Hotel Lobby

We were in the city for a conference last week, stayed at a very nice hotel downtown, one with a large, busy lobby, always full of people drinking and laughing and gazing. On Friday night we ate a late dinner, did not get back to the hotel until 2:30 in the morning, and went right to bed, falling asleep exhausted.

On Saturday night, we saw a play and had an earlier dinner and decided to go back to the hotel and sit in the lobby and have a drink or two. Emily wanted a French Martini and said I should try the same. "Not too much a girl's drink," I laughed.

"It is," she smiled back, "perfect for both of us."

I left the couch we were sitting on, looked back at her sitting gracefully in the silk/rayon halter top black dress she was wearing and started to the bar to order our drinks. She was beautiful and I'd told her so several times that night. The dress had a slight stretch to it, with a drawstring on one side that created flattering ruching through the skirt. It also had a plunging neckline, much more revealing that what she usually wore, and any time she leaned slightly forward, her young, taut, firm braless breasts were practically on display.

It was crowded and for several minutes I tried to get one of the bartenders' attention, unsuccessfully. I don't exactly stand out in that situation, I do not have an alpha male's sense of presence. I took a breath, thought of something pretty, channeled Sara, and let her eyes seek out attention.

It worked. I doubt the bartender knew why, and it may have been coincidence, but within thirty seconds, one stopped and took my order. Finally, I got our drinks and carried them back towards the end of the lobby where she was sitting.

As I said, it was crowded-there were at least two weddings at the hotel, maybe three, and the lobby was full of well dressed people, couples, singles, groups, brides, attendants. Earlier, before dinner, we had sat in the lobby holding a mock fashion show, commenting on various outfits. Yes, yes, I'm a sissy, I know!

Walking back towards here, I caught her eye, as she was looking over the high backed chair positioned at a 90 degree angle to her towards me, though she quickly looked down. When I got to the area where she was sitting, I saw why. Seated next to her, talking to her, was a man in a dark suit, a handsome man, who did not even look up at me as I approached, so focused was he on my Emily, the pretty girl he found sitting alone, looking so much like prey.

He did not see me, and for a minute, Emily did not acknowledge me, not while he was talking. He was keeping eye contact with her, but I could see, every few seconds, his eyes darting downward, first to her chest, which was mostly covered as she was sitting straight, then to her legs, which were much less so. She had crossed her legs, was turned slightly towards him, and the hem of her dress had ridden well up her thighs. If she moved her legs even slightly, he would see right up her dress, perhaps glancing the soft, beautiful spot of her womanhood.

After an uncomfortable moment, uncomfortable yet undeniably erotic seeing him flirt with my girl, I cleared my throat, and she finally looked up at me and smiled. "I got our drinks," I said somewhat lamely, certainly weakly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were married," the man said glancing down at Emily's hand where no jewelry decorated the ring finger of her left hand.

"Married," she looked back to me, then to him, "oh, you thought...no, no," she reached over as a woman can do, patted his arm, which also touched his leg. "Oh, no, Jack, no, we're not married," she smiled at him, though it was meant for me, "he's just a friend, please, stay."

Jack looked at me and saw nothing in my face that contradicted what she'd just said, nothing in my demeanor that marked me as a threat.  How could it, it was mostly true, we were not married and we were friends. Very good friends, but still.

"Oh, that's cool," he smiled, relaxed. He understood what he wanted to understand. She was a pretty woman and the guy standing next to her holding two French martinis, the trim guy in the lavender shirt was not her husband, and implicitly (though not truthfully) was not her boyfriend. What did he see? It was obvious to me, a pretty girl, her gay friend, and an opportunity to take one of them home and send the other away alone.

"Thanks, love," Emily smiled as I set her drink down and sat next to her. I saw it on her face, she knew what he thought too. She may not meant to have implied it, but he inferred that I was gay, and therefore, not a threat to his objective, which was so obviously to fuck my girlfriend.

I sat down next to her, thought again to the persona I had channeled to get the drinks, the soft pretty girl, Sara, and knew that thinking like her would make the man my Emily was hitting on more and more convinced that I was gay.

For the next half hour I watched as Jack hit on my girlfriend, watched as she let him, toyed with him, played with him, flirted. She would touch his arm or laugh at his jokes, and I could see him, his eyes, ignoring me, focused on her. Hunger. He wanted her. Hunger. He wanted to fuck her. Hunger.

Like I wasn't there.

And she encouraged him; I could see all the non-verbal signals. She played with her hair. She looked him in the eyes, but then would look downward, submissively, a signal he seemed to love. She would touch him back, let her hand rest on his arm as it rested on her bare thigh. She leaned towards him when he talked-every time she did I saw his eyes go to her chest, to her breasts on display. 

"Would you like to come upstairs for a drink," he asked, asking her, asking Emily, not me, asking her, purposefully leaving me out. He asked it in a way that he expected her to say yes, and why wouldn't he, with the signals she was giving him.

She looked towards me and, rarely, I could not read her eyes, I could usually read her eyes. "You don't mind, do you darling, we'll meet for breakfast?"

I saw him watching, the hunger, watching as the fair maiden dismissed her courtier, her attendant, her eunuch. He knew, it was in his eyes, he knew she was his. 

Was I to say no? What was she doing? "No," I said as calmly as I could, seeing only his hand on her thigh, higher now, more possessive, claiming her.

We stood, he put his hand on her back, touching her, skin touching skin. I could not believe how beautiful she looked; I could not believe she would go to his room for a drink; I could not believe I wanted her to, wanted her to.

The elevators to his room were on the opposite side of the lobby to the elevators to our room. But she went with him, not with me. He took her hand and they walked away, towards the elevators to his room, and all I thought was what a handsome couple they made.

By the time I was in the elevator, I was swelling in the panties I was wearing. By the time I inserted the key to the hotel room door, all I could think of was him inside her. By the time I was in the room, it was all I could do to keep from touching myself until I exploded.

I undressed and slipped got out things to sleep in. A bra, breast forms, a satin baby doll, matching panties. The pretty sissy, alone while his girl was off with a man, cuckolding him.

And then I stepped out of the bathroom into the bedroom and there Emily was there sitting on the bed, legs crossed, arms crossed, staring at me.

"Emily," I questioned.

"Disappointed or relieved I'm not fucking him right now."

I looked down, face reddening.

"Or both," she laughed.

"Emily, I..."

"Get on the bed, Sara, if I'm not going to get good and fucked tonight, I'm certainly going to get good and licked."

She had told him she wanted to use the restroom, slipped away, followed me up to our room, giddy as a school girl knowing how humiliated and excited and troubled I would be. 

And she rode my face for what seemed like an hour, demanding orgasm after orgasm, knowing her sissy may not be able to fuck her for hours and hours, but that her sissy could certainly lick her over and over and over.

I did not enter her that night. Oh, she was not selfish, in the end her hand easily worked its charm. But there was no fucking. "Pretty little girls who let a man pick up their girlfriend do not get to fuck," she said as I exploded in her hand, carefully catching as much as she could which she fed me, reminding me over and over that I was her pretty sissy lover.

Cuckold Training - Learn to Obey, Fluff and Clean Up MP3

My friend Lisa from Backseam, Backseam Extreme, and Clippette asked me to review a cuckold training MP3 she has for sale on her site (that's what's up in the corner.)

You know what erotic hypnosis is, right? The practice of using hypnosis or mind control to sexuality or sexual perceptions, to reduce inhibitions (that's important here), and to induce trigger words (words you hear later that cause one to react a certain way.

So, the MP3 I reviewed is actually three parts rolled into one (each can be listened to independently) recorded by Jenny DeMilo, a pro domme who is DEFINITELY into some kink.

So, what do you do with erotic hypnosis? Well, you can do what I did, dress up in something pretty and relax and let Ms. DeMilo take you for an erotic ride.

First, the MP3 is multi-layered, with separate audio tracks playing at the same time which provides a very powerful experience. You'll hear Ms. DeMilo main track, her hypnotic voice, but underneath, there musical clues, back tracks, implant triggers, echos of instructions, and at one point (where I was dreaming of my own Emily fucking a man so I could suck his cum from her pussy) heavy breathing that was driving me wild. You'll want to listen to these MP3's with headphones and with the volume turned up slightly. All are designed to train your mind, erotically.

So, what's included? Three parts: 1) Learn to Obey, 2) Fluffing (I almost creamed my panties the first time she spoke that word), and 3) Clean Up Duty (described as where you learn to love to eat your mistress' lover's cum and to clean her up after she's been well fucked-just try reading that without your clitty growing!)

Part One, Learn to Obey (about 12:30 total) Part One has a little over 5 minutes of hypnosis, an introduction to help you learn to relax (the key to erotic hypnosis) and then, when you're relaxed, for the next 7 minutes, Ms. DeMilo helps you learn to obey your mistress (hence the title) and to be a good little cuckold. Each listening is designed to make you more and more obedient, more cuckolded. Each listening teaches you to think of your mistress' sexual pleasure, to deny yourself pleasure, to care only about your mistress' pleasure.

The line that I took away, is that you, as a slave, are there to serve your mistress' needs and to deny your own. This, my pets, is the KEY to being a good sissy, a good submissive, a good cuckold. Her pleasure is more important than your pleasure.

Ms. DeMilo instructs you to listen again and again, to learn, about the desires inside you, the desire to be a good, obedient, little cuckold. Do you know what this means, to obey? Listen, she'll teach you.

After I listened to Learning to Obey twice, all I wanted to do was to beg Emily to invite Evan to come visit so he could fuck her silly and I could be a good cuckold and lick her clean.

Part Two, Fluffing (about 17 minutes total) also begins with a longer introduction, about 8 minutes to relax you and take the listener under, hypnotically. Don't think this part of the MP3 is wasted, to some extent, it is the KEY to the whole thing...without it, the listener would not be under hypnosis and the rest of the session would be wasted.

Once relaxed, Ms. DeMilo gives you hypnotic suggestions. Um, let me be clear, these ARE NOT for the feint of heart. She's going to teach you to LOVE COCK. Well, she's training you to be a fluffer for your mistress, so, you're going to learn to obey, to get aroused, to get excited at the mere thought of sucking a cock for your mistress. That's an honor, isn't it? Hell yes, you're going to have the honor of sucking her stud's cock so he can get hard so he can fuck her. The back tracks tell you to suck cock. To suck them. Over and over and over.

What did that do to me? Again, I was home alone listening to these, so after, I had my phone in my hand ready to beg Emily not just to fuck Evan, but to let me suck his cock first, so he was as hard as he could be when he entered her. I'm hot all over again just writing this review.

Yea, erotic hypnosis is powerful stuff.

Part Three, Clean Up Duty (a little over 12 minutes total) is where you learn to do the thing EVERY cuckold dreams about but most are terrified to actually do...lick your mistress' lover's cum from her pussy. I know fluffing is pretty intense, but I still think this is the most erotic act a cuckold can do, the most submissive, the most LOVING, because while you're sucking cum from her pussy you'll be making her cum several more times and these orgasms, I know for Emily, after she's been fucked, are the most powerful orgasms. Nothing makes her cum harder than me licking cum out of her.

This last part has about 5 minutes of introduction and 7 minutes of hard core erotic hypnosis training you to eat cum from your mistress' pussy. Again you'll hear Ms. DeMilo's voice, relaxing music, back tracks, and here, the most erotic heavy breathing that sounds EXACTLY like my Emily breathing as she gets excited. Get ready to beg, BEG to clean up your mistress.

In conclusion (fuck it's hot in here), this MP3, consisting of three separate hypnotic sessions, is very hot, very intense, and not for the feint of heart. But if you want to learn to obey your wife or girlfriend, if you want to learn to fluff and love cock, and if you want to be trained to clean up the cum her lover leaves behind (or if you just want to fantasize about it), you'll really enjoy these.

Here is the link to this femdom erotic hypnosis MP3 which costs $24.99. The site has a sample so you can get a preview of Ms. DeMilo's beautiful voice and the audio quality. I will be listening to these over and over, that much I know.

I do not have a rating scale, but I can say, these are HOT AS FUCK!

An Overdue Encounter

An interesting little aspect of Emily's job led to a somewhat erotic encounter on Friday afternoon last month, something I should have written about then.

Emily's boss, Adam, is based in another city and visits here a couple of times a month, usually spending the day with her.

A couple of months ago when he was up here, Emily was all, "Adam this", "Adam that," "Adam said this," and "Adam said that." It got to the point where she said, half joking, half serious, "I'm sorry, I have not seen you for two days and all I can do is go on and on about Adam." That apology ended with a kiss, some time on the couch talking over some wine, and a wonderful foot massage (I gave the massage. Funny how that works.)

Oh, the interesting aspect? When Adam is here they usually meet at a hotel downtown, whether he is staying the night or not.

Yes, before you ask, it's innocent (well, I assume or assumed, anyway.) The hotel has meeting rooms and training rooms, and more often than not, Emily is not the only one going to the meeting.

But that doesn't mean my mind doesn't fantasize.

I mean, fuck, SHE MEETS HER BOSS AT A HOTEL a couple of times a month.

How am I supposed to keep an innocent mind with that nugget of information floating around my brain.

So, Friday afternoon. It started with Friday morning when I was in bed reading my email on my iPad and Emily walked into the bedroom from the closet (big walk-in, where all clothes are so she gets dressed in there) to pick her watch up off a side table.

"Fuck, Em," I blurted out almost dropping my iPad onto the floor.

"What? Oh, this? You like," she asked, striking a pose in the light pink lingerie--bra, garter belt, panties--and nude stockings she was wearing.

"Of course I like," I said, reaching for her with one hand which she quickly and deftly slapped away

"Stop," she laughed, "I don't have time, silly, besides I didn't wear this for you."

"Who for," I asked, half accusing, half wondering what devilish game she was playing.

"For me, silly," she said, deflating the fantasies already spinning in my pretty head. "I have an important meeting this morning, you know nice it is to feel pretty and confident, I wanted to look really sexy today." Well, I actually did, being a sissy myself.

"Oh," I said reaching for my iPad again, "I don't remember seeing anything on your calendar." We share google calendars, so I know what's on hers and vice versa.

"Last minute," she turned and walked back towards the closet, "Adam emailed me last night after you went to sleep. He came down here last night and I'm meeting him in his room at the Hyatt at 8."

Well, my mind that had shut down just a second ago was not spinning furiously.

"What," she asked when she walked back into the room putting a pearl earring into her ear.

I just looked at her, dumbfounded.

"Wait, silly, you aren't...I'm sorry, sweetie, I totally wasn't thinking. That sounded strange, didn't it. I'm wearing pretty lingerie and meeting my boss at his hotel room and you immediately start thinking it's something dirty, of course. I should have known," she shook her head and walked back to the closet. "I mean, you're not thinking I wore this for him, are you?"

Well what the fuck else would I be thinking? Seriously? As if she didn't know, as if she wasn't doing this on purpose.

"Wearing pretty lingerie because I want to look sexy for him," she called from the closet.

When she walked back into the room, she was wearing a blouse that was slightly, though not inappropriately, low cut. And a skirt that was short, above the knee. "I'm bad, aren't I?"

"Yes, Emily, how the fuck am I supposed to concentrate today?"

"Well, not by imagining me fucking Adam's brains out," she leaned over and kissed me on the forehead, "when I meet him at a hotel wearing such pretty lingerie."

"Em, you're a bitch," I said, meaning it, totally meaning it.

And her bitchiness got worse starting at about 7:50 when she texted me.

"I feel so fucking sexy!"

Then at 7:55.

"I think the valet thought I was a hooker!"

And then at 7:58:

"About to knock on his hotel room door. Mentally picturing myself as a $1,000/hour call girl. I'm so hot."

Then one more.

"Fuck, I am sooo dressed the part! I'm also soss wet, if he comes on to me, I'll never be able to say no to him, love. Never thought to bring condoms to a work meeting! Oh, well, here goes..."

I didn't hear from her the rest of the morning or over lunch or in the early afternoon. She did not answer my texts or my phone call. That's not all that unusual when she is working, but fuck, all that did was make me think of her all fucking day. Pun. Fucking day. Made me think of her fucking, all day.

At 3:00 I got a text from her. Finally.

"Are you busy this afternoon?"

"No, why," I responded, fingers trembling.

"I want you in my bed looking pretty in lingerie in 45 minutes."

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

It took twenty minutes to drive home; my secretary probably never saw me leave the office so quickly. Another twenty minutes to put on something pretty, put on some makeup, and get into bed and wait for Emily.

She walked into her bedroom and immediately got a grin on her face. "Wonder what I've been doing all day, sissy?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"I mean, besides spending the day with my boss in a hotel room?" She was starting to undress, the reverse of what I saw this morning, first taking off her blouse, slowly, as if stripping, then her skirt, allowing it to fall to the floor.

I noticed right away, I suppose being a sissy, I have an eye for that sort of thing. This morning, her panties were under her garter belt; now they were on top. She saw my eyes, saw what I saw, saw what I recognized.

"Hmmm," she giggle. "It never fails to amaze me...or turn me on...the stark contrast between a feminine sissy laying on the bed, her small, little clitty hidden away, and naked, masculine, man."

"You're mean!"

"Am I? Isn't that what you want, my pretty?"

"Yes," I admitted as I had so many times before.

"You want to hear a story?" She looked down at her waist. "About how a woman's panties get over her garter belt?"

I bite me lip. "You're not just going to get in bed, are you?"

"Oh, Sara, you know me better than that...and I know you better too." She went to her closet and came back with a pair of panties in her hand, from her hamper, I assume. "Here," she said, tossing them to me, a perfect shot, landing them on my face. "Use these on your arms." She motioned with her arms over her head, indicating I was to bind my wrists above my head to the headboard, something she had me do now and then, something I eagerly did, submissive at heart as I was.

"So the woman decides she wants to look extra pretty, nothing special, she just wants to feel pretty so she wears a garter belt and stockings and matching bra and panties...kind of like this," she models at the end of the bed. "And this woman, well, say she's got a meeting with her boss, at a hotel, completely innocent, of course, but she wears kind of a short skirt (she looks down at her skirt on the floor) and kind of a low cut blouse (she looks down at her blouse on the floor) and when she knocks on his hotel room door she has this strange feeling, suddenly imagining herself as a call girl...

"And impulsively, just before the door opens, she undoes one more button on her blouse, she knows she's being naughty, she's in a relationship, but her boss, he's so handsome, so masculine, and she just can't help it."

Emily walked over to the bed, sat down next to me, rested a hand on the smooth, shaved skin of my thigh. "Do you like my story, sweetie?"

"It...its interesting."

"Hmmm," she drew little circles on my leg. "Just wait, it gets better. See, when her boss opened the door, he hardly looked at her, he was reading some papers for their meeting, invited her in without so much as a second glance, which kind of upset her since she feels so sexy and what call girl isn't even noticed?

"So she comes in and, almost pouting, instead of sitting at the table, or even the couch, she sits down on the bed and isn't careful to tug at her skirt, doesn't care, and lets it ride up her legs knowing it will expose the tops of her stockings and knowing that her boss, when he turns around to look at her, won't be able to help but notice her legs and her breasts, from the way he's standing and the way he looks at her and flirts with her. With me so far?"

"Yea," I clear my throat, "yes."

"Finally, he looks up from his papers and I...she...can tell from the look on his face that he's surprised. He looks at my...I'm sorry...her legs and then her breasts and just stands there, mouth open. I...he mumbles...we...he says...we can't...what, she asks uncrossing and recrossing her legs seductively."

Emily climbed up onto the bed and straddled my legs and it was a good thing I was bound, loose as it was, as I would have attacked her for sure.

"Should I continue, sissy?"

"Yes, yes," I beg, humping, wanting her to continue moving on my body, continue with her story."

"Well, she sees the look on his face and knows exactly what he wants no matter what he says and she wants it to, so in a moment of boldness, says to her boss, yes, yes you can...just this once."

She moved up; her panties grazed mine, teasing me, barely touching me.

"Should I stop?"

"No, no," I practically yell.

"She excused herself and went to the bathroom and undressed; she carefully undid her garter straps so she could take off her panties, and walked back into the bedroom now feeling completely like a whore and not caring, just wanting it, cock, cock."

She leaned down towards me, her breasts touching my chest through the soft cups of my chemise. "Do you know why she wanted cock," she whispered in my ear.

"Why," I groaned.

"Do you know why she needed cock?"

"No, no, why, please Emily!"

"You know why, sissy, but you like to hear it, don't you?"

"Why, why!"

"Because she doesn't get it at home, sissy, that's why she's there pretending she's a call girl begging her boss to fuck her."

"Ohhhh," I moaned as she teased me with her "story".

"Fuck me, she begged him, fuck me, fuck me," she said, rubbing her panties on me, ensuring I was close to bursting.

"Please, Emily, please."

"Please what, sissy?"

"Please fuck me," I whimpered, wanting her, needing her.

"Oh sissy, my silly sissy. She didn't spend all morning fucking her boss, enjoying real cock, to come home to something like this."

"Em, dammit, please!"

"Oh sweetie, sweetie, when a woman's been fucked all day, she's swollen and sore and doesn't even want something small and soft inside her. What she wants is her tender, sweet, submissive sissy to lick her and pamper her and clean up after her."

As she said this she was working her way upwards so that her panty covered crotch was coming closer and closer to my face.

"Isn't that what YOU'D rather do if I spent the day getting fucked by a man?"

She lowered herself to my open mouth, what else would I want to do but lick her and taste her and submit to her?

NOTHING!

Why the Frown?

All I can think to add is, why the frown?

From: "Stockings Addiction" by GordonPym

To Some

I know this is a thing for some people, not a thing for other. It is half a thing for me (yes, total wimpy position, I know.)

But I learned today, for the first time, that Todd, the guy Emily met in Dallas, is black.

And yes, I pictured this. And got a little excited in my panties.

Helping, tenderly

A sweet, loving submissive, helping his wife disrobe for her man.

From: What Cuckie Finds Hot

I love this picture. It might inspire a story.

From: My Cuckold Tumblr

Dallas-The End

I found her waiting for me in a bar at the airport. Her flight had arrived a bit early (stunner) and I had trouble finding parking, so she'd been there for about fifteen minutes and was enjoying a glass of wine.

"Sara," she said when I walked in, calling me by my feminine name though I was not entirely feminine at the time, not in a skirt and heels, as she was. I was feminine enough, though, enough that she knew it immediately. My outfit looked androgynous, but it was feminine indeed, women's clothes on a boy, a soft, feminine boy, a mix, her love. I had worn a lilac blouse and women's black trousers. 

My hair is not this long, but with nail gel and very faint makeup, I was certainly not going to be mistaken for a masculine guy. You'll ask, so, yes, women's shoes, too, though again, not overtly so:

Under? I decided to forgo a bra; I tried and it was too obvious. But panties were a must, control type, to hide and keep the blasted cage in place, as were sheer black trouser socks, knee highs really, (saving a more appropriate outfit for when we got home.)

So that was me. Emily? She traveled in a skirt suit, similar to the one the model is wearing above.

Enough about fashion? 

Emily, fuck, Emily. She looked so hot, so pretty, so amazing, so wonderful (and a little tired) after not seeing her for three weeks.

We embraced, the embrace of friends and lovers, of lost souls.

"I missed you so much, Emily."

"I missed you, too, Sara," she whispered back in my ear.

"I...you didn't answer last night," I could not help myself, could not help.

"It was late, love, and I texted." True, she did.

"What...what happened," I blurted out, already swelling in the stupid cage.

"Sara, Sara," she put her hand up, silencing me. "This isn't the time or place, love."

I bit my lip; she was right, of course she was right.

"You look very nice," she said, motioning me to sit while she finished her drink, implicitly approving the clothing I'd worn. 

"Thank you, I...I wanted to wear something, um, cute." I leaned forward so as to whisper, "I wanted to be feminine and I didn't want to wear any boy clothes."

She reached across the table, touched my hand. "You felt more feminine while I was gone, I appreciate the effort thought, sweetie, I dressed up for you, too.

"You look amazing, Emily, I mean, wow."

"I feel like I gained ten pounds."

"Well, you must have checked that piece of luggage because you look amazing."

"I don't know, but I'm going on a crash diet."

"Tomorrow, I hope, I'm planning dinner."

"Are you?"

"Yes, I thought I'd make, I've been planning, a five course meal, small dishes, so you could unpack and unwind as I cooked."

"I think that's a great idea."

And so, to speed ahead a bit, I cooked, she unpacked, we ate in between. I stayed locked, and her lips stayed sealed about Dallas.

I have to mention, of course, that Sara cooked. Not androgynous Sara, but real Sara. Skirt replaced trousers, stockings replaced socks, heels replaced low shoes.

As we sat down to the last course, Emily sat across from me and I asked once again.

"So, last night?"

"After dinner, Sara, after dinner."

*****

After dinner.

After dinner, Emily said she wanted to freshen up from traveling, from unpacking. "Why don't you put on something pretty, lover, light some candles, pour some wine, while I take a shower and do the same."

It was becoming difficult to go on, the swelling, the anticipation, the need to know, but I did.

And so I dressed in pretty lingerie for my lover, feminine, soft, the opposite of him, of Todd, of the once she was flirting and touching and who was...

Had to stop thinking, had to stop swelling.

And then Emily walked out of the bathroom and all the thoughts and anticipation came crashing down on me the second I saw what she was wearing. 

It wasn't the robe, the silver satin with lace lining. It was pretty, but that wasn't it, that wasn't what drove me to the edge of sanity.

It was what was underneath, the sheer bra and panty set, the sheer bra and panty set she said she was wearing the other day when she was with Todd, the sheer bra and panty set he saw her in, touched her in, the sheer lingerie that were the only thing between her body and his cock, that she got wet in, that she touched him with, that she teased him with, that she made him cum on, that sheer bra and panty set.

That's what I saw as she tied her robe closed and walked slowly to the bed.

"Hon, before we talk about Dallas, we need to talk about the cage."

"What about the cage?"

"I want you to wear it for one more day."

"EMILY! I have not seen you for THREE WEEKS, I want to..."

"Now hear me out, Sara," she said. "I know, I know, I want to make love, too, believe me, I do. You've been so feminine these three weeks and I've missed that and, well, I want to make love to you, to that part of you, to Sara."

"But Em, I...I want to," I looked down, ashamed, "I want to cum."

"As Sara."

"Please, Emily." Oddly, for the first time, I was not swollen, I mean, I should be, but I wasn't."

She reached out, touched my leg though the stockings I had on. "Don't let the boy part of you out tonight, Sara, tonight I need a woman."

I wanted out, I wanted out, I wanted out!!!!

She scooted up on the bed and her robe came partially open, exposing her panties and my eyes were drawn to them, to the sheerness, and naughty things quickly ran through my mind.

"You've always liked these panties, haven't you?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"He liked them, too."

I sucked in a breath, rapid, unconscious, sucked it in as the swelling began again, immediate, powerful, trapped.

"Yes, Sara, these are the ones I wore on my date last week."

"Last night, did you...did you..."

"He came over last night, Sara, he came over and we had a nice quite dinner and some wine."

My eyes remained on her panties, staring not at her womanhood beneath, but the panties themselves. "What did you do," I managed to ask.

"Sara?"

"Huh," I asked, eyes fixated on the sheer cloth covering her.

"I missed your mouth, lover."

"Hgh."

"Nobody ever worships my body like you do."

"What...what did you do last night," I asked again, still looking down.

"Not much, we ate and talked about the training and sat on the couch...messed around a little..."

The sharp intake or breath. Crap, that was from me. And I still would not look up at her, I was still focused on the panties.

"Did you miss licking me, Sara."

"Ohhhh," I gasped yet again, just melting, just putty. 

"Did you miss your tongue teasing me through my panties?"

"Yes." A squeak, a mouse, hardly audible. "Messed...messed around?"

"Like a man and a woman Sara."

"Did you...did you..."

She interrupted me. "I want your tongue, Sara, fuck, even when he was touching me, I thought of your tongue."

"Did you..."

"Stop staring, Sara, lick me, lick me."

I was shaking, did she fuck him, that's what I wanted to ask, did she?

"Emily," I moaned, on my hands and knees, crawling towards her, up her legs, towards her panties. She was right, she always was, I not only liked licking her, I loved licking her, I loved licking her panties, nothing made me hotter than tasting her through silk or satin or nylon.

I was closer; I could smell her, the wetness now. Not always before I touched her or played with her, but not, obvious, the musk, the wetness, the excitement.

"Sara, look at me."

I paused, mouth only inches from her, the pain in my groin overwhelmed by my lust for her, looked up in her eyes. "What," I asked, hardly able to resist moving the last few inches.

"I did not wash them."

Our eyes locked. She stared at me, saw the understanding in my face, the silent communication. She did not wash them since last week, since her date, since she was on top of Todd, since she teased him, since he made her cum, since she returned the favor.

She did not wash them.

The musk wasn't just her, it was him, too, his scent, his body, his fluids. 

His cum.

She did not wash them and by asking me, by telling me, she wanted me to lick her though her panties, was telling me to lick him, too. 

"You...you don't have to..."

I pushed myself forward, could not help, could not resist, had to, needed to, wanted to, tongue out, mouth open, desperate.

Didn't have to? Of course I didn't have to, but the thing was I could not resist. After three weeks, night after night of thinking about her, day after day of chastity, feminized almost constantly, I wanted her.

And the dirty little secret?

I wanted him, too. 

Cum. 

Todd's cum was on her panties.

A week old to be sure, barely visible, but there. 

In texture, the slight crust. In smell, the musk.

I dove it.

And she rewarded me with an immediate shake, an immediate spasm, immediate pleasure.

I dove in an licked.

She was right, generally, day to day, I LOVED licking her through her panties. I started, often, love making with kisses and touching and massaging, but when I finally got there, when foreplay got serious, I would gently, lightly, then passionately, lick her, through her panties.

This was no different.

Except I started there.

Except her panties were soiled with him.

"We messed around," she whispered.

"Oh, Emily," I moaned, licking more vigorously. Licking her. Licking him.

Yes, I was ashamed of what I was doing.

But that only made it more erotic, more compelling.

She talked, I licked.

"We messed around, but it isn't the same as with you, Sara."

"I know," I licked, I looked up.

"He touched me and all I could think about was you."

She talked, I licked, she shuddered.

"It was just like last Friday, my soft, sweet, lover, we were on my couch drinking wine."

Painting a mental picture.

"I wanted to...to...I told him I'd be right back, went to go get us each another glass of wine. But I stopped by my bedroom first, put on that cranberry babydoll you bought for me, brought the wine back wearing just that. 

I was shaking, too, imagining her easily in the lingerie. The lingerie I'd bought for her. 

"I think his tongue fell out of his mouth, lover."

Of course it would, she was beautiful. I'd seen her in that very lingerie and she was beautiful.

"Fuck, Emily, he said. I giggled. Fuck, indeed. His eyes were burning into me and, and, having a man stare at me was so, god, felt so good, you understand, Sara? You're the love of my life, but sometimes I, sometimes a man..."

"Emily," I shook, licking her stomach, her panties, her thighs.

"You're safe and soft and sweet and perfect, but not a man."

"Emily," I shook again. "Please, did you...did you..."

"He wasn't like you at all. He was rough and awkward, different. Men are so...so different."

"Did you?"

"You use your mouth, he used his hands. He knew that. How to...how to make me," she bit her lip. "Cum."

"Ohhhhhhhh." I could not help it, I licked her again, through the panties. Again. Wet now, from her, from my mouth, wet, her, wet, him.

"Off, Sara, off, tongue."

I obliged, slipped the panties off her. If I wasn't locked up, I don't know that I could have used my mouth again, that boy part of me, that little part that was a boy, just may have taken over. 

But I was locked up. So I licked her again, bare now, my tongue directly on her, making her orgasm in seconds.

"Did you," I asked again.

"I was on top of him, he had wasted no time undressing this time. On top of him, his cock, fuck, his cock, Sara, his cock. Sliding over me, cock, thinking of you, feeling his cock. He wanted me so badly, Sara, he wanted to fuck me."

"Emily," I was dizzy, the room spinning.  

"The cabinet in the garage, under the plastic bin on the top on the left."

"What," I asked. "What?"

"The key, Sara."

"What?"

"He made me cum again. I just rubbed on his cock and he made me cum again."

I was panting, hardly able to breath, panting, licking, confined. "Emily, did he..."

"The key, under the bin."

"Key?"

"To the cage, Sara. That's where I hid it."

The key. That key.

"Get it, Sara, get it. Get it now."

I was torn. I wanted to shout, did you fuck him, but the key, she was offering me the key, now. She said I had to wait, but here it was, I could grasp it, here it was, release, orgasm, everything.

"I..." The garage. I was only in lingerie. Stockings. The garage. The cold garage.

"Are...are you sure."

"Get the key. Now. Please, now."

I needed no more. I quickly got up, to put on slippers to go the garage. While getting slippers, I saw her reach for the top drawer of her night stand, open it, pull out a vibrator. I paused in the doorway, watched her move it between her legs, heard it start. Fuck, oh fuck, fuck.

Watched her touch herself.

"Key, Sara," she hissed.

Fuck.

Her garage, as always, was fucking freezing. I went to the cabinet, opened it, rummaged around. Key, where was the key? Which bin?  Yes, top. Top shelf, left.

There, there it was, fuck, there it was. Oh fuck, three weeks, there it was.

I took it, looked down. Irony, for the first time since I saw here, I was not swollen. The cold garage, the focus on finding the key, I was small, now, shrunken. I suppose I should have brought the key back to her, but I was afraid I'd swell again the second I saw her. In fact, I thought of her, the vibrator, and felt it already.

I hesitated no more and unlocked the lock and took off the horrid cage.

The response was immediate, the flow of blood, the freedom. 

The swelling was immediate.

And urges irresistible.  

I touched myself.

STOP!

My brain screamed.

STOP!

Yes, yes, stop.

I just put it all in the cabinet. The key, the lock, the cage, the other parts to it. All of it.

I put it back and practically ran back into the house, ran back to her.

She was fucking herself with the vibrator. She heard me, continued.

"I wanted to him to fuck me," she said when she sensed me in the doorway.

"Did he, Emily, did he?"

She did not answer, could not, she was too close, fucking herself, too close to orgasm. The spasms, the shaking, the moaning. 

Too close.

I was on the bed, watching, vibrator as substitute for cock. In and out. Seeing the vibrator thinking of his cock.

I licked. 

I licked her as she fucked herself.

And when she took it out of herself and touched her clit with it, I licked again. The vibrator this time.

I licked it and opened my mouth and took it in like a woman would a cock.

The vibrator covered with her, tasting of her.

Sucked it.

Like a cock.

She saw, she watched, she shook.

She watched her lover, her sissy, eagerly suck the vibrator like a woman would a cock.

"Do you really want to know, Sara?"

I looked up, vibrator/cock in my mouth.

"Do you really want to know if he fucked me?"

I tasted her. Imagined him. Tasted her, imagined his cock in my mouth, wet with her, imagined licking her cum off his cock as I was now licking her cum off the vibrator.

"What if he didn't? What if he did?"

Did I want to know? She fucked Evan, I'm sure, right? But did she really? Did she fuck Todd, too? Did I want to know, for sure? Would I rather imagine it every day? Wouldn't the fantasy be more powerful?

What if she didn't? Would that make it better or worse? Would I beg her to do it? Did she want to?

This all ran through my mind in an instant. Fantasy or reality? What was the reality?

I was torn. Did I want to know?

A second instant passed.

Cock still in my mouth, tasting her, looking at her.

"I want you inside me."

I think by hesitating I answered her question. I don't think I did want to know. Fuck, I think I liked the tease more than anything else. And she knew. She knew all along.

I don't know if she fucked him or not. I know she messed around with him.

Messed around quite a bit.

But did she fuck him?

Did she feel his cock inside her?

I wanted her to, or at least, I thought I wanted her to.

Yes, I wanted to say yes, to have her say yes, that yes, she fucked him.

Didn't I?

But I hesitated and now she said she wanted to feel me inside her.

Three weeks in chastity.

Three weeks of torment.

Three weeks without control of my own orgasm.

And now she wanted me inside her.

Suddenly I was. 

In a fluid movement, I was on top of her, kissing her, inside her, the wet, warmth, familiar feeling of the love of my life.

It took mere seconds. I knew it would, wished it were different.

But I made her cum over and over not by being inside her like a man, but by making love to her like a woman.

I did not want to be her man, I could not be her man.

Maybe he did fuck her, I assume he did, but I did not know.

Seconds, mere seconds.

And explosion.

No hope of holding back.

"I love you so much, Sara," she whispered in my ear as the waves crashed around me, her whisper making them more powerful and more erotic and full of love and emotion.

I don't know, the question was not answered.

I don't know.

I think, but I don't know.

I think he fucked her, but I don't know.

He may not have, but I don't know.

"I love you, Emily. I love you."

Dallas-Date Night

I could finally post this.  It was hard to do. And I would not change any of it.

Anything.

*****


"How are you," I asked her when my iPhone, sitting in the pillow next to me rang at 2:30 in the morning, sitting in the place that at that time, under normal circumstances, in a Friday night/Saturday morning, would be occupied by her pretty head, her soft hair.

2:30 in the morning, seeing her picture on my phone, seeing the time, my stomach ached, my locked clit ached, everything suddenly ached, so late, so very late.

"I'm tired," was her response, so funny, almost a stock response by now, so true, too, given the time, given the day, what working person isn't tired at that hour on a Friday night? I was; I'd been in bed for hours.

"How was your…your thing," I asked, unable to quite bring myself to use the word for what it actually was, unable to quite call it a date, though the discretion was for naught.

"Afraid to call a spade a spade, love?"

"What do you mean," I asked, sleep still clouding my brain.

"My date. You mean to ask how was my date."

"Yes," I admitted, "if that's what it was."

"It was, for all practical purposes.

"How was your date," I finally spoke, crossing my legs, feeling the satin chemise I was wearing rustle around my legs, around my swelling, trapped, locked midsection, the reminder of what I gave her, what she owned.

"It was nice; I had a nice time. Of course I couldn't help thinking of you the whole time, Sara. You know how much that turns me on? Sara, home and in chastity and…"

"You're a tease, Emily."

"Funny, that's what he called, me, too."

"Fuck, you don't mess around, do you?"

"What do you mean, love?"

"I mean, fuck, it's 2:30 in the morning and you're calling so late and I just assumed that you…you were…you know…naughty…and you're just a tease."

"Oh, oh sweetie, teasing doesn't mean no fun."

So she told me about her evening, dinner, the play they saw, what they ate, the wine, how charming Todd was, how unlike me, and how she so much prefers the company of her best friend.

"Not that I don't appreciate a man's attention, Sara, don't get me wrong."

"You prefer you're sissy, though."

"Of course I do, love, of course I do. But I love that you let me, you know, have a little freedom now and than. No, that's not quite right, is it. You want me to have a little freedom now and then, I love that it gets you so excited, especially since you're in that little chastity cage."

"Uugh," I grunted.

"Excited, sweetie?"

"Yes, Emily, of course I'm excited, you know how hot this is. You know how agonizing this is…"

"Yet how much you love it."

"Yes."

"How is it, in chastity. I'm surprised you have not begged me to let you unlock yourself."

"It's agony, Emily. Every time I think about you, not just, you know, on a date, every time I think about you at all I start to grow and I miss you and I miss touching you and, ugh, it's so tight!"

"Well maybe I shouldn't tease you any more, then."

"Tease me how?"

"Well if you get all hot and bothered just talking to me, I'm not sure you want to hear any more about my date."

I did not say anything, I just lay there, breathing, heavily, scared to ask, scared to know, yet wanting to, so badly, wanting, no, needing.

"There was more than just dinner and a show?"

"Well he was such a gentleman all night, Sara, I didn't want to be rude at the end of the date and not invite him in for a drink."

"Emily."

"We were just sitting on the couch, having a glass of wine, and, well, I was thinking about you of all things, thinking how much I missed you and how you were probably thinking of me and I know it's weird, but it was making me so fucking horny."

"Fuck, Emily, do you know how horny I was all night?"

"I can imagine, love. And I was so horny for YOU and I was thinking of you all horny and all soft and pretty and my little feminine sissy," she was cooing, practically dripping with sexuality.

"I was thinking of you and horny and that's just when he, Todd, reached over and put his hand on my leg, just then, Sara, he touched my leg, my thigh, just below the hem of my skirt which had gotten a little high, right on my nylons and I think my insides just exploded, Sara, I almost had an orgasm just from his hand on my thigh."

"Emily," I begged, begged her to stop telling me, to tell me more, for everything.

"I'm in a relationship, you know, I told him, I had to tell him Sara, I owe that to, well, to you."

"I know, Emily."

"Oh, he said, moving his hand right away. He looked at me. I'm sorry, I thought that you…I stopped him, Sara. No, Todd, I'm in a relationship with someone I love more than anything…"

I beamed with pride at her words.

"I didn't mean you had to move your hand away, Todd, that felt, it felt nice, I just mean that, well, I'm in a relationship and…I don't know how far…I mean, if I say stop, well, this is like a first date and. He told me he understood, I think he got it, that he probably wasn't going to hit a home run but that didn't mean he couldn't hope for first or second base."

"Did he touch you again," I asked.

"His hand was back there in a second, on my thigh again, just a little higher, almost to the top of my stocking, which he didn't know I was wearing, yet. I'm sorry, Sara, are you sure you want to hear this," she asked, almost laughing, "I mean, it won't make you too jealous, will it? Or too, um, swollen."

"Go on," I gasped, touching my cage, massaging the outside, fingering just below, like a girl, like a girl.

"He was rubbing my thigh and leaned over and tried to kiss me and, you know how I feel about that, not on the mouth, Todd, I told him, that's…that's not for you. He looked disappointed. I said no kissing my mouth, I didn't say you couldn't lick my neck, I giggled, so he did and fuck, his mouth was so hot and his hand was squeezing my thigh and I…I wanted to feel it, Sara, I had to, and I'm sorry you can't not now, I'm sorry you're locked up and you can't but I had to. I reached over and touched him, and fuck, he was."

She took a deep breath.

"He was so fucking hard, Sara. I so much love you, Sara and your soft body, feminine and pretty, but fuck he was so hard, not huge or anything, but so hard. And I'm so ashamed, Sara, but I was so wet, so fucking wet."

"I wish you were here, Emily."

"What's second base, Sara? Fondling my breasts? He skipped first base and went right to second."

I was furiously but without result, rubbing myself. It only made me hurt and put me into agony and I could not help it.

"And all I could do was rub his cock, Sara, rub that wonderful cock while he touched me and, I could see it in his eyes, think about fucking me."

"Emily, I…"

"I jumped, when he touched me, I jumped, so did he. He figured out I was wearing stockings when his hand went under my skirt and he jumped, just a little, excitement, and moved fast, and just like that, his hand was touching my panties, I don't think he expected or meant to do that, just yet, touching my panties and I gasped. I think he was kind of unsure but when I gasped he knew how wet I was, how horny. He asked me if he should stop, wasn't that sweet of him, he wanted to know if he should stop."

"What'd you tell him," I asked, hoping she said stop, hoping he didn't.

"What'd I tell him, lover?" She laughed. "I was so fucking horny, Sara, I let go of his cock, I think I disappointed him just for a second, lifted my shirt over my head and I told him, don't you dare stop."

I pictured it, mentally, Emily on the couch, just a bra covering her top, her skirt practically bunched around her waist, close to naked. What base was that? Second? Third?

She filed the silence. "You didn't want me to tell him to stop, did you, Sara?"

"No," I whispered.

"It would have been so unfair, I mean, he was so hard and I was so horny and his fingers felt soooo good rubbing me through my panties and I wanted to cum so badly, Sara, sooooo badly. I needed to cum, I needed to."

"You needed to cum," I asked, half shocked, half desperate to cum myself.

"I know, I know, it seems unfair, doesn't it, you must want to cum so badly yourself."

"Yes, Emily, it's horrible."

"I know, love, I know."

She knew? How could she possibly know? How? How?

How tight the cage was, how I thought about her constantly, how I wanted it, wanted her, wanted anything. I think I missed her more than she missed me, I felt it, though maybe it was just in her own way, mine was different.

She took off her skirt, which she said prompted him to take off his pants and his shirt so they were sitting on her couch, half naked, he in just boxer short and she in her bra and panties and stockings.

I was afraid to keep listening to her, it hurt, a little emotionally, but in a way, not really. Wasn't this everything I fantasized about? All the time? Isn't this what cuckolding was? I felt guilty because I did not want her to stop.

I did not want her to stop telling me, I did not want her to stop with him.

"I was so wet, Sara, so wet, he was rubbing me through the front of my panties and I was so wet and horny and you know why?"

"Because he was cute," I asked.

"More, Sara, I was so wet because I was thinking of you and how much I missed you and you, sitting home, locked up, I was thinking of you thinking of me and it made me sooooo wet."

"Oh, Emily, you're getting me so hot."

"I know, Sara, I know. And you know what else made me wet? Thinking of you there with us, watching. Licking and kissing me, licking my feet and my legs while he fingered me."

I would have cum right then and there if not for the cage, I would have cum immediately.

"I wanted to cum, Sara, I needed to. I pushed him down on the couch and climbed on top of him and I was rubbing on him, at first just my panties through his boxer short, but he popped out and I was rubbing on his cock.

"Ohhhh," I gasped.

"That's right, Sara, on his cock."

I was breathing heavily, rubbing what I could rub, not enough, not enough. It wasn't enough.

"You can't cum, Sara, you know that."

"I want to, Emily, do you know how much I want to?"

"You can't lover, you can't."

"Please, Emily."

"I could, though, and I wanted to, too, I was trying, I was rubbing my panties up and down his cock, they were so wet, I was so wet. I had on that cream sheer set I have, you know the one…"

I did, fuck did I. Sheer? There was nothing, just a thin layer, a thin, transparent layer between him and her. Nothing. I've licked her through those panties, tasted her, wet, she practically flowed through them.

She would be all over him, all over his cock.

"I was about to cum, Sara, I was just about to cum, Sara. I felt him move my panties aside just as I slid down his cock and it rubbed my clit the whole way and I started to shake and my teeth were chattering and and and…he rubbed me again and I was shaking more, fuck, and he…he was…his cock was pressed against me…I was cumming, I was shaking, fuck, I was so…I wanted him inside me, Sara, I wanted his cock inside me. I was shaking in orgasm and I wanted his cock inside me, fucking me."

OH MY GOD SHE FUCKED HIM!

"Wait, Todd."

"What? What," I demanded.

"Wait, I told him to wait. I wanted his cock inside me sooooo badly but I told him to wait. What, he asked. Wait, Todd, wait."

What?

"I…I can't…I can't fuck you."

Oh, he said, disappointed, confused. I thought…

"No, you…it's okay…I just can't…I want to, but…

"He had such a hurt look on his face, but he stopped. He could have shoved it in me, Sara, he could have shoved his cock into me and I…I don't think I could have said stop, again, I think if he did I would have let him fuck me."

"Hmmmmm," was all I could manage, a grunt, a hum, a painful frustration picturing my love, picturing Emily, a man's cock touching her, poised to press into her.

"He started to move, hurt, disappointed. No. I said no. Don't move. No."

What, he asked.

"I leaned over and whispered in his ear. You made me cum, Todd, my turn."

She said she moved her panties back over her pussy, not that it mattered much, she was wet, he was wet, the panties were wet.

"It isn't that I don't want to fuck you, Todd, I just can't."

It's okay, he said.

"I want to make you cum, Todd."

I don't know how I stayed conscious. She said she rubbed him, up and down his cock, still orgasmic herself, whispering in his ear, "cum on my panties, cum on my pussy."

She said he finally exploded, shaking, exploded all over her, all over her panties, all over her.

Everywhere, cum everywhere.

"They are right here, Sara, the panties, they are such a mess. Maybe you can wash them for me when I get home, I think you'd like that?"

"Yes, fuck, yes," I pictured myself in a maid's uniform, washing Emily's soiled panties in the sink, hand washing the cum out of them.

"I wanted to fuck him, Sara."

"I know," I was shaking, overwhelmed.

"I wanted to, Sara."

"I know. I know."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, fuck, yes, I…I want to cum, too, Emily."

"A week, Sara, a week."