Friday, July 25, 2014

Small and feminized, just how a sissy husband should be.

You see why a sissy should always be in chastity? Focus, girls, focus.

When I imagine Emily doing this, it's with a gusto, with enthusiasm, that I'm unfamiliar with

I joked about this once, said something to her like, "how would you know, you've never swallowed."

She shot back, without thinking, "No, I've just never swallowed you."



"You awake," her voice whispered.

"Yes," I said; my back was to her, she scooted towards me, put her arm around me, touched me through my satin slip.

"Can't sleep?"

"I...I don't know."

"It's on your mind, isn't it?"

"Of course," I said. "I can't get it out of my mind."

"Second thoughts?"

"What, no...that's not it..."

"What then, love," she asked.

"I...I can't get comfortable."

"Oh...oh...that kind of comfortable. I...I could get the key...if it's too...difficult."

"No, I...I'll be okay." Truth be told I was afraid to have her unlock me, afraid I'd give into temptation, touch myself, and I didn't want to.

"What do you think about?"

"Him and you...duh..."

"Duh," Emily said. "What exactly? What were you thinking about now?"

I swallowed. "His hands...touching you..."

"Where," she asked.

"I don't know," I lied.

"Where," she asked again.

"I...your thighs...the inside of your thighs," I said.

Emily gasped; I realized she was touching herself.

I swallowed, felt the pressure between my own legs, the pressure that wouldn't go away regardless, would only get worse. "He...he looks at you, squeezes your thighs, pushes them apart without asking."

"Sara," she moaned softly.

"That...that's what a man does...he takes a woman...that's what you want him to do, don't you? Take you...not ask...not beg...take..."

Her moans were louder, I could feel her shaking.

"Emily," I whispered in her ear.

"What," she moaned.

"I...I want him to take you..."

"Hmmmm," she moaned louder, turned her head, looked a me, the begging look, the pleading look, full of need, desire.

"I want him to take you," I said again. "I want him to take you. I want him to take you."

Monday, July 21, 2014

Do we have to?

You think either of us has anything on our minds other than him?

You think I can't tell she's thinking about him all time? Planning it, anticipating it, waiting for it? 

You think she can't tell the same about me? That every time I kiss her goodnight, I'm thinking about it? That every time I look at her, catch her eye, it's on the forefront of my mind?

Not just the big it, either, not just the 'what could happen at the end of the night' it. Not just sex it. More, so, so much more.

"What," she asked me, seeing me in the mirror, standing behind her, watching her.

"Nothing," I said softly, looking away.

"Seriously, what?"

"'re going on a date," I said.

"I am," she answered.

"It feels...different."

She turned, looked at me. "God, you feel that way too, don't you?"


"I don't know, Sara, he feels different, I can't explain it."

"I can. He knows," I said.

"Evan knew I was with you, so did Jeff."

"No," I said, "Matthew knows. Like, he knows. You had a thing with Evan, before me. He didn't know, he was about you. And Jeff, he's like..." I laughed. "He collects pretty things, you just happened to be a married, pretty thing. Being married didn't matter all that much."


"Matthew...he knows. I don't happen to be married, I think he wants you because you're married." She didn't say anything, even glanced away. "What?"


"Emily, what?"

"I don't know, it's're right, of course."

"He wants you because you're married?"

She nodded. "He...yes. He wants me because I'm married, it's obvious, right?"

I looked away. "Em..."

She turned, touched my arm. "Sometimes I'm afraid I read you wrong, sometimes I'm afraid you don't want what you think you want."

"Emily,'s not that...I do...I just...I'm afraid he..."

"What," she asked, "he what?"

"I...I don't want him to just want you, I don't want him to just want to fuck you. I mean, do I like it when I see that look in a guy's eyes? That he wants you? Yes, you know that. That's like our little secret...flirting...this is different. I...I want..."

Emily stoked my arm, moved her hand to my chest, touched the bra I was wearing. "My pretty little sissy doesn't just want a man to fuck me, I want a man who wants to take charge."

I took a deep breath, she knew what I wanted, deep down inside she wanted it too. Not just a so-called bull, but a dom, a dominant man who did more than fuck my wife. An alpha man who, in some ways, became a part of our relationship, part of the dynamic. Not to replace me, emotionally, but to enhance what Emily and I had. I didn't want my wife to simply fuck another man, in a way I wanted him a part of us, a threesome, as it were, though in a very unique way. I wanted a man who was willing to take charge, to some extent, of Emily, of me, of us.

Wasn't that the true nature of cuckolding? Of my submissive desires?

"Don't get ahead of yourself, love," she said.


"You're projecting too far," Emily said, "I mean, I get it, I know what you want, I know what you fantasize about, I know your goals."

"So," I said, for the first time defensive. "You don't agree? You don't share them?"

Emily laughed. "My pretty little sissy."


She smiled. Then she shuddered. "Love, I share them, of course I share them, love. My god, to have intimacy, and that's so important, support, love from you while..."


"While having a man, too? What woman wouldn't want that? I'm just saying that we don't know he's the guy to give that, we don't know his goals match your...our goals. They might, they could...he seems...different."

"Like he gets it," I asked.

"Saturday," she said, "we have dinner reservations at eight."

"Yes," I asked, feeling the tightening between my legs.

"He texted me...last night."

My eyes narrowed, my mouth opened, the disappointment was obvious.

"Honey, no, no," she said seeing my face. "God, if I ever doubt that you want it as much as me, I just need to remember that face. Does he know? Does he share our goals? We have dinner reservations at 8, he texted me last night that he's picking me up at 7."

"Here," I said, "he's picking you up here?"

"Yes," she nodded. "You're right, Sara, he knows. He totally knows."

"Em," my voice quivered.

"I don't have to, love, you know I...we...don't have to..."

"Yes you do...yes we do," I answered. "I mean, I know we don't have to, but..."

"But you want to," she answered for me.


"So do I, love, so do I."

Thursday, July 17, 2014

He's the kind of man...

"I need to go shopping," she said.

"For," I asked.

"Well, we need to go shopping," she corrected herself.

"For," I asked again, looked to the kitchen.

"No," she laughed. "Not groceries. I want to buy something to Saturday."

"Oh," I looked down.

"You're funny."


"That forlorn look you have, the 'my wife needs to go buy a dress to wear on her date' it's a bad it doesn't turn you on like nothing else turns you on. Like you aren't fantasizing about it every night when you drift off to sleep. That look, like I want it more than you, like you're just going along...when it's all you want, when surrendering me to a man is everything."


"Am I wrong?"

"No," I swallowed.

"You want it."

"Yes," I said, "yes, you know, yes."

"That's why I love the forlorn look, love," she said, "that's what turns me on so much, that's what makes it so much more than just a date with some guy. I want you to want to share give me to him."

"Emily," I was breathing heavily.

"You know I'll never leave you, right? Never, Sara, never."

"Yes," I looked at her, she meant it, totally, fully.

"He's the kind of man who...he asked about you."

"What?" I sat upright. "What do you mean?"

"If...if you knew..."

"What'd you say," I demanded.

She smiled. "Of course he knows. I...I told him you're...different."


"Not Sara different, just, I don't know, different, different."

"You'''ll like him...he's so...sorry, I don't want to get ahead of myself, here, fuck, we haven't even done anything. He's so...he's the kind of man who...he's so..."

"He's so what," I asked.

"I asked him if he knew what cuckolding."

"Jesus, what'd he say," I said. "Em!"

She smiled. "He texted me back, right away. Something like, 'I'm going on a date with a married woman, of course I know what cuckolding is.' I asked him if he was sure, if he really knew."

"Does...does he?"

"He's the kind of man...he didn't answer...but he said I...we...need to go shopping."

"Yes...Emily, does...does he? Does he know?"

"He said...he said we're going to dinner at..." She named a restaurant, a good one, a great one. That happened to be connected to a hotel in his city.

"Em...does he?"

"He said...he said to buy a new dress...he said you need to buy me a new that...that's..."

"That's what?"

She swallowed. "That's sexier than I'd normally wear, that's more...revealing."


"Tell me, you think he knows?"


"You think he's the kind of man who knows what cuckolding is?"

"Emily," I half moaned.

"He wants you to buy me a dress, Sara, for our date; tell me, does he know?"

I don't think a guy that just wanted to fuck her would give a fuck what she told her husband about their date. Maybe I was reading too much, maybe I was too hopeful. Maybe I was playing out fiction in my mind. Maybe. But I think he might know. Whether he knew before, I think he knows now.

"I want a dress that tells him that...that I'm his...that we know I'm his...if he wants." She showed me a picture on her phone. "Something like this."

I just stared, mumbled something.

"I want to buy something else, too."

"What," I asked.

"Something...something to wear later, too. Something else to let him know I'm his after dinner, too."

Monday, July 14, 2014

Wrap dress*

*Also known as the "She wore it to an outdoor jazz concert/kind of date with a guy she has a crush on because she wanted to look kind of conservative because there were kids around but sexy, too, because, well, she didn't want him to get the wrong impression, like think that he should totally behave dress."

And did he totally behave?

"No," Emily said, "men like that are way, way more aggressive than you can ever imagine, Sara."

" didn't kiss, did you," I asked, wondering how aggressive he got.

"'s beyond that, love, it's touching a woman's arm, it's leaning close, occupying a woman's personal space, it's taking her elbow and guiding her someplace. It's being dominant, it's asserting control. You know how you try to be non-threatening to a woman, safe, deferential, like letting her know you're not a sexual threat? That's you're 'safe' to be around?"

"Yea," I said.

"He's none of that, just the opposite, everything he does makes it clear exactly what he is and exactly what he wants. He...he's an alpha man, Sara, he doesn't try to reassure a woman that he's safe, that's he's platonic, by instinct he's making it clear he's the opposite. It's not, 'don't worry, I'd never make a move until I was totally told to by you' like you do, it's 'you'd better worry because I'm so totally going to fuck you."

"Fuck, Em, he said that?"

"Said it," she laughed. "He didn't have to say it, love, that's the point, it he projected it, something so much more powerful than saying it."


" time...I....I don't know if...if I can..."


"If I can stop..."

"I know..."

"I mean it, I...he's like...I don't know if I can stop."

"Do you want to," I asked. "Stop?"

She looked down, bit her lip, shook her head. "No," she whispered.

We didn't speak another word for an hour; I couldn't because my mouth was too busy between her legs, licking her to orgasm after orgasm, and she couldn't because she was too busy moaning and moaning and moaning. I didn't speak, I didn't need to, my service, my submission, was all that was needed.

Later, though, later, as we fell asleep, I finally spoke, whispered. "Emily?"

"Yes," she looked over at me, eyes heavy."

"I don't want you to stop."

"I know, love, I know."

Control Panty Girdle

Officially, they are called Ladies Tummy-Control Panty Girdle but unofficially, they are called a Sissy Clit-Control panty girdle.

Saturday, July 12, 2014


"I have a surprise for you," my wife whispered in my ear as I tasted my first cock, "you know when I said you didn't know him? Well, I lied."

Wednesday, July 9, 2014


"This is the second time this week, Bob; we've discussed this," my boss said, crossing her arms.

"I...I can't help it," I defended myself, "she...she was rubbing against me." The 'she' was my secretary who seemed to go out of her way to dress provocatively and find every excuse she could to be near me, to touch me.

"I don't care if she undid your pants and stuck it in her mouth, Bob, unauthorized erections are not allowed her, you know that."

" won't happen again, I promise."

"I believe you," she smiled.

" do? I...I thought...I mean, I'm glad. I...I'll control it, I will."

"Of course you will Bob, especially once you're outfitted with a cage."

"Ms. Evans, please, no!"

"It's in the manual Bob, two erections in a week, two months in chastity."

Looking Good

"Whoa," I said, when I saw Emily come into the kitchen and sit down this morning for a cup of coffee served by me. "You look...whoa..."

"Just wait," she almost giggled.


"This," she said, reached down with her right hand and lifted the hem of her dress up to her upper thigh, exposing the top of her stocking.

"Whoa," I mumbled again. "Wait,'re not...I thought you weren't seeing him till tomorrow."

She batted her eyes. "I might have texted him last night and asked if he had lunch plans today," she said. "He wasn't sure, but I wanted to look good...just in case..."

"You're not going"

"Sara, no, of course not, not that fast, you know that...I's just lunch...but...a girl should look her best for a man regardless, no?"

"I...I suppose," I said, setting her coffee before her.

She bit her lip, touched my hand. "Sara, love, this...this flirting...this teasing...this toying...this is what you want, too...right?"

"Yes," I swallowed.

"And...and more?"

"Yes," I said again, "yes."

"A man...for me...for us..."


"A man in my life, in our life."

I inhaled sharply, nodded. "Yes."

She pulled me to her, kissed me deeply, cementing it, sealing it. Yes. Yes. We have our roles in life, our natural state, our part to play. Yes. Yes.

Monday, July 7, 2014


When your wife agreed to a threesome, you started thinking which other woman you wanted in bed with the two of you. Your wife, on the other hand, started thinking about what two guys she was going to invite.

Such a good boy, eating every last drop

Wedding Followup

We were at a wedding on Saturday, a mutual friend’s daughter. Emily looked stunning (shocking), in a black and white patterned wrap dress and black, ankle strap sandals. Truly stunning. I wore a dark blue suit, pink shirt, striped tie, just panties underneath covering my chastity cage.

During the minister’s remarks at the ceremony, he asked the open question to the audience, “What advice can you give this beautiful, young couple what is the secret of a happy marriage?” Several people, when prompted, gave customary answers. Communication. God. Commitment, etc. 

We happen to be sitting next to a man we didn’t know, an fit, handsome guy in his mid-40’s. We hadn’t talked to him before or during the ceremony. Emily, who was holding my hand, squeezed it as if she wanted to say something to me. I looked over at her, but she had leaned not towards me, but to the guy next to her. I saw his eyes eyes go wide, then he laughed, as she said something quiet in his ear.

I squeezed her hand, but she just looked over at me, smiled, mouthed, “later.”

After the ceremony, as we were walking to the reception line, I stopped to talk to someone, Emily and the stranger exchanged a word or two; Emily stopped, waited for me, took my hand. “What did you say to him,” I asked quietly.

She waited until we were in line, leaned towards me, whispered in my ear. “The question was what’s the secret to a happy marriage? I said a devoted husband and a hot boyfriend.” We were at the bride and groom, so I could say nothing, to Emily, only congratulate the happy couple. But as we left the line, I noticed the man watching us, he smiled at Emily, she smiled back, her smile that was part coy, part innocent, part tigress. 

As soon as we were in the car to drive to the reception, I turned to her. “You’re horrible,” I said in jest. “Who is he? Did you see how he was staring at you?” 

“Don’t know him, just some random hot guy,” she smiled. “And yes, I saw how he was staring at me. It was nothing, just innocent flirting.” 

“Just innocent flirting,” I questioned, unsure of this, torn. “He’s going to take it more than innocent, I saw how he looked at you.”

“I can easily avoid him at the reception,” she squeezed my hand, “if you’d prefer. Or I could have a little fun with him...and you, too.” Her voice gave away what she wanted; it had been some time since Jeff, several months of work, house, little fantasy of this sort. 

“What kind of fun,” I asked.

“Oh, I think you know the kind of fun, love,” she smiled. “It’s been too long and I...I miss it.”


“That too,” she grinned.

“Emily, are...are you sure this is the place.”

“What better place to get laid than a wedding,” she asked.

“You don’t even know his name,” I frowned.

“Matthew,” she said, “I asked the bride. He’s someone’s cousin, I forget who. He lives a little north of the city, he works in finance, but up, not here,” she meant the city 45 minutes north. “Oh, and he’s divorced. And single.”

My mouth was agape. “You got all this from her in the reception line?”

“Yea...I said a friend of yours noticed him and was interested.”

I realized what she said a minute ago. “Emily, seriously, you don’t mean that.”

“Do you think I’d fuck some random guy? Seriously? Is that what you actually think? That I’m some kind of slut?”

“No,” I looked down. Perhaps for a ‘normal’ couple there would be no distinction, but there was for us, both in attitude and practicality. 

“I know, someone who…who’s……”

“Like Evan?’

“Yes,” she said, “but closer.”

“You want a boyfriend,” I said, calling it what it was.

“We’ve talked about this, Sara,” she touched my leg. “Maybe. I mean, with the right person? What if Evan lived closer, you’d like that...or at least like to explore it.”


“Maybe,” she laughed. “Maybe? I don’t like to date, you know that, isn’t that one of the reasons we only dabble in this? If it wasn’t for work, wouldn’t you have wanted to take things further with Jeff? Wouldn’t you like someone that was good for both of us?”

“You think this is that guy?” The pit in my stomach was familiar, it was there anytime she expressed interest in a guy, but the excitement was there, too. Right or wrong, we are not a normal couple, we don’t have normal couple norms

“Who knows,” she shrugged, “probably not. But this is safe, right? He fucking knows I’m married, why not take dip a toe in the water.”

“You’re just going to flirt.”

“Like tonight? Yea, of course. I’m never screwing some random guy. Never.”

“He’s going to ask.” About me.


“And you’re going to say…?”

“Well, when it come up, I’m going to tell him that my husband and I have a unique relationship, I’m going to motion you’ll hang nearby...introduce you...and ask you to get us another drink. Which you’ll do. And he’ll either get it or he won’t.”

And he did.

She motioned me over as she said she would, before dinner, introduced Matthew to me. “Poor Matthew’s here without a date,” she said, “I’ve been keeping him company, you don’t mind, do you?”

“No,” I said softly, looking down, shy, not meaning to, unable not to. “You know I don’t. I’m glad you found someone to talk to, Matthew,” I said.

“See, I told you he doesn’t mind,” Emily touched my arm, “a woman couldn’t ask for a more devoted husband, could she, I’m very lucky.” 

I sensed the opening, decided to jump in with both feet. “Can I get you another drink, Em,” I asked my wife.

“Yes, the Sauvignon Blanc, please,” she said half shaking her empty wine glass.

“Matthew, can I get you something, too?”

His eyebrows went up. Click. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course...whiskey? Bourbon? You look like a Bourbon man,” I said.

“Yes, I am, actually,” he said, “very perceptive.” Click. “You drink it yourself?”

“Bourbon? No, too strong for me,” I said, “I guess I’m more of a white wine drinker, too, I leave the Bourbon to someone who likes the burn ” Click.

After I brought them their drinks, except for dinner, Emily spent the rest of the evening with Matthew and I spent the rest of the evening watching, the familiar knot in my stomach, the familiar tightness in my groin.

And as I said last week, they met for drinks last Tuesday, a testing the waters, and it went well and at the end he asked three questions: 1) you’re husband’s okay with this (yes), 2) do you want to go to a jazz concert next Thursday, this week (yes), and 3) do you want to keep Saturday, July 26 clear (yes...yes).

Thursday, July 3, 2014


"What...what are you doing with those," I asked Emily nervously when she dangled the keys in front of my face.

"Bringing them to the office," she smiled.


"Cause we're not going to need them for awhile, love, not while I'm deciding what to do about him."

"Em," I said, feeling the tightness, the swelling, "'s been a month."

"Oh, sweetie, I know, and I'm sorry, I am, but now's not the time, not when I'm...flirting...deciding, not when I'm playing, thinking...right? You know how you are after, right? I mean, it's sooooo much more fun for you like this, isn't it?"

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

"No, love, no," she said, then whispered in my ear. "If anyone's getting hard around me in the next month, it's not going to be you."


Here's the thing, it doesn't matter how small your sissy's clit is, it doesn't matter if her erections are a thing of the past, she should always be locked in chastity, always.

Tuesday, July 1, 2014


Seeing their wife get dressed in a low cut top, short shorts, and heels, to meet a friend for a drink, most guys would order her to get changed.

But I'm a sissy.

So when Emily got dressed this evening to meet a 'friend' for a drink, I didn't tell her to change, I told her go have fun, and good luck, and I hoped it went well her new 'friend', a guy she met at a wedding a few weeks ago, a guy who very well may be that next guy (more on the wedding later).

And yes, my clit is soooo swollen right now. So, so swollen. Because I really don't want it to go well, but also really, really want it to go well at the same time.

I mean, fuck, I'm shaking right now. From anxiousness, jealousy, and excitement.

Like how excited? My panties are wet. Yes, wet. Like a girl, wet. Because I'm leaking, literally leaking. 

I know it's wrong to some but not to us. 

Monday, June 30, 2014

Great Minds...

He finally worked up the nerve to tell his wife he fantasized about seeing her suck a man's cock. Her response? "Funny, I fantasize about the same thing."

Promises, promises