wants to, but part doesn't. It's complicated but we don't do that.

Brian: Sex like a man and a woman.

Emily: Basically.

Brian: I have about a thousand questions, but I suppose there are only a couple of important one.

Emily: Like?

Brian: Were you just teasing and flirting at dinner or are you serious?

Emily: I...I'm serious.

Brian: What are the logistics?

Emily: That sounds so romantic.

Brian: I'm serious, Emily.

Emily: I know, I'm kidding. I am too. You can meet my husband first or not, Matthew did but you don't have to.

Brian: As a male or female?

Emily: Depends on what you're comfortable with.

Brian: Not first then. You first. Later. What else? You mentioned an IUD and testing.

Emily: We get blood tests. That's something we're firm about.

Brian: That makes it more than random sex with a guy.

Emily: I suppose it does. It's a fun fantasy but too dangerous in reality.

Brian: So a test...then?

Emily: If you're really a strong man, you'll figure it out.

Brian: I was hoping it was something like that. How long's it been?

Emily: Two years.

Brian: How can you stand it?

Emily: I'm glad you didn't push in the elevator.

Brian: Final logistic question then, we just get tests and exchange results and then it's up to me?

Emily: Basically.

Brian: I'll get it done this week. I expect you too to do the same.

Emily: Now that's the strong man I was hoping for.

Brian: You looked very sexy when we had dinner; I expect more of that.

Emily: I'd have it no other way.

Brian: Two years?

Emily: Two years.

Monday, January 13, 2020

Hi Did Matthew know about this blog? Does Brian know about this blog? If he doesn't, will he in the near future? Curious minds are asking. (smile)

Someone asked that in the comments this morning which is a funny question since that was the topic of a conversation Emily and I had over the weekend.

Not Matthew, but Brian.

First, did Matthew know about the blog? Not really, or didn't care. But he didn't have it, read it, etc.

Brian? Same.

But what brought about the conversation with Emily was Brian's questions to her, mostly about me, our relationship, and our experiences.

Obviously he's curious, I mean, he's flirting with a married woman, and she tells him her husband is okay with that. But is he ( really?

We talked about showing him the blog, but decided against it.

First, she didn't want him to do the inevitable comparison to Matthew. Matthew was Matthew, Brian is Brian.

Second, it give too much insight into too many things, certainly at first. Some things he should discover for himself. Besides, if he's the kind of man we hope he is, he should lead on things.

But that still leaves explaining things. I suggested giving him one of the stories I wrote, perhaps A Change in Our Marriage. That gives insight to me, ultimately to us, without giving everything about us.

How will he react? I don't know. We're nervous, but ultimately, he should know.

Wednesday, January 8, 2020


" jeans today, Erica," he said to the girl at work he has a crush on, a girl who usually wore jeans, working up the nerve to say it after practicing for hours.

"Nope," she said, giving him the dismissive look she usually had.

" look really pretty today."

"Thanks," she said, glancing at him, "I have a date with a guy from accounting after work."

" do?" he asked, disappointment on his face despite his best efforts.

"Yea," she said sitting down. "What's wrong with that?"

"N...nothing," he mumbled.

"What?" she asked again.

"I...I thought...I mean...I was wondering...there's this bar...and...well..."

"Listen," she said leaning forward, her skirt going up, exposing the top of a stocking, "let's just get this out in the open, shall we?"

"Get...get what out in the open?" he asked.

"I don't date losers like you, okay? It's fine to be friends, but don't get it in your mind you ever have a chance with me."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, trying to play it off.

"You were going to ask me out," Erica shook her head. "Never going to happen."

"I...I was not," he stammered.

"If not, it's only because you're afraid to," she shook her head, "another reason you're never getting a girl like me."

Thursday, January 2, 2020

Let's be real....

You've not a real man.

You're never going to be a real man.

No woman is ever going to desire you.

No woman is going to want to sleep with you.

So stop pretending and accept the fact that you're a sissy. Not a boy who plays at it, you're a sissy through and through.

Accept the only way you'll be happy is to embrace your femininity.

And accept the only sex you're ever going to have is with men.

Accept your penis is never going inside a woman, but plenty of cock is going inside of you.

Negative Reinforcement

True, so true.


The girl next door told you that as a boy, you never had a chance to get a woman, that it was so much easier for you to dress as a girl and get a man. Turns our, she was right. 


After her second date with Brian, I asked Emily if she considered re-connecting with Matthew. She laughed, way ahead of me as usual.

"Of course," she said, "I'm surprised you didn't ask until now."

"Well I...I don't know...did you call him?" I asked, already picturing her with him.

"I thought about it," she admitted, "I had this speech all written in my head and picked up my phone a dozen times."

"What stopped you?" I asked.

"What stopped me?" she looked at me in surprise. "You, of course," she said.

"Me? I never said not to contact him," I said.

She smiled. "I didn't say that."

"What do you mean?"

"Sweetie, I'm sure you would have said yes if I asked, but, while I considered it, I decided not to."

"I'm confused, you said I stopped you."

Emily frowned. "You didn't tell me not to, it wasn't like that, sweetie."

"Didn't you like him?"

"Of course. And that's the point," she said, "I did...and he liked me...didn't you get a the end...we were playing with fire."

"I don't know what you mean," I said, though in a way I suppose maybe I did.

"He was falling for me."

"What? He said that?"

"No, of course not, love. And he'd probably deny it, but a woman can tell these things. I don't think he wanted to, it was just happening..."

"How...I don't think..."

"It was...he...he wanted to...he asked me to go on vacation with him...he wanted to go to the Caribbean for week at a couple's only resort."

"You've left town with him before."

"Yea," she said, "but this was...I don't know if he even meant it, but this seemed he wanted a week away with his girlfriend..."

"Well you were practically that," I said looking down, stomach flipping.

"Kind do I explain it...what was I to him? At the the end? Not his girlfriend. What was I?"

I looked down again, knew the word she was looking for. "You were his...," I whispered, about inaudible.

"His what?" she asked gently touching me. "Go ahead, say it."

"You were his whore," I said, still almost inaudible.

"His whore," she repeated. "I was his whore. It still turns you on, doesn't it? Thinking of me being a whore for a man?"

"Emily," I said.

"I know it's naughty, but it turns you on, doesn't it?"

" know it does," I said.

"That's what I was  afraid of, Sara, that he was starting to see me not as his whore but as his girlfriend."

I looked down, knowing that was always a risk with him. "Do you think he..."

"He wanted to go away for a week, love, even if he didn't mean it that way, I could tell it was changing. We have to protect against that, you know that. We talked about it when he and I...stopped seeing each other."

"What if it wasn't, though?"

"It's not worth it."

"I know," I said. "I just...miss it."

"And you think I don't?"

" do, I know."

"Whore, not girlfriend."

"I know."

"It wasn't worth the risk, lover, you're more important than anything." She leaned into me, kissed me deeply. "I liked being a man's whore, love, I can't be a man's girlfriend. It's just too much."

"Emily..." I said, knowing she was right.

"That's how I felt at dinner...when I got dressed, I thought of myself like that. I don't know if he picked up on it or if he's just like that, but...I hope he get's the difference. Whore, not girlfriend."

"Were you...excited?" I asked.

"Excited? Are you fucking kidding? Of course I was excited," she said, "I'm just glad he didn't do anything, I would have had trouble stopping it."


"If he had dragged me across the street to the hotel..."

"You wouldn't have!"

"Not without a condom," she smiled at me.


"I know, I hate to use a condom, but you know...if he's serious, I told him we'll want all of us to get tested."

"You did not," I said.

"I did to," she said seriously. "He asked about logistics with Matthew. I told him I was on the pill then and we all got tested before we did everything."

"What did he say?"

She laughed. "About no condoms? I told him Matthew had a rule about that."

"A rule?" I asked.

"That's what he said...a rule? I said, yes, a rule. I told him Matthew had rules about things, that that was one of the things we liked about him, how he took charge, set the rules."

"I assume he wanted to know what these rules were?"

"No, actually, he didn't ask. He smiled, though, seemed to get  it. He just asked about birth control again...assuming anything happens...he said. I told him I got an IUD but that we insisted on testing."

"Jesus, Emily, no wonder he was all hands in the elevator, he's already picturing his cock inside you."

"Makes two of us," she smiled.


"God, it's been almost two years since I've fucked a man. Imagine going that long without...oh fuck, I didn't mean it like that," she said.

"I know," I said.

"Well, you know what I mean," she said.

" something going to come of this?" I asked.

"Do you want it to?" she pushed back.


"I'm serious, love, do you?"

" know I do," I blushed, looked down, the admission I wanted a man to fuck my wife embarrassing as always.

"Are you sure? You've had me to yourself for awhile now. I mean, well you know."

I knew. She meant we had been monogamous for well over a year, not that I had the chance to fuck her during that time, just that I didn't share her. "I...I don't mind sharing," I said.

"You don't mind sharing?" she laughed. "That's so bland. Is that all it is? Sharing? And you just 'don't mind' it."


"Let me ask it another way, love, do you want me to be a man's whore again?"


"Do you want me to be a man's whore? Make myself available to a man to use me how he wants? Not his girlfriend, not someone he's emotionally attached to, his whore. Something he uses for base, wanton sex. A woman he can explore all his sexual desires with, a woman he can do things to you only fantasize about?"

"God, Emily."

"Do you want me to be a man's whore? You know men see it differently, right? Men treat girlfriends with love, respect. Men treat whore's sex objects." I was shaking at her words, she knew it. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes," I burst out, "yes, please...yes..."

"That's what I like, lover...letting a man use me...knowing you want a man to use me, too, use me in ways you never have, never will."