Inspiration

The inspiration for Monica, the wife in my forthcoming short story, He's The Bride, was inspired by this image:

Source | sissy likes

And this image:

Source | Sissy Couture

Book News

First, I updated the cover for Room & Board. The original cover depicted Amanda. The new cover, below, depicts Jamie dressed as a French maid. 

Second, and hopefully more exciting, I have just submitted a short story to Amazon for publishing on the kindle. It should be available later tonight or tomorrow. It's called He's the Bride, it's about 18,000 words, and is about a couple that had some trouble consummating their marriage on their wedding night. 


An excerpt:

“Angela,” she spoke, stepping back to look at me over from feminized head to feminized toe.

“What?”

She was slowly walking around me, was behind me, stepped closer. “Angela,” she said again, softly, almost in my ear. “Andrew is a man’s name. You’re not a man.” 

I opened my mouth to protest, but the words died when I looked at myself across the room in the mirror. How could I say I was a man when I looked nothing, absolutely nothing like that. Nothing. Worse, while she may have been saying I was not supposed to be a man tonight, I felt an undertone of a more serious accusation. That I was not a man. Period. Ever.

“Angela,” she said yet again at a whisper, “look at yourself, you’re a sissy girl.”

Shock, shame, practically dripped off my face. Sissy? The word was like a slap, hurtful, painful, but who was I do deny it? I was WEARING BRIDAL LINGERIE! Was I supposed to say, no, you’re wrong, I am a man? Really? Dressed from head to toe in satin, nylon, lace? No, dear mother-in-law, your daughter’s husband, the one you milked, the one you dressed, the one you made submit, no, no, you’re wrong, he’s really a man.

That was a lie. It may have been true three weeks ago, it may have been true three hours ago, but not now, no longer. I had surrendered to her, surrendered my masculinity, what little of it I had, my manhood, however pathetic it was. And she knew, that was the worst, she knew, Judith knew. She fucking knew!

“You’re afraid,” she walked back in front of me.

“Yes,” I shook my head in disbelief. Of course I was afraid!

“You’re afraid to admit it.”

“Admit it? Admit what,” I asked, confused by what she meant. 

She smirked. Reached out to me and let her hand touch between my legs, through the two layers of satin, nylon, through the two pairs of panties. I wanted to jump away from her but knew better. And then, as soon as her hand touched me, I realized it, what she was showing me. I was straining against the inner layer of satin, my penis, tucked backwards, was nevertheless throbbing, filling with blood, trying to grow, to become erect. I was…

“Afraid to admit you like being a girl, Angela.”

Here is the cover:

This is my first story to be exclusively published only as an e-book. I'll post and link when it is available. For now, it will be Kindle only because I'm not a Nook fan, but I'll have it there, eventually. 

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.

Asinine Behavior

She was out of town this week, Monday through Thursday, for work. There was no real naughtiness while she was gone, besides some flirting that she told me about when she was back in her hotel room at night and we'd talk on the phone. Just hearing about flirting was enough to excite me.

Not that I could do anything about it, the chastity cage saw to that, something she asks, or pretends to ask-her requests are close to orders in my mind-me to wear from time to time. Especially when she's out of town, like in Dallas, when she knows I'm most likely to want to indulge in self-pleasure. That's when she most wants to deny me, letting the tension build and build until she comes home.

So I cooked her dinner last night while she vented about some problems she had on her trip, a personality conflict with one of her co-workers who started the week by criticizing her for having a glass of wine at dinner, then the next day chastised her for running alone in the morning. He apparently mistook himself for her father or her significant other, it would seem. Trust me, Emily needs no protector. She's a confident, secure, intelligent adult woman. She does not need to be patronized by a co-worker thinking he is her protector.

His asinine behavior came to a head on Wednesday night when he again chastised her for staying out after dinner at a club some people were going to. You're flirting with that guy, he scolded her (harmless flirting, at that.) You're in a relationship, he said.

To which she responded, love her for it, "Yes, Richard, I'm in a relationship. And when I get home I'm going to tell my lover two things. First, what an ass you are. And second, all about the guy I was flirting with. And then we'll have the best sex we had in months."

I almost spit out my mouth full of wine when she told me that. She was behind me, her hand on my hip. And she said, was I right, Sara?

Well, she was right, he is an ass.

And we did have the best sex we had in months. Thanks to a couple of things. My mouth, and the hours I spent licking and kissing and tasting her, and a dildo, and the way she was able fuck herself with it while I licked her clit and she fantasized about the guy she was flirting with.

In the end, I fucked her, too. It wasn't just the dildo. I just fucked her after she'd cum a dozen time from my tongue and the fake cock inside her.

I fucked her after she whispered in my ear, "I'm soaking wet from all his cum, Sara, now I want to feel my sissy inside me."

Luckily I fucked her AFTER she'd cum a dozen times because I was only inside her for maybe twenty seconds. That's all it took for her girl, me, to squirt.

"Such a sissy," she whispered when I exploded, "so pretty, so soft, so small, so quick."

Barnes and Noble Nook

I've gotten some requests to publish my stories on another e-reader besides just the kindle. So, over the weekend, I've started publishing my stories on the Barnes and Noble Nook. Links are to the left for the first four. The other two should be live in a couple of days.

The Exam

I cleaned up and published my short story, The Unexpected Exam, as an Amazon Kindle book, now titled simply, The Exam.

The book is available here and is just $0.99

This is NOT an exclusive Kindle only (I've yet to do one of those), because the story is available on Fictionmania. I don't sell enough copies to quit my day job and write erotic transgendered fiction full time, perhaps because none are exclusive yet, but I sell a fair number of copies of my stories.

You may find this odd, endearing, ironic, poetic, or romantic, but I'm saving the proceeds and intend to use them to buy a very special woman a very, very special gift (something measured in carats given upon the asking of a certain question that I plan on spending about $5,000 on. I'm about 35% of my way towards my goal (you do the math.)

This is NOT a request that you buy the stories that are available for free elsewhere, just a report on what I'm doing. Obviously some people like the Kindle books, based on my sales, so I'm telling you this just to let you know.

And yes, it's weird for me to let people know of things I have available for sale. I'm not much of a salesgirl, so it isn't very natural for me. Then again, what the hell, it's a free market and if people are willing to pay, I'm okay with that (and okay if they are not willing to pay, too.)

I was originally hoping to monetize the blog with google ads, but google decided my blog was "mature" thus not worthy of ads. Yea, fuck off, google.

Anyway, love you all.

Room and Board Conclusion on Fictionmania

As promised, here is the link.

Room and Board is Done!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, first things first, the conclusion to Room and Board is done!!!! I have submitted it to Fictionmania and will give you the link as soon as it goes live there.

The entire Room and Board story, including the conclusion, is available as a Kindle book for $3.99.

You can find that here.

I submitted the conclusion to Fictionmania and the entire book to Amazon at the same time. It is only available on the Kindle first because Amazon published it first (they are a money making operation, they move fast. Fictionmania is a labor of love, and moves slower. Much like your author.)

So, you can wait a day or two and read it for free on Fictionmania or buy the whole think on Amazon, or do both, if you'd like to support my writing.

Again, I committed to publishing it for free on Fictionmania, and as soon as it hits the Fictionmania servers, it will be there for free. But, I'd love it if you bought a copy to support my writing. I don't claim to be the best author writing transgendered fiction, but I think I'm pretty good and a story that long is worth the few bucks. Same goes with A Change in Our Marriage.

That said, even if you don't buy it, I'd love, love, love for you to leave a review on Amazon. Here I'm not begging for a positive review, just a review. I'd love it if reviews were all positive, of course, and I think they would be, but that's your call.

So my pets, go enjoy!!!

Sara

Room and Board News

I like to tease. Check back later today for news on the conclusion to Room and Board. You won't be disappointed. Trust me.

Alamo Preacher

I just want all my followers to go read and follow Alamo Preacher. Alamo was one of my huge inspirations to start writing.

Someone asked me what stories I liked. Well, Alamo's story, The Path of Least Resistance was probably the story that MOST influenced me to write.

So, um, go read and follow Alamo's blog and go read The Path of Least Resistance.

Sara

A Change In Our Marriage

I published A Change In Our Marriage as a Kindle e-book. 

It is on Amazon, here. 

Yes, a similar cover to The Photo Shoot, I know. I liked it, though, so, well, I guess that's one of the cool things about self-publishing. I get to decide! 

I'm not asking you to buy it, but there it is for those of you who want to own a Kindle copy.

I'm still working on the last chapter to Room and Board, which, as you know, will be published on fictionmania when it is done (it will be an e-book, too.)

Any questions, loves, email me.

I love this picture. It might inspire a story.

From: My Cuckold Tumblr

FOR SALE: A Short Story by Sara

Do you like my writing? Do you wish I'd do something a little different?


I love your writing, but I wish you'd do a scene where...


You all know I have a certain style. And I write about the things I want to write about.


But would you like me to write a story about YOU in a scene where YOU set the parameters?


Oh, would I EVER!


Well, taking inspiration from Susannah Breslin, I've decided to create a custom-made, 1,000-word (or a few hundred words more if the mood strikes) short, short story ("flash fiction") for a special person.


Wait, what's "flash fiction"?

Basically, it's a short short story. Wikipedia says: "Flash fiction is a style of fictional literature of extreme brevity." It's the wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am of fiction. This one will be 1,000 words long.

OK, how does this work?

Send me an email describing your short short story idea in 100 words or less. For example: "I would like a story that features me and my wife, where I am dressed like a hooker and eat ice cream all day and I would like the story to end with me bent over a table and screwed silly by a man." 

In your email, include what amount (in dollars) you'd like to pay for the story. At this time, you can send in only one email and only one story idea. 

I decide how much I'll pay for it? Wassup with that?

I thought I'd let the market set the price. Or however a business person would say that. This is an experiment. What's a story written by me, staring you, worth to you? Let's find out!

That's cool. Will you pick my idea?

Out of all the submissions, I will pick only one story to write, for now. I will announce which story I've chosen as soon I chose one (leaving out your name, of course, this is all anon unless you tell me otherwise.) If your story idea is picked, you will receive an email stating that your story has been chosen. (If your story idea is not picked, you will NOT receive an email stating that your story has not been chosen, you'll know because it will be announced on my blog.) We will arrange a payment method (PayPal.) 

After that, I will write a short short story based on your idea. Finally, I will email you the 1,000-word story in PDF document within 3 days. The PDF will include a cover page with a photo (like my Kindle books) with a title and the author (that's me.)

That sounds awesome, but who are you?

I'm an author, blogger, writer, erotic fiction writer, fashion girl who has written some pretty good fiction found on www.fictionmania.tv under the name Sara Girl or Sara Desmarais.

Hey, can I read a story you wrote?

Sure. Go read "A Change in Our Marriage" or "The Unexpected Exam" or finally, "The Photo Shoot".

One more question. Who else will read the story?

Not a soul, it is just for you. It will not be published anywhere else. I promise. This is just for the winner, and the winner alone.

Wait, sorry, one more question again. Does this mean I can tell people I wrote this story?

No. I will remain the author of the story. Technically, the copyright of the story will belong to me. Metaphysically, the spirit of the story will belong to you. Any future use of the story must be agreed upon with me prior to usage. The story cannot be resold. It is a special thing and should be treated accordingly. But as I said, I will not post it or publish it or do anything else with it, either. 

I WANT A STORY!

*No refunds, revisions, or layaway plans available. 

Mother-in-Law's Visit

Okay, now that I put the Room and Board controversy to bed, my story Mother-in-Law (which is on Fictionmania) is out in a Kindle edition (retitled, Mother-in-Law's Visit.)

See it here on Amazon.

Room and Board-The Kindle Controversy

I'm glad I stirred up some controversy before making any decisions. That gives me time to hear from my readers and my friends.

A reader asked Vickie Tern (to whom I owe immense debts for listening to me over the years, for inspiring me, and more important, for editing for me) what she thought about publishing the last chapter to R&B as a pay story. 

Vickie thinks there is an implicit contract for me to finish and publish the story on fictionmania.tv:

It does seem to me a breach of the social contract, a form of bait and switch, since the story was posted on a free site, no others there have ever required conditional further access of any kind, and that condition wasn't announced at the outset. Pay-per-view sites will often do that, suck em in, then sock em.  But that's what they do.  Readers have a right to expect that an unfinished story on a free site will be finished accordingly, barring the author's death, self-loathing, or wavering attention span.

I take to heart Vickie's thoughts, so I am going to take Vickie's advice. When R&B is done, it will be published on fictionmania.tv from day one. 

I will also publish the complete story as a kindle edition, the entire R&B series as one book. For those of you who buy those kind of things, it will be there. 

A word of caution, the story is not yet done! But when it is done, it will be on fictionmania.tv

Is this okay with everyone?

Room and Board

I'm a bad girl. Why? Because I should not be giving you a tease of the final chapter of Room and Board until it is done. But at least I'm writing it.

I was stuck, why I could not finish the story.

I've been sick, a wicked cold for like two weeks.

Well, one day last week, one night, really, I was coughing and tossing and sniffling and turning and at like 3:00 in the morning, unable to sleep, inspiration struck me.

It came to me how to finish the story.

I won't tell you what happens, yet, because I'm writing, but I decided to write the last chapter from Lisa and Amanda's perspective. A stupid literary change, the first nine parts were told from Jamie's point of view. Well, switching the last part to Lisa/Amanda's has inspired me to write, to finish, to conclude.

I'm up to 6,000 words, which is something. I have more to write, then I have to go back and re-read it, then edit it.

But I'm writing.

I don't know when it will be done, certainly not in the next couple of weeks, but it will be done sooner rather than later.

Kindle

Answering a couple of comment questions regarding Kindle books.

1. I am working on a story that will be published on the kindle only. Actually, two stories. I'm not sure which will be kindle only. One is the conclusion to Room and Board, the other is a new story.

2. Will stories be published in other formats for non-kindle folks? If I knew how, maybe. Ah, the joys of self-publishing. The best I can say for now, is that Amazon has a kindle program that works on both Macs and PCs, so you can read kindle stories even if you don't have a kindle.

Three Weeks in Dallas Kindle Book

I compiled all the Dallas posts into a kindle book which is now available from Amazon, if you're into that kind of thing. That's the cover, above, and the link to the book, below. The posts read in order, from the first, to the last. No images, though.

See/buy it here

The Photo Shoot - Now on the Kindle

As a test, a small experiment on how I may release my next story, The Photo Shoot is available for the Kindle from Amazon. I priced it at $2.99 (huge internal debate between $1.99 and $2.99 for a story that is available for free.)

As you see, it has a cover, one I designed myself (like all legitimate, I bought the rights to use the photo).

The link to the book.

It has sold two copies and is currently #117,362 on the Kindle best seller list.

I am writing a story called The Affair and am probably going to release that one as a Kindle only book. 

Why, you may ask? Well, I think I'm a good writer and, as far as transgender erotica, I think I'm a really good writer, one of the better, or at least unique, authors.

And quite frankly, I'd like to make some money for my writing. 

Not all of it, the blog is the blog and I love to write and post things here as well as on fictionmania.

But, I think that some of you would pay a few dollars for a story of mine.

We'll see.

Just a test, just an experiment. 

You don't have to buy The Photo Shoot, that's going to stay available on fictionmania. But if you'd like the Kindle version, please head over there and pick up a copy. 

Regardless, please feel free to leave a review of the book over on Amazon, even if you do not buy a copy.

And let me know here in the comments what you think about publishing a book that way, for this or a future project.

Thanks, loves!

The Bet

When I got to her house, I found a bustier and panties on a hanger in the hallway, draped over a lap. Next to it were stockings and mule slippers.

"Be at my house at 7, I'm paying off the bet tonight," Emily's text that afternoon had said.

"Seriously?????!!!!!!"

"Yea, seriously, 7 sharp."

Fuck, fuck, fuck, I thought, holy fuck, yes!

The bet was something stupid, almost comical, but I'd won. The stakes? If she won, I had to buy her a case of this wine she really liked.

If I won, I, and I can't believe she agreed, I got a blow job!

Yes, sissy that I am, stood to win a blow job from Emily.

To completion.

Giggle.

I won. I won, I won, I won, I won, yeah me, I WON!

But I still bought her the wine, anyway.

That was a month ago, by the way, my victory.

Do you think the rest of the afternoon was one of my most productive?

Er, no.

"Look in the hallway when you get here, then come find me," Emily's text at 6:45 said.

I was shaking, fucking shaking, the rest of the drive to her house.

There in the hallway was the lingerie. Fuck was it pretty and soft and delicate and tender and I wanted to wear it the instant I saw it.

Her guest room was just off the main hall; that's where I kept my boy things, my suits and other things that I'd leave at her house. The male things. She didn't allow my male things in her room, the things there were my feminine things, Sara's things.

I undressed quickly, the boxes with my self-adhesive breast forms were on the top shelf of the closet in the guest room. Emily had thought of that. She was so sweet like that, so demanding like that.

I dressed, hurried, but careful, shedding my male self adopting my female self, with practiced ease, applied light makeup, tussled my long hair, easily making it look feminine, becoming Sara, living Sara, breathing Sara.

She was waiting for me in her bedroom, the vixen, the temptress, the seductress, the bitch.

She was waiting for me, sitting on the edge of her bed, in black lingerie, looking sinister and expecting and dominant and I suddenly understood that she was going to pay, but pay her way.

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in," she chuckled, crossing her nylon covered legs. "A pretty little sissy for me to play with."

I laughed, an excited, hungry, needy laugh, the laugh of a male, sissy or not, about to get a blow job.

"Do you find this amusing, dear?"

"A little," I admitted, taking a step towards her, my panties at face level.

"Oh, no, no, no, my pet, I'll pay up, but don't you even think that I'm going to get on my knees like a common whore," she scolded me, at the same time carefully humiliating me, reminding me that I spent hours of my life on my knees, serving, licking, worshipping her.

She scooted back on the bed, knelt, patted the spot in front of her. "Here, pet, here, lie here, submit to me."

I did as she asked, no, did as she ordered, the shift was not subtle, it was telling, obvious. I was beneath her, literally, figuratively, I was her pet, I was her sub, I was her prize. She was the top, not me, in many ways, in all ways.

"You know, my pet, it's kind of ironic, that even now, even like this, you're still such a sissy, you're still such a girl, you're still so soft and so sweet and so pretty, even with this," she reached out and touched me through the soft panties, "even with this, even like this," she lowered her voice, almost whispering, barely audible, leaned forward till her mouth was just hovering over me, "you're not a man."

"Oh, fuck, Emily," I shook as she opened her mouth and ran her tongue over the outline in the panties, "oh, fuck, oh fuck."

"That makes it all the better, all the more exciting, all the more pleasurable, doesn't it? It's hardly a blow job because even like this, you're not a man, you're a sissy."She licked again, ran her tongue over the bulge, over the feminized sex, like a clit, not a cock.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh," I bit my lip trying to quite the scream her light movement, her words, her scent caused to form in my throat.

"What's underneath these panties, sissy," she toyed, running her fingernails over me. "Do you have a cock for me to play with? Because all I've been thinking about all day is giving a blow job and feeling a big, thick cock in my mouth."

My mind was struggling, male versus female, masculine or feminine, boy or girl. Emily took the waistband of the panties in her fingers, licked her lips, looked me in the eye.

"I want to taste cock, Sara, I want to taste cock," she hummed as she slowly peeled the panties downward.  "Just like that picture I sent you yesterday, I want to suck cock, I want to suck cock." She finally pulled them down over me and my erection jumped at the freedom and she licked me and ran her tongue from the tip to the base.

"You know, don't you, how badly I want it?"

"Yes," I struggled to stay still, struggled to keep from grabbing her head and forcing it on me, to devour me.

"How badly I want to suck cock?"

"Oh god, fuck, Emily."

"I want to suck cock," she said again as I shook with desire.

"You want it too, don't you sissy?"

"Yes, Em, yes, god, yes."

She licked me again, from the base to the tip, slowly and seductively and cruelly.  Her mouth was poised over the tip, so close, tongue out, so close to taking me.

"Do you know," she licked the tip.

"How much it turns me on," she swirled her tongue around it.

"To hear that you want," she opened her mouth while she looked me in the eyes with my head off the bed, begging her silently to do what she wants to do.

"To suck cock, too," she growled and lowered her head and took me into her mouth which was so wet and so warm and so rare.

"Emily," I huffed and puffed as the current shot through my pelvis outward to my chest and my arms and my legs and I tried to form the words to deny what she said but could not, would not, so distracted and excited and hurt as I was by the very sensation of her mouth on me, taking me, touching me.

"It's so exciting," she swallowed, "to know my sissy," she lapped, "want's to suck, too."

"Emmmmmmmmmm," I shook as waves of pleasure raced through my body.

"To know you want to taste a man."

"Ohhhhhhh," I groaned, trying to, not wanting to, unable to say no.

"To lick a man."

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm."

"To taste a man."

I breathed over and over, hyperventilating, struggling, physically, mentally.

"I get so wet, sissy, when I imagine a MAN in my mouth and I get so wet when I know you dream of the same thing, too."

"Uhgh, ugh, ugh," I panted.

"Not yet, Sara," she said and I looked down and realized I was no longer in her mouth, "not yet."

"Please, Emily, fuck, please," I shook, the urge to cum so strong, so strong."

"Hmmm, say it, just once, I want to hear it, just once, please, say it just once."

"Emily, please..."

"Say it, Sara, just once..." Her mouth was poised over the tip again, ready, open, close.

"Em..."

"It makes me so wet..."

"Ohhhh..."

"I want to suck cock, Sara," she swirled her mouth on me.

"Oh, fuck, oh fuck."

"Say it, Sara, say it just once."

The thing is that I don't want to suck cock, I never want to suck cock, I DO NOT WANT TO SUCK COCK...

but if there was a man there, just then, just at that moment, i'd open my mouth and stick out my tongue and beg and beg and beg to taste him and lick him and feel him inside me.

"I want to suck cock," I said as softly as I could and she lowered her mouth and took me inside her and let me go again.

"That's a good girl, now say it again."

"I want to suck cock," I said louder and with less conviction but more need and more urgency and more desire.

"That's is sissy," she said and took me into her mouth.

"I want to suck cock."

And she sucked and sucked and....

A great spasm swept over me and I exploded as she had me, the tip of me, held in her mouth, I exploded, cock on her lips and on my lips and in my brain and in her mouth, cock, wrong and forbidden and nothing I EVER wanted to do but admitted I wanted to do and dreamed about and fantasized about pined for and needed and wanted...

And then she was on top of me kissing me, touching me, possessing me and making me taste and eat and swallow everything that came out of me and into her and back into me.

Cock, cock, cock.

Oh, fuck, Emily, fuck.