Tuesday, October 6, 2015


"Who...who the hell are you?" I asked, stunned to see someone inside my house when I got home from work. "How the hell did you get in here?" In fact, I was so stunned, it barely registered that the woman standing in front of me was one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen.

"Metropolitan police," she said, "and with a warrant for your arrest."

I looked at her, the uniform, the sexy uniform. "A...arrest? For...for what? Wait a minute, you're not really a cop...who put you up to this? Jason?"

"Oh, we're cops," a voice behind me said. I turned, saw a second beautiful woman behind me holding a night stick and a badge. A real badge.

"Now put your hands behind your back, faggot," the first one said.

For a moment I thought she said 'maggot' but realized she'd said 'faggot' instead. "You...you can't talk to me like that, I...I have rights," I said, dumbfounded.

"We'll talk to you however we want, faggot," the second said tapping her hand with the night stick. "Little faggots like you don't have rights."

"What...what the hell kind of cop are you? I...I didn't do anything."

"Really, faggot," the first said? "So you deny that on September 29, 2015 you sent a text message to an Jennifer Twain asking her out on a date?"

"Jennifer...what? No, what the hell does that have to do anything?"

"You don't deny it? You sent the text?"

"No...I mean, no I don't deny it, yes I sent the text, so what?"

The woman behind me moved quickly for a woman in heels, had my hands behind my back and cuffed before I realized what she was doing. "Hey, you can't do that," I yelped, "I...I didn't do anything."

"Really...Annabelle," the first officer said.

The blood in my veins suddenly went cold. "What...what did you call me?"

"Annabelle...that's your online name, isn't it? Your girl name?"

"I...what? No," I lied unconvincingly.

"You know sissies are prohibited from dating, faggot," the officer behind me said.

"And you know sissies are prohibited from ever putting their little penis inside a woman," the officer in front said, grabbing my crotch.

"I...I didn't...I wasn't going to...I...I just wanted to have a drink with her."

"I'm going to read you your lack of rights, statement, faggot. You don't have the right to remain silent, sissy. Everything will be used against you in a court of law. You don't have the right to an attorney present during any questioning or inspection."

"What...where are you taking me," I asked as they pushed me towards the door, "what are you doing?"

"You know the punishment, sissy, a first time offense is a mandatory six months in chastity."

"But...but I never...I never touched her."

"Faggot, that's a mandatory year. Unless you tried to put that little thing inside her, that's permanent chastity."

"Really," the other woman said, "when will you little sissy faggots ever learn, women want men, not sissies. Ever."


Looking at a calendar, it dawned on me Emily and I are coming up on a six month anniversary.

It's been six months since I've been inside her.

It's been six months since she's touched my penis.

It's been six months since I've been permitted to squirt while she's touching me.

Six months.

The longest we've ever gone.

Do I miss it? Yes, of course. But I'd change nothing. Nothing.

I know I haven't update the personal in some time (I get into that rut when I'm working on a story, that's where I channel everything).

All goes well (needless to say, it hasn't been six months since Emily's had something...someone...inside her...that's counted in days...not weeks, not months, but days).

So I have to finish my story so I can devote a little more to posting about Emily and I. I know.

Friday, October 2, 2015


"Let's be honest," my wife said, "at some point you realized 'girls night out' didn't mean I was just going to dinner with some of my girlfriends, right?"

"I...I never thought about it," I stammered, face red.

"I mean, the sexy clothes...the late nights...the funny taste when I got home and pulled your face between my legs...what did you think?"

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

"You knew," she said, "you've known for months...since that night last October when I wore stockings."

"I...I thought..."

"You thought I fucked a guy," she said looking me right in the eye. "That's why you were so aggressive that night, that's why you spent hours licking me."

"M...Monica," I whispered.

"Do you want me to stay home tonight? Is that what you want?"

"Monica," I repeated.

"Or do you want me to go out and do what I do? Do you want me to go out and come home, late? Do you want to pretend you're asleep so I have to 'wake you up' and tell you to lick me?"

"Monica, please," I begged.

"I'm not lying anymore," she said. "If I go out, when I get home, I'm going to demand you lick me...and lick the mess he left for you. So...stay or go?"

I swallowed, caught, cornered. "What...what time will you be home?" I asked softly, weakly.

"Late," she smiled, "very late. Put I promise, no matter how late, I'll wake like I always do."

Saturday, September 5, 2015

Wedding Ring

"You...you're not wearing your wedding rings," her husband said in his soft voice.

"Honey, I know you know what 'girls night out' really means, do we really have to go through the charade?"

"I...don't know what you mean," he said blushing.

"Well if you don't know what I mean, sweetie, I guess when I get home I'll be really quite when I get home so you don't have to wake up and beg me to lick my pussy."

"No," he protested much too vehemently.

"So you want me to wake you up when I get home?"

"Yes, please," he said.

"And you want to lick my pussy?"

He nodded, blushed. "Yes."

"So you know, then, 'girls night out' really means 'hot date with my boyfriend' right?"

"Yes," he said in barely a whisper.

Friday, September 4, 2015

"I know the longer you wear the cage the worse you want it off, but the ironic thing is, the longer you wear it, the less I want to unlock you."


Emily told me once that there's the moment, when he's on top of her, she can feel his weight, his breath, she can feel his thrusting change, become more urgent, that she forgets everything. Work. Friends. Family. Even me.

For that moment, there's nothing in the world, nothing, but his cock thrusting in and out of her, filling her, possessing her.

The moment lasts, sometimes for several minutes, and when it starts, she surrenders, she's his, and she wants it to go on forever.

She said the moment's most powerful at the last second, the last thrust before he explodes, when he pushes in deeper than he has the entire time, holds it there, and his cum fills her.

For in that moment, there's only him.

For in that moment, she's his.

For in that moment, as his cum fills her, as his cock pulsates inside her, her bliss is total.

Cuckolding works best when a woman's lover and husband both know and accept their proper place in her life.

Her lover's place:

Her husband's place:

Friday, August 28, 2015

Blow Jobs

Typical, beta husband:

"Please, honey, you haven't done that in like a year," he begs his wife, his voice shaking.

"You know I don't like to give blow jobs," she says, "they're demeaning."

"But...but I like it."

"Listen, I'm kind of tired, maybe next weekend we can drink some wine and maybe fool around a little...but not that."

Typical, alpha man:

Says nothing, watches her walk into the room, wearing just a garter belt, stockings, and heels, spreads his legs, points to the ground. "Kneel and crawl," he says.

She feels a tingling between her legs, a sensation she never felt with her husband. "But..." she starts to say.

"Now beg," he orders her.

"Beg?" she asks shocked.

"Beg," he repeats.

She kneels, for a split second thinks of her husband, thinks of him begging her to do this, realizes the difference between her husband and her lover, what makes a man, a real man. "Please, Sir, may I suck your cock."

Pretty Little Lies

"We're just friends"

How many wimpy guys hear that from their wives or girlfriends when they ask about some guy at work she's spending so much time with?

"He's harmless, he flirts with everyone."

Of course he does, because he wants to sleep with every pretty girl, including your wife.

"It's just a work thing, you'd be like a third wheel."

Yea, because all women go to dinner with cute co-workers.

"It was just a kiss, it didn't mean anything."

No, it meant everything because it's the start to everything.

The Cuddlezone

"I'm sorry," she giggled, "I...I don't mean to laugh, it's just...it's so small."

"I just showered," he protested, "there...there's shrinkage." She giggled again. "What?" he demanded.

"Sorry," she apologized again, "I just...I've been with a bunch of guys and none of them ever had that problem before. Listen, I'm getting tired, maybe we could just, you know, cuddle."

Friday, August 21, 2015

Date Night Means:

No bra

No wedding ring

No condom

No husband

No worries

Tuesday, August 18, 2015


"Wait, wait, what do you mean you don't have the key," I asked in a panic.

"Just that," my wife said, "I don't have the key. Either key."

"Where...where are the keys," I demanded.

"I left them at the office," she said sheepishly.

"Well go get them," I said. "Dammit, what's the matter with you."

"Watch that tone," she snapped. "And I can't."

"Why not?"

"We got an email on Thursday, they're replacing the emergency generator, so there's no power until starting today at five, through the weekend, you're going to have to stay locked up till Monday."

"Jessica, but...wait, you...your mother's coming for dinner. Fuck, Jess, you have to call her."

She grinned, and suddenly I got it.

Monday, August 17, 2015

“Girls trip” to Jamaica


"Well I know it hurts, honey, but that's kind of the whole point of the chastity cage, isn't it? I mean, to train you not to swell when you see a pretty woman."

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Perfect Threesome


She promised she'd unlock you, she promised she'd let you fuck her, and she promised she'd let you cum.

But she NEVER said you were allowed inside her pussy, sissy, never. 

Because you're not.