The sissyslut Corner

The comeback begins

2011-04-04T16:30:00.000-07:00

It's not like I've been behaving for the pas two years. Just too lazy and paranoid to post. Well to hell with that. Girl is coming out. Maybe not all the way, but enough to be found:
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001592971096

No more denial

2009-03-29T05:41:00.000-07:00

I am home. My knees are wobbly. Weak.
Sissy's knees.
I've been on them all night.
She's asleep. She stopped waiting up. "just a night out with the guys..." i told her. I wasn't lying. Two guys. I've never been with two men ...
My asshole is sore. Still lubed. I'm in a pleasant dizzy state. My own shirt, stained by the cum on my chest. My mouth, slightly aching.
My cocklet. Also sore. From the intense ejaculation. And yet as i hear my wife snore from the upstairs bedroom, I feel ... sneaky. Like there's a few more precious seconds of freedom. Seconds that I must use before my privacy is all gone again.
I blink.
I don't know anymore how I got here. - must be drunker than i thought. I'm in the basement. Fucking my ass with the dildo I have extracted from its hiding place. My lubed ass is welcoming the feel of a nice big cock once again tonight - this morning.
My penis is still aching, but hard as a rock. I'm trying to find a free hand to stroke it. One is holding a dildo and the other ... Jesus! It's like I'm watching someone else.
I can't even believe this. The other hand is holding my cell phone. I've called a niteflirt girl. I'm hearing myself telling the phone sex girl how much of a sissy husband I am. She's calling me a queer. I tell her I want to get fucked in front of her. In front of my wife!
I barely know what i'm saying, just letting words flow. I stroke myself hard - then giggle as my boycunt squeezes the dildo out with nothing to push it in. The rush makes my cock twitch.
"I'm gonna ... ," i moan desperately to the girl on the phone. Then...
"Creak!"
I hear my wife getting up from the bed. Two floors up. But I know it's her.
I need to stop. Get to the kitchen.
Gripping the phone. I stand to pull up the sweats i had changed into. My hand is still not ready to stop. The phone girl moans. I clap the phone shut. But it's too late. Under my pants, my cock lets go. Warm wet spurts of cum splash the pants, run coldly down my leg. Sneaking up the stairs, I am still cumming.
We meet in the kitchen. I'm getting a glass of water. She leads me to bed. My cock pulses one last time. The cum running to my toes.
And the sissy falls asleep.

Finds

2008-10-03T13:25:00.000-07:00

I loves it when I find new sexy things to make my sissy cocklet go crazy. Hope you love them too.

Wow

2008-09-30T17:06:00.000-07:00

So, I got quite a response from the people who wanted to hear more cheating stories, and though I never set out to make this a cuckold blog (as I've said, I was certainly never a voluntary participant in my ex-wife's cheating), I'd be lying if I said that it didn't contribute to my sissydom or at least that my sissy nature made it easier for me to take her cheating.
She would be gone overnight every 4th or 5th Saturday night and I'd just use the free time in pretty panties, surfing for porn, chatting with other sissies, bouncing on my dildo and pretending that my wife wasn't out getting fucked by ex-boyfriends, guys she took back from clubs or just her bisexual female best friends.
It hand been months since her last admitted affair. A "moment of weakness" she called it. And I pretended that I believed her.
But then she lost her mom.
It was unexpected and she took it hard. It was trouble for her to get out of bed in the morning. And strangely, for a while, our marriage was never better. I was her support. I was able to be there for her and I never felt more like a real husband. For a few short months I stepped into that role I was afraid I could never be for her. Strong, protecting ...truly a husband. It was then that she admitted to a handful of one night stands and one true affair.
She sobbed (once again) and promised (once again) that things would change. That she now understood what marriage was supposed to be and what mattered most in her life.

We talked about sex and her sex drive; her need for excitement and she even began to tell me about past lovers and sexual experiences. She said and I reluctantly agreed that openness would improve both our sex life and our trust. We made love that night and I was hard almost the entire time.
The next night we went out to what I knew was her favorite bar. We ran into friends who were surprised to see me actually out. And she introduced me to new friends I'd never met, girls she knew who were regulars there. One of them was Rachelle. A friend of my wife she hadn't seen in several months. I'll never forget her, white hair and a sexy raspy voice. I found myself lost staring at her when I was introduced, but then her next few words brought me crashing down. She said hi to my wife then asked her, referring to me "OHHH, is this your boyfriend?"
Silence.
I smiled at her nervously, and she added quickly that she'd heard a lot about me. Of couse, she didn't mean ME.
My wife said quickly no, and introduced me by name, but never once corrected her that I was, in fact her husband.
The rest of the night at the bar was a blur. i knew we both tried to drink the awkwardness away. We spoke little and came home.
As we opened the door I unloaded. Asking "who is he? Why didn't you tell that bitch who i was."
She replied, "you weren't my boyfriend. I didn't lie. What's past is in the past."
And then I opened Pandora's box.
Drunk and in bed with her, I demanded that she tell me about him. Everything. I wanted answers, I wanted no more lies or secrets and I think I thought it could turn us both on maybe. Maybe it could spark something between us the way her talk about her early sexual experiences had aroused us the night before.
I was wrong. She told me it was a bad idea, but i pressed and so she told me. Everything. About his cock, about the threesome with her friend Mindy, about telling him she loved him. The nude pictures she took for him and the pregnancy scare. It overwhelmed me. I felt dizzy. I wanted to run out. Instead, I noticed that she had gotten herself worked up. And as I got up to sleep it off on the couch, she had a different plan.
"Fuck me" she said. She leaned back onto the bed, spread her legs, already wet all over her upper thighs. "Please, I need it ..."
I tried. That is all i can say. My fear, regret, frustration and misery made for poor aphrodisiac and though I was hard enough to enter her, I could not stay that way. Undaunted, she grinded against me until she came.
"so fucking good" were the last words I heard her say before we passed out in bed, me thinking those words were for me.
Two hours later, I heard the clicking of heels on the hardwood floor of the bedroom. As I tried to shake off the sleep, i saw my petite wife in a short dress and heels, grabbing her purse. She saw me waking and was fazed for a second. But she leaned down, kissed my forehead and said, "I'm sorry baby, but I have to go."
I thought of a hundred things to say to stop her. I said none. And she went.
This time I didn't see her again until Monday afternoon. Apologetic as always.
A year and two more affairs later she served me with divorce papers.

Dear Stacy ...

2008-09-22T13:45:00.000-07:00

I thought of you today. In a toy store, as I walked by a row of barbie dolls. I remember when you were my babysitter ...
I never had sisters, and there was a whole world of girlie things I never got to experience until met you. I remember visiting your house with my family, sometimes when you weren't home. Your parents would direct me to a big bin in the basement with all of you and your brother's toys. I was 12, and still I remember pushing past your brother's old transformers to get to your pretty barbies. And undisturbed on the floor, I'd play for hours ... until I'd hear voices coming down the stairs. I even remember the afternoon when I, locked the door and undressed Barbie, imagined touching a woman that smooth and sexy, imagining wearing clothes like hers. And there on the floor of your old playroom I exploded a hot, wet, passionate orgasm all over your doll.
I took it home that afternoon. I didn't want anyone to see or know what I did. And I kept that doll. I kept it with the bras you left at my house. Kept it with shoplifted playboys and JC Penney swimsuit catalogs. Kept in an old gift box that had gifts all its own. The gifts of dozens and dozens of orgasms. Some of my first and some of my best.
It was the same box I would dig out when you babysat me at our house. When I knew you would be too distracted with TV or with your boyfriend to pay any attention to what I was doing. Or else you knew to give me my space - something my parents never learned. Sometimes thouse even my secret box wasn't enough to distract me from wondering what you were doing when he was there. And I would sneak ...
The things I learned, Stacy, I'll never forget. The sight of your breast as he slid your shirt off, making out with you. And the night I can never forget, watching him, sitting naked on my parent's couch while you sucked his cock ...
As I passed by a row of barbie dolls, I thought of all these things. In honor of all of those memories from my first year of exploration, I bought a blonde Bratz doll. Brought it home ... and though of you some more.

Infidelity

2008-09-09T14:58:00.000-07:00

Thanks for answering my poll. Here you go:
It's been so long, it feels like a lifetime ago. Jessica and I were living in the new apartment. The last boxes had been unpacked. Three weeks until the wedding and I thought I was in heaven. Sure, she could be a bitch. Sure, I had problems staying hard during sex and yeah, she was really flirty when we went out. But nothing was going to make me not marry this woman.
She's got a huge social circle and keeps in touch with everyone, so when she mentioned an ex coming into town, and that they were meeting for lunch, it was clear to me that she wasn't asking. That she thought it innocent enough to tell me and not keep it a secret. How could I not trust that. I had vague recollections of her mentioning him. In sort of the "he's not over me" department, but I guess it was simply reassuring by how casual she was about it.
The night of the date, she had promised to be back in time to watch Friends with me. By 10;30, she had still not come home, and though I was getting worried and a bit suspicious, (I couldn't get through on her cell) I was also getting tired. I had to work Friday early and I started to doze off despite my concerns ...
I spring up from the couch when I hear a stumble on the stairs outside the front door. Then a muffled giggle. The clock says 1:15. I lay back down, confused, groggy and for some reason not wanting to be caught. I hear her open the door, I hear her whisper something as she leans into the living room where I have passed out. Then I hear two sets of feet sneak to the bedroom, and the lock click quietly.
I shut my eyes tight as though somehow that will drown out the moans, creaks, bangs and other sex noises. Someone is getting fucked. Fucked like no one has been fucked since we moved in together. My throat is blocked, my stomach turns over and over, my heart palpitating. i want to die. My shirt is wet, and only then i notice I am crying like a baby. And as I hear her moans grow and build to an orgasm - unlike any I've quite heard like from her before. I become embarrassed to see that I am hard as a rock. I'm fucking dizzy, confused, and I need to feel something. I guess that's why i begin to walk, cock in hand, to the bedroom door.
I hear her orgasm build and build. I am desperate to see, to hear more clearly. I'm disgusted at myself. And then I hear the floorboard squeak as I step - loudly. I rush back to the couch. The fucking stops and soon ... whispers ... I hear the door open. Tiny footsteps. And she sits down next to me.
I don't know who starts first, but soon we are both sobbing, holding each other tight. She is begging forgiveness and I am moaning that I hate her over and over. But soon, I am the only one crying and like a consoling mother, she lulls me to be quiet. I'm so sorry she says (i can still hear her voice) and then i hear him come into the room. He takes her hand and leads her away. BACK TO THE BEDROOM! I jump up trying to catch her before they make it. She lets his hand go, tells me she is so sorry. I tell her - whispering, harshly but quietly so he won't hear - "tell him to leave!"
"I can't," she says.
"You can't or you won't!?" I now take a step into the bedroom.
She quietly, gently pushes me out the doorway, says nothing, then shuts the door. "click"

He's fucking her, harder, louder than before. She can barely talk. Moans become so loud, i could never block them out. "I'm sorry baby, so sorry!" She is moaning it over and over. Sorry, but not enough to stop.
- I'm not a cuckold fantasy kind of person. Some guys willingly let women do this to them and find a thrill from it. For me, it was pure agony, not the fulfillment of a long dormant fantasy. I was full of only pain, misery, inadequacy. And yet, I could hear her. I wanted to desperately to see her. The aching humiliation - the sounds, the situation. It all contributes to make me so uncontrollably aroused that i drop to my knees and begin to jerk off.
On the other side of the door, sounds of "I'm sorry baby," and her reassuring me that she loves me, give way to telling him that she loves his cock. Loves him. And that is about the time I spill a puddle of humiliated cum onto the floor in front of our bedroom.
Exhausted and miserable, I pass out on the couch. Sometime around 3 a.m., the fucking finally stops. I wake up, with barely time to make it to work. She is at the table, eyes bloodshot. Bite marks on her breasts and neck. She has one question and demands I answer now. Do I still want to marry her. I tell her I need to think. She becomes upset, I do too. I ask, "will it ever happen again?" She sobs and then says she doesn't know. I storm out and go to work.
When I return that day, I tell her yes, though it is clear they fucked all day before he left town.
I marry her.
And she does do it again. Thirteen times. Each times, she cries. Each time I masturbate. Each time she begs forgiveness. Each time I take her back.
Until she leaves me.
And now crying again, I'd love to hear your comments.

.

Break

2008-09-02T18:56:00.000-07:00

She's engrossed in that TV show. Perfect chance for me to sneak upstairs. Check my email. Update a blog or two.
Maybe I'll open up just one window of porn. Hate to see a good site subscription go to waste.
God, look at her tits. She's gorgeous. Those breasts. So incredible - just want to touch them, hold them. mmm, wish they were mine.
Fuck. No. Jesus you fag. Look at her, what guy wouldn't want to fuck her. Mmmm, yeah ... but i probably couldn't stay hard for her. I'm definitely not as big as the guy fucking her. Fuck, shut up. This is why you're so pathetic, you need to think like a man. Be aggressive. be dominant. Use that cock. Use it like this guy.
God she's lovin that dick. I'd love to just touch it. Stroke it. Suck it. Feel it. Feel it in me.
Ohhhh, fuck. Stop it. Stop stroking to the fantasy of getting fucked. Stop - ohhhhh. Close that tranny website you just opened. Close out that crossdressing website. Oh god, don't put your credit card number in.
no no noooooo. Please no. Don't touch it, don't stroke it. You know she wants it tonight. She has been so neglected. Oh fuck, it feels so good.
Look at all those pantied cocks. Faggots. Sissies. Just like you. Ohhhh, stop stroking it. It's not even completely hard. God, it's so small. So pathetic. GOD, don't say it outloud - even quietly. Even whispering. Stop calling yourself a sissy. Stop it. Why is it making me so hard to hear those words.
Oh god, stop. Stop, she's coming upstairs. i can hear her. Oh god. Oh god please hurry. Oh ... OHHHHHH this is gonna be big. It's gonna spurt. I feel it. I feel it. Coming. Ohhhh fuck. it hurts it's shooting so hard it hurts.
She's close, so close.
Still coming, still coming. I can hear the spurts. So loud.
Control your breathing. She's almost here. Lick it up. Swallow it. Lick it off your fingers. She didn't look at you. Thank god. She just went strainght to the bedroom.
Finish cleaning. Just lick it all up. No time for kleenex.
Oh fuck. The cow has put on a pink nightie. She wants your dick. That sad, faggot dick. You fucking sissy!

Patience

2008-09-02T13:38:00.000-07:00

Thank you all so much for participating in my poll and being patient with my delayed posts. This naughty sissy has few excuses for not posting anything new in so long, other than, it seems every time I have a spare second to sit down to the computer, all i do is stroke my clitty to a quiet little orgasm.

Ever since my adventures while my wife was away, my sex drive has gone crazy. Not, of course, my desire for her. But I have become quite bold in my newfound love of having my ass pounded. Nearly every morning starts with that lovely dildo I bought. I mount it to the wall of the shower, turn on the water and as quietly as I can press it into me. Slowly and deeply, I let it glide into me, tickling and teasing my insides. I slowly build up speed each time - making a perfect rhythm - as I caress my body. feeling the orgasm build. Then before I start moaning loud enough to wake her, I grab the dildo, quietly slide it off the wall and furiously bang my faggot cunt until I spray my queer sissycum all over the shower floor. Often after a run, before she gets home, i go through the same routine. And I just thank my good fortune for the nights she doesn't want sex from me.

Quickies

2008-08-22T13:29:00.000-07:00

Thanks to my computer scooping up a really nasty virus this week, my updates have been behind where I planned. A few things I did want to let you know, however: 1. Thanks for voting on the "who my readers are" section. I'm always wicked curious who is reading. And appreciative to those who have left comments.
2. I may not have mentioned yet, but I have a HUGE bride fetish. I love a sexy bride pic. They're such a turn on and a beautiful woman in a bridal gown gets me every time. And of course as a horny little crossdresser, i also love fantasizing about being in that pretty white dress.
When my first wife and I divorced, she left her wedding dress behind (didn't hurt that I also had it hidden pretty well). I spent several years hoping I might be skinny enough to fit in it, but she was quite small. However, I'd still fag around in it as often as I could. (My current wife's dress would have no such problem, as I could gain 10 lbs and still fit in it better than she could)
When I got married the second time, my current wife made me get rid of the dress, thinking it was weird that I hadn't "bothered to rid myself of it yet".
I'm only glad she didn't look too closely at the stretched and torn waist or the numerous little stains all over it from the many nights of using that sexy satin to make myself crazy, squealing and spurting and wishing I could have been a real husband to that woman.
And maybe kept her faithful.

Update 2

2008-08-20T05:53:00.000-07:00

Cleanup time. It's an inevitable element of any closeted crossdresser's life. Hiding or purging out most cherished possessions to keep our secret safe. She will be home in hours and my home has become a den of sissy infidelity and masturbation. Each memory makes me more aroused and makes it more difficult to finish cleaning. My wig, dildo and favorite lingerie has been stashed, but everything else goes in the trash.
Purging always makes me sad. From the time i was 13 and 14 to today. I find myself envying teenagers today, who have an abundance of resources (the internet being the big one I never had) to sissy up, discreetly if they wish or outloud and proud.
It's shame I feel as I pick up the last of my sissythings: my nail polish, my skirt and ripped stockings. Familiar shame I felt every time I would find myself carefully trying to apply lipstick even with my hand furiously working my little prickie. Shame when I'd get home from school and slide on a new pair of high heels and prance around all afternoon - instead of going to the pool or the mall to meet girls. Shame that brought me wave after wave of orgasm for over 15 years now. Shame that always stuns me, makes me want to cry, and arouses me ... so, so much.

It's that shame that has me back in my bra and stilettos, only half of my toenails removed of polish. Shame that has me working my sissycunt with that wonderful thick dildo even as my wife texts me she will be home in 30 minutes.

I am a flurry of squeals and spurts and clean up just in time as my wife comes through the door. She misses me, my touch, my lips. And later tonight I know there is more shame to come. After the workout I have given myself, I will not be able to satisfy her tonight.

Flashback

2008-08-14T14:02:00.000-07:00

I remember I was 13. Anyone who was more recently that age than me probably remembers even more vividly how little privacy you had during that time in your life. And just as you're exploring your sexuality, too! (a practice I had kicked into overdrive from day one)
It was during one of these rushed crossdressing sessions that I really got into it. A new skirt, one of Stacy's bras, some thrift store heels that had gotten me a look as I bought them one day on my way home from school. (I remember how tough it was to ride my bike home with an erection from thinking of the sexy heels in my backpack). And then I noticed I didn't feel quite complete. My toes needed something: polish. But I had none and knew my mother never used it. What I did have were markers. Bright pink markers, the kind that smelled like watermelon or strawberry or something. So in a flash i did up my toes and masturbated - coming just as my parents came home with my little brother.
I made one small tactical error, and realized it just as they came home. No sooner had I stuffed my pretty things into a drawer than my mother screamed at me "Come on, let's go."
Go? Go where?
"To karate."
Oh shit. karate class. Karate class where we don't wear shoes. I freaked out and ran around, grabbing my karate stuff, but in a bigger hurry to find a washcloth to wipe off my toenails. I did the best I could, but could still tell that they were a lot ... pinker ... than usual. There was nothing I could do.
I made it for quite a while. I guess no one really looks at anyones toes very closely. But somewhere halfway though class, i saw Anthony, a little asshole who I had been in several fights with, look down at my feet. I gave him a quick look, which he took to be a dirty look. He walked right over and got ready to shove me, but we were pulled apart. In a panic, angry and scared I walked off to the boys locker room. the instructor's wife, a sweet woman with a pretty face and some of the biggest breasts I had ever seen on such a thin woman comforted me. Treating me like a bullied little kid, she more or less let me hide out in the locker room. i was upset, because I did love karate class, but releived I could get away with my toenails and not be caught.
It was on my way to my mom's car that Anthony, away from eyes of adults, rushed over to me. gave me a quick shove and called me a fag.
I'm almost certain now, that he saw nothing, but at the time it was all I could do to keep the word from my brain all night. Picturing all kinds of people, especially the girls in my school calling me "fag" as they saw me all dolled up. The sexiness of that thought mingled with the humiliation was a potent mix and I discovered for the first time that i could have more than one orgasm in a day.

Update

2008-08-14T07:17:00.000-07:00

Thanks to everyone who voted. It ended a dead heat between wanting to hear new, recent stuff and wanting me to post memories of when i was a young(er) crossdresser/sissy (you pervs) :)
So I guess today I should do double duty. Plus it's been a while since I posted at all and I want to make it clear this is not a phantom site.

Like a true pathetic sissy, I did not make the most of my week with my wife away. So much time was dedicated to LOOKING for a playmate, but eventually each time, i chickened out and just splashed my sissycum onto my computer desk or my pretty panties.
But on the last night I chatted with a guy I had found in a chatroom a few days before. His pics looked impressive and chatting with him the last night, I felt something stirring in my panties. I needed him to see me. I needed this one for real. I'm tired of only my hand and my dildo. So we called, and since he lived an hour away, it took a little convincing to get him to decide I was for real and to come over.
I had a whole hour to get pretty and I still had new unworn girlie clothes. So I showered, and put on a tan, pleated skirt, pink thong beneath, a white blouse with a padded pink bra I could see through the material and white open-toed stilettos. My makeup was perfect and my toenails and fingernails were a perfect pink that matched my undies. I needed to be 100%girlie for him.
As I strapped on my shoes, I thought about the night before. Out with the guys at the strip club. I loved it. I always do. Young, flexible, sexy girls so much skinnier than my wife. Angels in stilettos, bouncing in my lap in the private rooms, smooth firm asses, perfect breasts. Feeling them grinding me. Driving me crazy. I never feel so straight as when I am there. Knowing that it's all I want. To be with a sexy, kinky little slut.
And now, pulling on my wig and reapplying lipstick, all I want is to be a sexy, kinky little slut. I'm thinking just this just as the doorbell rings. I swish over to the door, growing hard as I hear the clack, clack, clack of my heels. Throwing the door open I expect to be adored, ravaged, anything... but he pushes past me and slams the door quickly behind him.
After quick introductions, it is clear he is ready to go. I try to pose and preen, letting him take me in in my sissy, emasculated glory. But his cock is already out. And I know what comes next. Still doing my best to look super sexy, I slide to my knees and wet his cock with my mouth. Swirling my tongue around, savoring the flavor of his skin. I kiss the head, just so I can see the pink lip prints there. I take him back in my warm mouth and I watch only my pretty fingernails as I suck and stroke his growing manhood.
His moans make me happy, I'm such a good cocksucker. I'm still imagining us kiss for the first time. Him making love to be, adoring my body. Playing with my nipples, my toes. GOD, I want to be kissed!
I gently pull his cock from my mouth. It's time to show him what he wants. I step towards the couch, pointing my ass up and out as I prepare to lean over and let him watch me, let him have me. But he is quick and impatient. As I begin to bend over the arm of the couch, he helps me, pushing me down, bending me further. his hand lifts up my skirt. i squeal a little as I feel the breeze from the air conditioning hit my ass, but I grunt as he roughly tugs down my thong. It hurts a little as he keeps tugging it pushing it down and away. His other hand goes to my chest, feeling me up. I feel so helpless and he plays with my falsies. Then he grips my blouse and tears at it, popping buttons as he rips my blouse open, then off. I feel a lump in my throat. My cocklet goes limp. I worked so hard to be girlie. Now my wig is on the floor along with my ruined blouse.
His cock presses into me and I almost don't want it at all. But that's not an option. He is hard and bog. And I am already lubed. It slides in without concern. And he starts pounding right off.
The lump in my throat feels so big, I can't speak and I'm fighting tears as his cock begins to pleasure me from every angle. It's the perfect storm of opposite feelings. His dick is huge and my prostate is getting a workout. He pounds me with every thrust and I can barely take it. I feel it in my gut. And my moans are loud. I admire how feminine I sound. I long to hear that pretty girl voice say dirty things. And soon I do. I hear her say "spank me." I love it. The cock keeps thumping me, pushing my body down. I need him to slow down. Just so I can catch my breath. Instead the girlie voice says "Fuck me harder, harder." Her voice excites me and the scream becomes "HARDER!!" He obliges and now I am being pounded so fiercely. His hand is swatting my ass with almost every stroke and now all I feel is the heat rising off my red asscheek. I know I will hurt for days. So why is that girlie voice still moaning "spank me daddy, harder." ?
I feel dizzy, as though I'm blacking out. My body is now on the living room floor. My face buried in a couch pillow, screaming. Screaming so the neighbors can't hear and screaming so the man fucking my sissy ass can't hear that the words are "please stop" and "no more." Truth is it feels so good, but too much. Too much and I just need it to be over. His dick controls me. owns me. I am it's slave. It's whore. I fuck back against it, only wanting it to reward me with cum. Ohhh, yess. Fucking it back. Brings new pleasure. i can't handle it any more than before though. I'm squealing loud. he grunts and pounds me faster. Until with one hard thrust he stops. I wonder briefly if he has cramped up or something. Nothing happens. And then with a shout, he unloads inside me. One loud shout. half a dozen hard thrusts as his cock pulses in me, filling me with his cum.
We rest together on the floor for a moment. Then he pulls me up. Standing next to each other, I am still a flood of emotions. My cunt is spent, my cocklet firm and aching. He smiles at me, reaches down for my wig. And as I place it back on my head, he holds my face and kisses me. Really kisses me. I blush as he pulls his pants back up and walks out the door.

It's that image, the kiss. Not the huge cock, not the cum inside me, not even the vision of the sexy, spent, sissy faggot whore I see in the mirror. It's that kiss that has me tugging my sissy clitty for an hour before I fall asleep on that same couch with a puddle of my cum on my tummy.

No Longer Waiting

2008-08-04T12:07:00.000-07:00

His cock is in my mouth. Swollen, smooth and long. I feel it with every part of my mouth. So new. So familiar. scary, wild and wonderful. It's not my first cock, but my first in a while. A long while.
Bobbing my sore mouth up and down on it, swirling my tongue, I can feel the difference. The firmness, the throbbing. So much different that the hard latex that has spent so much time in my mouth. No, his flesh has a feel, even a taste, i swear I can taste him through the condom. And my tongue and lips want more. My hand strokes any part of his gorgeous penis my mouth isn't on - moving in rhythm back and forth with my lips. My other hand is rediscovering the joy of cradling and caressing a pair of shaved balls.
I hear myself whimper. Loudly. I am reminded of the sissy that I am. Part of me wondering where I have gone wrong. Where a married "straight" man has become a queer, cocksucking fairy, kneeling on his living room floor in front of a stranger he met on craigslist. The other part of me knows all to well, I didn't "go wrong." This is where I belong. Kneeling in heels, panties, and lipstick, a swishy, sissy, slave to cock.
His moans are unimaginative and stupid, "Oh yeah baby, yeah ... feels good." It's gone on for almost 10 minutes and I'm bored with him. I got all dolled up and nervous before his arrival; it had been so long for me. And then he shows up, unimpressed by my efforts to look sexy and sissy. I'm just a mouth to him and it hurts my sissy feelings. I can feel myself getting choked up and emotional. Thinking how pathetic I look. A queer little cunt on his knees, smearing the lipstick he spent so long lovingly applying. Desperate to be seen a a gorgeous girlie, yet so eager for a stranger to come use me and dismiss me. I gain momentum now - I'll fucking show him! - Stroking faster, sucking deeper, wetter. I hear him moan out, "You little bitch, yes! Fucking bitch!" And I love him for it. He fucks my mouth, my eyes water. Streaming tears as I gag and choke on his dick.
"Fucking bitch! Fucking whore!"
He pulls out of my mouth so quickly, I squeak in surprise. He rips off the condom. I am nervous for a second. But that second is all it takes. My cheek feels its first splash. His cum soaks the left side of my face in two quick spurts. I feel it run down my neck as his hand slaps my face across my right cheek. His cum is still splashing me. Now on the lips, chin and chest. Another small, startling slap across my face (the kind I told him I liked) and I am laying on the floor.
It's five minutes after the door has slammed. He has gone and forgotten me, I'm still on the floor stroking my sissy clitty as I finally squeal a satisfying orgasm that sprays my chest and face.

Waiting, pt. 2

2008-07-31T14:04:00.000-07:00

It's day two, and I'm waking up at 8. Day two of my vacation without wife has begun. Not on a great note, since I'm not on vacation from work and now I have 30 minutes to get there. With all the makeup to clean off of me and a 30 minute drive at best, I wisely call in that I can't get my car started and I'll be in as soon as I can.
I wobble, still wearing one of my heels from the night before, to the bathroom. And I look into the mirror. The whore looking back at me is something of a familiar face. One I hadn't seen in so long and one that brings back a rush of emotion. I've always had a love/hate relationship with my sissy side. So many times I dreamed of being normal, only to be pulled away by the call of a pair of sexy shoes or pretty panties. It's an understatement how much simpler my life would be, if every time I slid on panties or fastened a bra onto my chest, I didn't lose all inhibitions. Thinking all of those things and more, I wipe smudged lipstick from my chin and begin to cry. Washing my face and letting the emotion out begins to feel cathartic. It's just so overwhelming, the rush of being back in such a familiar place after so long. Back in my sissy clothes. And looking back into the mirror, I see another reflection.
The dildo.
Is still attached to the wall. God bless a suction cup. This time another wave of tears come. I know what's about to happen. Why had I even denied myself? I slip off my shoe and under complete control of my libido, I pace towards the giant synthetic manhood. I lean down to scoop up the bottle of lubricant (cap off and leaking) I had dropped in my haste the night before. Making my penis and sissy cunt slick, i drop my skirt to the floor, pull down my panties and prepare to be fucked again. It's with pure lust and anger, frustration and humiliation that I pound my ass against the dildo. My moans are frustrated yelps, as I use it to punish me. I want it to hurt. It does. More and more and more. Faster and faster and FUCK! The shot even surprises me as i arcs up almost to eye level and drops with a wet slap to the floor. Followed by another and another. Three hard bursts, followed by a dozen fruitless spasms of my cock as I try desperately to pull myself from the dildo.
I am spent. The shower lasts until there is no trace of hot water. i am slightly dizzy and euphoric. Exhausted from my morning escapade.
But walking downstairs for breakfast, I immediately begin to regret calling in late. Now I have plenty of time to spare, my brain tells me. And again my heartbeat quickens ...
I know I should get something to eat. i should get dressed. I should go to work. My cock is sore and spent, but it's already too late. Before I even know it, I am on the couch, the tranny porn is playing and my hand is back, stroking again.

I never really explored

2008-07-30T17:05:00.000-07:00

... my sissy side as much as my early years of dressing and constant masturbation would lead one to believe.
I got caught enough times by my mother and that led to such unwanted fucking drama, I ended up purging all my pretty things and staying purged for most of High School. It was a shame to waste some of my prime years. Add to that that as a short, skinny guy, it was hard to get girls.
See, i still liked girls. All of the porn I collected featured women. All my fantasies were of girls I went to school with. And deep down, i believed I was 100% straight, ("just like the majority of crossdressers," my panicked mother had once said in a most uncomfortable "intervention" of my crossdressing)
But liking girls and being successful at dating them were two different things. I had an entourage of girls wherever I went, which may have cut me some slack with other guys. But the truth is, I was just one of the girls. The "nice guy." the mall buddy. And as a result I have only 3 significant memories of being with girls from my high school years. They were terrible events at the time. But these days they get me hot, if only for the sheer humiliation, that as I sissy I enjoy reliving.

1. Angela - I tried for two years of high school, biding my time with her. Listening to her talk about her boyfriends or just whomever she was fucking that week. She had a mean streak. Once she even told me she'd totally date me - if only I wasn't so short. It was a classic case of the nice guy putting the pretty, but slutty girl upon a pedestal. I admired her so much ... Well, she finally decided, Junior Year, i think, to just give me the sympathy lay.
I had her topless on her parent's couch and she leaned down to give me a blowjob. She touched my penis. I was rock hard and almost came at the touch. She began to stroke it, but barely, before she looked up at me and asked, "is that it?" I think I nodded. She sniffed out a laugh. (I swear this happened) I could already feel my face flush red. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's pretty small." She let me play with her tits (the first I'd ever touched) a few seconds longer before making a half-ass excuse about not wanting to get caught. I drove home sobbing, humiliated. And yes, I jerked off.

2. Sara - I almost lost my virginity with her. A girl I had worked with at a food court the summer before Senior year. We had my parent's place to ourselves. Thinking we were so in love, I had made every effort to make it the perfect night. There, in my bed under the covers, we began to kiss and undress. My shirt was off as she slipped her jeans and panties down> I slid off my underwear and telling her tenderly that I loved her I positioned myself to enter her and lose my virginity. I wasn't quite hard enough, so I stroked a little. I pushed, but my cock just got more limp. I stroked again, nervously, frantically, but my dick actually got smaller. And in a complete desperate act of panic, I still tried to push it in, flaccid and tiny. It went in almost perfectly, of course. It was as small as my thumb and half as long. So pathetic, i even tried to push and thrust against her, like I could somehow fuck her with it. I barely remember what else happened, not just that night, but that week. I know she somehow made it out of my house in a hurry, apologizing to me all over the place and telling me it was "OK." We broke up a few days later and she had started dating someone new by the time school started back up. I never once saw her breasts. My impotence has reappeared almost constantly since then.

3. Molly - I get my sissy name from her. She was dating a friend of mine Senior year. She was tiny, so sexy she practically oozed it. looking at her now, I'd know right off she was a total freak waiting to happen. But back then, I was clueless. I'd stared wearing panties again only. It was easy enough to hide them and they kept me edging and excited all day at school before I'd get home and jerk myself all over the panties. It was my routine. Except the day I drove my best friend and his girl home from school. I dropped him off first and expected her to get out with him. She didn't. So, I shrugged and drove her home next. But halfway home she asked me to pull over in a quieter, undeveloped part of her neighborhood. Before I could park, she was practically in my lap, kissing me, tugging at my shirt, grinding me. Mumbling something about always wanting me and wanting to do me right there in the car. (I blame the pot). I was happy to oblige, more than ok with betraying my friend as I pulled her shirt up over her head, but then I freaked. I was wearing fucking panties. Fuck! She was going for my belt, so in a panic, i told her "no time!" and i proceeded to grind her on the bulge of my pantied dick under my jeans. Thankfully she just grinded me for a while, then helped herself along my reaching into her shorts. But once she resumed grinding, I couldn't take it, the slippery feeling on my penis from the silky panties and I couldn't hold back. I grunted (almost put my thumb in my mouth) and jetted hot, soaking wet cum into my jeans. After what seemed like an hour of silence she reached to my fly and before my brain could catch on she had my pants unzipped and cum all over her fingers. She stared at the light blue panties, then at me and asked "Oh my god, are you wearing panties."
I made some excuse or lie and got her home as fast as I could. I avoided her for days after that. Not that it mattered. She got engaged to my buddy in college. But I did see her again ... later. I also found out much later on that in addition to being the only girl in high school I know of with nipple rings, that she also loved anal sex and had been doing it with her cousin since they were 14. A freak like her might have loved to play with a pantyboy. If only I'd been cooler about it. I'll never know now.

It started ...

2008-07-29T17:51:00.000-07:00

I mean, really started when I was twelve years old. My parents had gone out of town for a week. I don't remember or care why anymore and I doubt I did then.
I was already at the point where I had begun sneaking around the house whenever I could be alone. Pawing through mom's underwear drawer. Trying on bras and high heels. Finding items I hoped she wouldn't miss, I began a tiny collection of my own. I had shoplifted a pair of panties (finally a pair of my own! I'd never felt right with hers, that was crossing a line. I knew it even then.), lacy little things. Soon, I graduated to nylons and mom's baskets of discarded fabric and old clothes. With them I fashioned skirts and tops for myself to parade and prance around in, in front of my parents' full-length bedroom window (also where I could see their cars approaching for a quick retreat to my room). I imagined myself so much more sexy and stylish than I'm sure I actually was.
But once my parents went out of town, I knew I'd have the chance to step things up even more. Mom left me and my brother in the care of Stacy, a pretty 17-year-old friend of the family that I'd been crushing on for years. Stacy was nice to us, especially my little brother. I'd been counting on that fact, hoping she would keep him and herself distracted with little kid crap; board games, Nintendo, whatever, while I went off to my room to "get sexy" as I called it. It took a few days. All I managed to get away with was shaving my legs. I had never done it before and for a whole day, the feeling under my pants of smooth, hairless legs was making me so horny. Plus after two nights of peeping on Stacy undressing and me sneaking late night peeks at the Sears bra ads, I was near my boiling point. I left Stacy and my brother downstairs, playing Monopoly and snuck into my parents room (where she was staying that week). I grabbed a pair of her used panties and a bra (and the full length mirror), ran them off to my room, stripped down and put the lingerie on.
I posed in the mirror like crazy, feeling my legs, pouting and prissing around. Then I got my balloon falsies from their hiding place. I noticed that Stacy's bra was smaller than mom's. Thinking of her tiny breasts made me even harder. I began to feel all over myself. My young, tiny cock tented the pretty peach colored panties. And I rubbed it. The satiny material (much smoother than the lace of my shoplifted panties) gave me a sensation that was so new and exciting. Positioning the mirror to face the bed, I got up on the mattress, straddling my pillow. I leaned forward, now on hands and knees. My pantied penis rubbing the pillow as i wiggled and thrust my hips across it over and over. The feeling on my dickie was so intense, made my ears hot, made my tummy tingle. "I'm sexy, I'm so sexy, i moaned. It was like the best feeling tickle ever. It made my stomach seem almost queasy, but it felt nothing but good. My eyes glazed as I watched myself grind the pillow. The zipping, swishing sound of my borrowed panties humping that pillow.
I leaned up, still slipping my penis against the pillow. I popped my thumb in my mouth and began to squeak and squeal. Upright now, humping the pillow. Still moaning, "I'm so sexy, I'm a girl .. a GIRL"
Then I heard it, a spurt noise. So loud it shocked me. Then two more. And just as I looked down, the sensation hit me. The tingles, the trembling, the overwhelming body sensation flood of my first orgasm. With no control. My penis simply shot burst after burst into her panties and I couldn't make it stop. The head still so sensitive as I pulled down Stacy's panties to watch my penis twitch the last few tiny drops of cum out. I simply stared in joy and excitement. Until it got really quiet. Too quiet in fact. I looked up from my daze at my bedroom door. Left cracked open in my haste. And I saw her shadow swiftly and almost noiselessly disappear like a shot down the hall and I heard her feet tiptoe back downstairs.
I cleaned up and went to bed (over an hour early) the next day we said nothing about it and the day after that my folks came home. I saw her many times after that, and strangely it was never uncomfortable. Maybe I imagined seeing her at all. Strange though that she had left another pair of panties and a bra in our basement laundry room the day she went back home. I always chocked it up to good luck on my part.

2008-07-28T17:19:00.000-07:00

I waited

... as long as I possibly could. I put if off over and over. But there's no denying who I am anymore. A sissy. A slut. A tinyclit harlot.

A whore for cock.

It feels like I've been waiting for years for this. I've never had a full week at home, with my wife away. Seems like sometimes I never get a moment's peace. It isn't true of course, i get plenty of time alone, but rarely enough time to feel safe to explore the fantasies; the nasty naughty places on the Internet that I've tried too long to suppress. Beautiful women with giant silicone breasts and throbbing hard cocks; sensual crossdressers all natural, smooth and feminine dolled up and loving it; pretty twink boys in panties. All of them spurting into their hands, onto partners, onto themselves. Lubed up. Taking cock so deep, loving it. At first I had managed to convince myself it was them that turned me on. The shemales, trannygirls, crossdressers, sissies. But I wasn't fooling anyone. I didn't fool myself.

I envied them, wanted to be them. I always have.

But when she left town for a week, not even I could predict what I did.
No sooner was she at the airport, than I was off the the mall, in search of heels, a wig, makeup, bras, panties, skirts and tops. In a whirlwind of excitelent and cash I was in and out of the mall in a matter of an hour. I know the looks I got from the clerks, the girls at Victoria's, the wig kiosk, the makeup booth. I didn't care. I needed to get home.
And shower. Without thinking of how I'd even explain it to her, I shaved my legs completely, my cock and balls were soon hairless and my armpits as well. I had lost reason, common sense. I was on a mission, I was satisfying a craving that had been aching in me for years. I couldn't stop touching my new, smooth, hairless clitty. even as I dried off from the shower. Even as I lotioned my legs and painted my toenails. Even as I applied the wig and makeup and decided on my first night's panties and slipped on my skirt, I couldn't stop stroking, fondling touching my new sissy body.
Thank goodness somewhere in my shopping rush I picked it up. That beautiful dildo. It had been so long since I owned one (and I always got rid of them out of fear) Long, so much longer and fatter than my own cocklet. I wanted to suck it, imagining it the real perfect cock I wanted to taste so badly. But more than that I needed it in my ass, my tight sissycunt.
I rushed to the bedside table and lubed that gorgeous, hard, synthetic cock like I was giving the world's most enthusiastic handjob. I thanked god for suction cups as I stuck it to the bathroom tile wall, dropped my panties, lifted my skirt and prepared to be fucked. Gripping my flat tits through my bra, I moaned loud as I pressed the cockhead to my long-neglected entrance. It slipped in; tight but so easilly. And I pushed inch after inch. Slowly, firlmyand deep- so deep. Once it was in, i lost control. Slowly building up speed as I slid that dildo in and out of me. Moaning, squealing "fuck me" over and over I obliged myself until I was shuddering in excitement. Pouting my ruby red lips as I built to orgasm. Building, building within me so fucking fast. And with one squeal, I popped the dildo out of me and released thick jets of hot sperm. Cum that splashed my pretty painted toenails and the tops of my open-toed platforms.
I was spent. And I fell asleep mere minutes later, thumb in mouth, fully dolled up, my toes slick with cum.
What a night.