Ads

Yes, I added ads to the site. I'm experimenting. I do not want to take away from the visuals of my site, but hell, a girl has to make some money, too. Let me know what you think.

Oh, and if you spread the word about my blog, and more people visit, and I make more money, I'll quit my day job and post more :)

Seriously, feedback always loved.

And if you know how I can get more people here, to my blog, let me know.

Sara

Memorial Day

So we talked about the tit for tat thing; she really does think it's a cool idea. Not a long term thing she'd be into, but something kinky, fun, fresh for that weekend, anyway.

Seems that a CB chastity device can be had for not a terrible price. Do I really want to go down that road?

The unfortunate thing is, that as I type that question, something is stirring in my panties.

Do I want to wear a chastity cage? Hell no.

But why is there physical evidence of how exciting the thought it? If I wasn't wearing a girdle today, I'd have a tent in my trousers.

I suspect, with little pushing, I'll acquiesce.

I also suspect that if not mentioned again by her, I may practically beg for it.

Bizarre. What kind of boy (yes, yes, girl, I know), begs to be put in chastity.

Personally, I think it adds an element of excitement, anticipation, heightened awareness, a certain tease.

The weekend is more about tease than anything else (maybe...or maybe she will fuck him silly).

I think it adds to the tease, which is why it seems so exciting. Now, at least.

[UPDATE]

To clarify, the tit for tat is just a tit. Or just a tat. If we indulge, it will be chastity for me, only. Emily will retain her freedom.

Bedrooms

I was jealous that Emily got some new linens for her bedroom, so I splurged, too. I bought this one, from west elm.

I found it to be feminine, but overly so. It looks very tasteful and "fresh" in my bedroom. We'll be at my place this weekend, so we'll be enjoying it tonight and tomorrow.

I do not have, but love the headboard, in case you're wondering. It is on sale for $279. Not bad, not bad.

[UPDATE]

Anonymous has a quite amusing comment. I did consider a padded headboard, but remember, the headboard above would be quite convenient for tying my wrists to :)

Morning Tease

I slept in the guest room at Emily's last night. Not that I was bad or anything (well, maybe a little, it isn't my fault I snore sometimes.) After she dozed off with me gently rubbing her feet, then her legs, then her back, I read for awhile, then decided to decamp to the other room.

I tried to rub more, but was stopped. "Don't," she said quietly, but sternly when I allowed my hands to wander farther and farther up her things, glancing her pussy. "I'm tired, just the massage."

"Yes, Ma'am," I said, hiding the disappointment from my voice, easily losing myself in the pleasure of serving her.

I got up early the next morning, quietly went into Emily's master suite to use the shower and get dressed. While there is a bathroom connected to the spare room ("my room" as she jokes sometimes) I did not shower or dress in there; I only slept there from time to time. (Unlike some femdom stories, Emily does not "kick" me out of her room, I sometimes sleep in the guest room when I snore. She doesn't punish me like that.)

So, I showered (Emily uses the prettiest smelling body wash from Bath & Body Works, Blushing Cherry Blossom. Yes, only a sissy would not only know which scent she uses, but so look forward to using it herself.) I felt so pretty working the soft scented wash all over my skin, over my loins.

I dressed quietly in her walk in closet. A pair of white nylon full cut briefs (they keep the girdle fresh for several wearings, plus are quite effective for "tucking," covered with a Rago six strap open bottom girdle, white stockings from Secrets in Lace, and a pretty lilac satin camisole and tap panty set.

Yes, yes, I know, I'm a full blown sissy, what can I say? How women ever stopped wearing lingerie like this is beyond me.

Anyway, I had work to do, had to fly, had to finish dressing, so had to put on my "boy" clothes, which included a tee (to better hide my camisole), a French blue, French cuff Brooks Brothers dress shirt, a charcoal suit and a lime green striped silk tie.

Yes, even as a boy, I like fashion.

Finish with shoes and socks. As I've mentioned before, I nod toward the feminine in socks, usually wearing women's trouser socks over my stockings, the one feminine garment I can pass off as masculine.

I was about to sneak out of the room, took one look over my shoulder where Emily was sleeping in bed (she was getting a later start than I was.) She was naked, on her side, twisted in a sheet, mostly uncovered.

I thought about giving her a kiss, softly, but did not want to wake her.

I had my hand on the door handle, about to open, when I heard her stir. "Where are you going," she asked.

"I have to get to the office," I said, "I have some stuff to do." I started to twist the handle, looked over my shoulder, to see her now on her stomach, the sheet around only her legs, her ass slightly elevated, her smooth pussy on display.

"Not yet," she said lazily.

"Yes, yet, I have to run, love."

"There's something you need to do first, love," she said. I saw a small movement between her legs. She was laying on her arm, her hand, fingers, were between her legs. She was flicking her fingers, almost beckoning me to her.

"Em, I don't have time," I protested, "besides, I'm wearing a girdle, it will take me forever to get undressed and dressed again."

Emily chuckled, danced her fingers again. "You don't need to get undressed, silly, all I want is your mouth."

"Emily, I want to get to work early today," I said, hand still on the door handle.

"Hmmmmm," she said, fingers not lightly touching the folds of her pussy, tapping, gently rubbing, pinching.

"Em," I said, still, staring, unable to move.

She took a deep breath, her fingers gently, slowly, rubbing.

"Baby, that's not fair."

"Ohhhh. Hmmmm."

"Em."

"You go to work...ohhh...I can take care of myself, sweetie."

I stood, watching, mesmerized. I really, really should get going.

"Hm, yes," she said, seductively. "Oh, hmm, there, right there, yes," she gasped, fingers spreading her lips.

My hand fell from the door handle, but I did not move.

"Yes, don't stop, yes," she said a little louder, almost begging.

I took a half step towards her. Fuck, this wasn't fair. Fuck.

"Oh god, Evan, that feels so good," she moaned.

I almost fell down, I was dizzy, my legs jello.

I took a step towards the bed, but it was too late, she orgasmed from her own fingers, moaning, whimpering, calling out his name, not mine.

Evan.

Evan.

Evan.

"Have a good day at work, sissy," she finally said, dismissing me, leaving me hard, teased, needing her, not getting her.

Duality

I see this and think, of course, one is boy, one is girl, one is woman, one is sissy, one is me, one is her.

Shopping

So, I did some shopping the other day. Look what came in today's mail for me!!!

First, I bought stockings (I love stockings).

Signature RHT

Black with a gray welt:


Ivory with a brown welt:


And white with a white welt:


I also bought a nice pull up open bottom girdle:


These stockings were on sale. Originally $29.99 on sale for $17.99. I ordered three pairs:


Finally, this camisole and tap panty set was on sale. 100% silk. I bought one camisole and two pairs of tap panties.

Morning Glory

My Emily has a servant every morning.

Weekend Over

I spent it in skirts and dresses, you?

Pictures from: Sarah Klassen/Haute Design: Weekend News

Feedback

I am totally and utterly fascinated by the comments to Mother-in-Law on Fictionmania.

I do not want to focus only on the positive, that's too much self-flattery. So, I'll highlight some of both.

Negative first:

Sarah:

I haven't read your story yet - maybe I'll get around to it one of these years...why does any story have to be this loooong on Fictionmania?????? That alone turns me off. I find that when a story is tooo looong, it is full of filler....and unnecessary stuff!

Dseeker1:

You write it as though it is like getting addicted to a new drug. As I'm reading this I seem to feel like I know what will happen next. Mother in law catches him, uses verbal BS and sex to get him to submit and ultimatly dress his to show her daughter/his wife what kind of a man he is. To this point I think it is out-right cruel and can't read beyond this. I'm sure the story has some kind of happy ending but I can't think of it being very happy for all the characters.

geraldine8:

A real blockbuster this time with no breaks.
And, so it seems, a final step into Vickie Tern territory, where soulless and conniving women plot to achieve their perceived nirvana with the justification that this is what he wants/needs anyway.
Not one of the 3 protagonists has a redeeming quality, thus ensuring that any identification with one or another is marginal or hollow.
You write well and have a devoted following for your early stories; yet this is more of the same just offered up in one almost indigestible lump.

You flatter but to deceive.

Now, positive:

Michelle:

This story is simply one of the best from the best. If only there were more of Sara and the wait were not so long.....so well worth it in any event. Thanks so very, very much!

BevW:

Wonder story from a great writer. Always love to see new additions from her. This story is no exception. It moves along nicely and keeps the reader interested from start to finish.

Cynthia:

Nothing short of a masterpiece. Wonderfully crafted, beautifully written, each scene had me totally captivated. The best story of this genre by far

Interestingly, I agree with Geraldine, to some extent. Let me explain.

First, I write for an audience of one. Just one. Me. So, if readers like or dislike, that's okay with me. If Cynthia loves the story, that makes me happy. If Geraldine hates it, that's okay, too. Basically, I write as a creative outlet for fantasy that I don't know that I'd otherwise want in real life. Some of the things in my writing, I have, others are a safe way to explore what probably would be unhealthy in a relationship. So, while I love hearing from my readers and really do like to know that so many people like the stuff I write, ultimately, the writing is aimed at an audience of just one.

Thus, the second point, it is fantasy. Moreover, my stories are barely at, or even below, the level of pulp fiction. Geraldine is right that none of the characters in this story have any redeeming qualities. They were not written to have redeeming qualities. They were written as a vehicle for sexual fantasy. Let's face it, a high percentage of readers of this genre are wearing silk, satin, and lace, and, um, to be impolite, are masturbating the fuck out of themselves!

If anything, look at Sarah's comment. There is too much fluff!

Some readers think there is not enough character development, some think there is too much.

I actually LOVED Sarah's comment. It made me giggle. Sarah, here is a story for you, no fluff:

She ordered me to dress in her lingerie. She bent me over the table. She fucked me in my pussy ass until we both came all over the bed. She leaned back, laughed, as I licked up every drop of the mixture of our cum.

I don't mean to make fun of Sarah, but I know what she means. Sometimes you just want a good fucking, the hell with the foreplay (read character development.)

At the end of the day, I do not make a penny from these stories. I write them for fun, because I'm bored, to work off creative steam, to just drive my brain wild with lust.

I really do like hearing from readers, though.

I'll say this, Room and Board is my favorite. Mother-in-Law is my least favorite. I started it, got bored, realized it was lacking in this and that, but decided just to bang it out, what the hell, let a sissy or fifty read it and have their fancies tickled.

But, it is just porn. I never set out to write the next great American novel. I'm just writing pulp fiction.

And "just" does not quite give enough credit to my work, or any other author that writes this stuff. Sure, it is drivel. IT IS PORN, we know that. Pulp fiction at best.

But that's cool, girls. Sometimes we need pulp fiction. Sometimes we need James Joyce. Sometimes we need Bordeaux, sometimes we need wine from a box.

A rambling way to say, whatever my point was when I started, that I know what I'm writing.

Pulp fiction, my friends. Nothing more. Nothing less.

I really do appreciate all comments, good and bad. I really do appreciate what Geraldine is saying. Hell, she's right!

Joyce wasn't my target though.

And Mother-in-Law does not hold a candle to A Change in Our Marriage.

Which is what I'm working on next. Adding images to that, fixing a thing or two, not much. Just adding something, images, that may make a re-read of that something fun to do.

So, thanks to all of you.

Sara

More prettiness

I'm just in such a soft, pretty, feminine mood today :)




Same source: Bad Penny Blues

A pretty morning to all of you

From Bad Penny Blues

Women in Suits

In the ad, she's wearing a tie. Not a suit, but close enough, especially with the stockings. Come to think of it, this was me this morning, slipping on the stockings I was wearing under my suit.

From: Bad Penny Blues

Good Bye, 2009 and the zeros, or whatever

No time to do a "year in review" right now. Maybe later. Just happy to say that December has brought me over 18,000 page visits (that has not happened since April) and that yesterday, Dec. 30, I have over 800 visits. Wow, love you all :)

And, of course, some 159 of you follow me.

Little ol' me :)

Emily and I are getting dressed up and hitting a New Year's party this evening. Not such a huge fan of New Year's Eve. Boring, amateurish. Be lucky to still be there by 10:30.

Oh well, here's to 2010!



Source: Stolze

Guy's Night Out

A bunch of my guy friends have an annual tradition. The night before New Year's Eve, we have a "guys dinner" at a local restaurant. Drinks at 6:30; dinner at 7:00. Tonight's that night.

We're all professionals, so we all generally show up after leaving the office, still wearing suits (ties have become rare the week between Christmas and New Years.)

I'm fairly certain, I'm the only one in the group, who will be wearing a girdle, panties, and stockings under my more masculine attire. Or any lingerie, for that matter.

So is you see a group of guys at dinner tonight, see if you can guess which one is the of the "suits" is also a sissy. Which one will go home and strip out of his suit and into a bra that matches his pretty peach girdle.

Which one, when he gets home, will have a significant other who asks, in a slightly mocking tone, "how was the guy's night out?"

That one would be me :)

After the Celebration

When the guests have left, when all the presents have been open, when the holiday is over, all that's left is memories. And the mess the guests left behind.

Thus, I'll be spending today helping Emily clean. Dressed all pretty, it isn't a terrible way to spend a day.

Merry Christmas, again

I'll probably be quiet for the next few days, though I'll set up a scheduled post or two. Time to relax with family. See you all in a bit.

Black

I felt like black today. Black Cervin stockings. I feel slightly naughty.

Do You Like?

I received an email from Emily that had the title, "Do You Like?" I opened it up and found this. I sent an instant message back, which led to little Gmail chat session with her, that got me a little hot and a little ashamed.

Me (1:22 pm): Yes, she's very pretty.

Emily (1:22 pm): Duh, yea, she's pretty, but that's not what I mean.

Me: What? Blow jobs? I'm confused.

Emily: Giggle. Check your email.



Em: Get it? How about that? Do you like? Attractive and hot, no?

Me: Um, yes, she's pretty, too.

Em: Not the girl, silly! Look at them again, the other, um, thing .

Me: Emily!

Em: Come on, sweetie, just indulge me. Look at them again. I know a smelly, hairy man may not do much for most women (I've told you before women are so much prettier), but look at those cocks! Hot!

Me: Okay.

Em: Oh, you're being difficult. Watch how easy this is. Hey, you know our friend Erica? She's amazingly beautiful. Her body, her skin, are so hot, so wonderful. If I wasn't straight, I'd totally do her.

Me: Love to see that.

Emily: See, a woman can say another woman's hot, beautiful, whatever, no big deal. So, look at them again (NOT THE WOMEN). Do you like?

Me: Maybe.

Emily: Come on, you're not getting excited at all looking at those?

Me: A little.

Emily: Email.

Emily: There, how about that, TOTALLY HOT, isn't it?

Me: Yea...she is.

Emily: NOT THE WOMAN!!!

Me: You're making me blush. Okay, maybe a little.

Emily: You're boy side is such a pain sometimes. Stop. Are they hot or not?

Me: Fine. Yes.

Emily: Do you like?

Me: Fine, again, yes.

Emily: See? Was that so hard? Did time freeze because you admitted a man's (men's) cock(s) were hot?

Me: No.

Emily: Are you being honest, or are you just toying with me? Seriously. I know lots of men are icky, but, those cocks, do you really like? Do they turn you on at all?"

Me: A little.

Emily: You've got a ton of girl in you, sweetie, there's nothing wrong with being a little attracted to certain men. Look at that last picture again. She is very pretty, like you're pretty. Imagine she's you. Still like?

Me: Maybe.

Emily: A man's cock resting on your tongue, about to fully enter your mouth. Do you know how much I love that. Wetting my mouth, tasting cock.

Me: You never seem to want to...

Emily: Cock, silly, cock :)

Me: Hey!

Emily: Laugh. But this isn't about me. It's about you. I know you're part boy. I know you LOVE women. Tell me, when you're a girl, though, tell me, have you ever imagined it? Being that second woman, eyes closed, waiting, so near. That third woman, eyes closed, tasting it? Have you ever fantasized about it?

Me: Maybe

Emily: I knew it...hell, I know it. Of course you do. I know the girl in you must fantasize about it sometimes.

Me: That doesn't mean I'd do it!

Emily: But you fantasize about it. My pretty girl, you fantasize about it. Touching a cock. Tasting a cock. Licking. Sucking. You fantasize about it, don't you?

Me: Yes.

Emily: Email


Emily: I fantasize about it, too. I don't know that I'd EVER want to share you, but I fantasize about it. Helping you. Teaching you. Turned on now, sissy?

Me: Yessssssssssssss

Emily: Good! Cause when you get home tonight, you're going to take that sexual frustration out on me. With your mouth. On my pussy. While I'm telling you how hot it would be to watch you suck a cock.

Doctor, Doctor

I'm turning an age that ends in a zero soon. Ends with a zero and starts with a four. I'm pretty blah about that. It's a number. I've got a career, health (more below), a wonderful woman, and all that.

Part of celebrating the eleventh anniversary of one's twenty-ninth birthday, at least for a male (or sissy, or whatever...I have male parts) is a trip to the doctor for a physical.

So, off I went this morning. I'd planned on going, then coming home to change for work (doctor is only a mile away), so I was only going to wear track pants, a sweatshirt, etc. I went to my drawer (my boy drawer as Emily calls it) and got out a pair of boxer shorts.

"What are you doing," Emily asked me, walking into the room fastening an earring in her ear.

"I have my physical this morning; I did not want to put on a suit for that."

"No, no, I get that. I mean, what are you doing with those," she asked, pointing at the boxers in my hands.

"Emily," I groaned, knowing exactly what she meant in her tone.

She raised her eyebrows. "You don't have to wear a garter belt and stockings, for crying out loud, I wouldn't to the doctor, but you don't have to wear those, either."

"So what am I supposed to wear," I puffed, irritated at her. I knew I could do what I wanted; wearing boxer shorts was not 'forbidden' but Emily really didn't like it when I did, even if I had to for some reason or another.

Reading my mind, Em answered. "Wear whatever you want, but you now I'd prefer you in something besides those. Even cotton panties are better than those," she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust, which itself was humorous, as I know she found a masculine man in boxer shorts attractive.

"I don't have any cotton panties," I immediately retorted.

"And I'd never let you borrow a pair," she shot back just as fast.

I sighed, did the little thing I did, that facial expression, eyes closed, when Emily irritated. me.

"Do what you want," she said, putting it right back on me, turning back towards her jewelry box.

"Can I," I asked, finally.

"Can you want?"

"Can I borrow a pair of panties," I asked as humble as I could.

"You really don't have to," she said, a hint of triumph in her voice.

"Emily, may I borrow a pair of cotton panties, please?"

"Yes, you may," she said, going to her drawer, opening it, rummaging around. She turned and handed me both a pair of pink cotton panties and a matching camisole.

"Both," I asked, knowing what the answer would be.

She nodded. "I assume you'll undress alone, so I doubt you have any reason to be worried, though to be honest, do you really think anything a doctor sees really matters? You think an internist doesn't have several transgendered patients? You could go in there wearing a skirt and blouse and not raise an eyebrow."

It turns out she was right, mostly.

When I got there, the nurse escorted me to the room, handed me a gown, and told me to strip to my underwear (meaning my panties, of course, as she didn't know I was wearing a camisole, too.) She said she had to do an EKG, get my blood pressure, other vitals, then I'd finish undressing for the doctor. Thus, it sounded like no one would see.

Em was mostly right because the nurse did see more than the doctor. In doing the EKG, attaching leads here and there, the nurse rearranged the gown in a way that at least a third, maybe half of my panties were uncovered by the gown. I was on my back, looking down. I saw the pink, she obviously did, but said nothing. If anything, she was very kind to me, professional, yet extremely kind.

It was completely uneventful. The doctor saw me completely naked, no panties, did the physical. All is good. My ticker is great, blood pressure fine, weight great, etc. Prostate healthy (my first prostate exam.)

Emily asked me about that when I called her, but I'm saving that discussion, for another time.

Weekend

It was just after 1:00 in the morning, late Saturday, early Sunday. Emily was sitting on the edge of her bed, wearing only the bra, panty, and garter belt set, stockings, and heels, she'd work under her dress that evening at the small gathering we had at her place with some of her old friends.

I was getting ready for bed, too, a few minutes ahead of her. I'd already slipped my breast forms into my bra and slipped into a satin chemise and matching panties. I too had worn pretty lingerie that evening, only under slacks and a shirt.

We'd hosted a few of her high school friends who were in town over the holidays. Two other couples (she was friends with a woman of one couple, a guy of another), another old cross country friend, newly pregnant (smiles for her), without her husband (boo to him), and a single guy (Mark, a high school boy friend of Emily, a couple of years older than her.)

We all drank, ate dinner, played some stupid board games, which are actually quite fun, for adults, especially with a little alcohol involved. Em had invited all to drink what they felt like drinking, offering her guest room, sun room, and couch to anyone wishing to spend the night.

Only Mark, who'd had quite a bit of wine himself, stayed the night.

Now, I know there is nothing between Em and Mark. Well, Mark lusts for her, that's obvious, but Em did her dance with him, long before she met me, didn't want to dance for the rest of her life with him, ended it, just friends.

But that doesn't mean Em can't have her fun.

So, Emily and I were both slightly tipsy, having shared most of two bottles of wine, probably both a little horny, as we often get when we've had just that amount to drink. Emily was now mostly naked, about to take off one of her heels, when she looked up at me standing near the bed, all pretty.

"I saw the look in your eyes earlier, sweetie," she said innocently.

"Look? What do you mean?"

Emily looked down, as if she was slightly embarrassed. "When he mentioned that black party."

"Oh," I said, blushing myself.

I don't know if he said it to tease me, to tease Emily, to hit on her, because he was drunk. I don't know why he said it, I just know he said it, I heard it, and Emily saw the reaction in my eyes.

Mark was talking about some party he went to a few weeks ago, a "black party." Per the theme, everyone was to wear black. Mark's friend forgot to tell him about the theme, so he showed up wearing nothing black, feeling foolish.

Called out on it by the host, as Mark told us, sitting at one end of Emily's long table, opposite her, where the "man" of the house should sit, in the chair I was not sitting in, as I was at Emily's left hand, more like a servant, a lady in waiting, than a significant other.

"So," Mark says, loudly, "I tell him, but I do have something black, I've got a big, black cock."

The table all laughed, Emily's other guy friend decides to bust Mark's chops. "That's what all the lady's tell you, right, Mark, to make you feel good about yourself."

Without missing a beat, Mark looks down the table at Emily, a grin on his face, "I don't know, ask Emily, she was always telling me it was almost too big and I fucked her longer and harder and better than any guy she ever had."

"Mark," Emily said, with a nervous laugh. I looked at Em, who was red faced.

"I'm just saying," Mark grinned, glancing my way for an instant.

"Another girl just stroking your ego, little man," the other guy laughed, getting a winning role right then and there, letting the topic die without further comment or embarrassment.

Except to me.

Later.

"You were embarrassed?"

"Yes," I admitted, sitting down next to her on the bed.

"I'm sorry, I don't think he meant to embarrass you."

"He looked at me after he said it, I think he meant to tell me he was more man than me," I said, not thinking about what I just said.

That made Em giggle. "Well there's irony for you, no? The high school football player telling you he was more man than you, all the while you're wearing the prettiest satin lilac camisole and tap panty set under your clothes."

"Emily, you know what I mean," I said, the male part of my ego still wounded, full of pride.

"Do I? Did Mark? Do you think Mark's bed time routine was to give himself breasts? Do you think he's wearing a bra? Panties? A pretty satin nightie like you are?"

"Emily," I said, imploring her to keep her voice down.

"Cause as I remember," she said, lowering her voice, "his cock really was much too big to fit into a pair of pretty panties like you do. I could go check, just to make sure," she said, standing up facing the door.

"God, Emily," I groaned, almost shaking.

She grinned at me. An evil grin. She grinned, turned back towards me, pushed me back on the bed, got on top of me, straddling me. "You got a little excited, didn't you?"

I looked away, my non-response all the response she needed. She moved her hips, so her panty clad mound was resting on the swelling in my own panties.

"I know you, sissy, I know you were humiliated, but I know you were excited, too. I know what flashed in your mind, sissy, Mark, naked, his big cock inside me, fucking me. I know you were picturing that, weren't you?"

"Yes," I gulped.

"He was right, lover, he was the biggest man I've ever had, by far..."

"Uuuggg," I groaned. Emily had reached between us, moved aside my panties, taken me in her hand as she said this.

"And he fucked me harder and longer..." She moved me, directed me inside her, the warmth, the wetness, quickly enveloping me, surrounding me.

"Than anyone I'd ever been with before, or been with since." She pushed down on me, stopped, just sat there, unmoving. "Of course you are much bigger...up here," she smiled, hands moving to my chest, touching, massaging my fake breasts.

"Emily," I begged, trying to thrust my hips to feel movement.

"What? God, you're so fucking beautiful," she said, touching, every so slightly rocking her hips. "Is it in? I...I can't feel...I was thinking how he filled me...come on, please, I want you inside me."

"I...I am, Emily," I said, bucking slightly.

Emily leaned down, mouth to me ear. "Please, I want to feel a cock inside me, please, don't tease me," she whispered. "Please, fuck me." Emily moved her hips up and down slowly; I felt the head of my penis on the verge of, then pop out.

"Emily," I babbled, slurring her name, dizzy.

"Please," she cooed, pushing me into her again.

"Ohhhh," I gasped, the warmth once again surrounding me.

"Please, just this once, I want to feel you inside me," she breathed heavily into me ear, as if I was not in her right now, hips trying to thrust.

"Emily, I'm...."

She cut me off. "I'll go to him, sissy. You know he wants to fuck me, you see the way he looks at me. Please, I want to feel you inside me."

She was lifting her hips now, allowing me to thrust, matching, pushing down as I went up.

"Mark, my boyfriend's a sissy, he wears panties, he can't fuck me like you used to, please, Mark, please, fuck me, please."

I exploded. How could I not. I exploded, shaking everywhere, all over, exploded.

So did Emily, exploded with me.

We fell asleep like that, intertwined, sweating, messy, her former lover, sleeping down the hall, not knowing the part he played in our little escapade.