Love is Real

Love

Love is real, real is love
Love is feeling, feeling love
Love is wanting to be loved

Love is touch, touch is love
Love is reaching, reaching love
Love is asking to be loved

Love is you, you and me
Love is knowing we can be

Love is free, free is love
Love is living, living love
Love is needing to be loved

                    - John Lennon

I've known those lyrics for decades, but I never understood them until I fell in love with my lady. I never knew it was possible to love someone so deeply and completely. I thought it was just words by an amazing songwriter. Now, I know better.

Since this is a sex blog, that's what I'm going to focus on in this posting. However, the reader should know that this is representative of but one facet of the shimmering diamond that is our love.

We spent Friday afternoon together, going to a beautiful nearby garden before the rainy weekend started. We visited that garden early in our relationship, and ended the evening making love for the first time, so it has a special meaning for us. This day, after our visit we made love again. Passionate, intense, naked love that was extremely gratifying for both of us. It had been over four days for her, which is a long time for her to go without an orgasm. For me, the counter had reached twelve days. It had been a busy week that kept us both exhausted, and last week you'll recall that I didn't have an orgasm. Oddly, towards the end of the week, my sex drive seemed to wane. It was like 'the boys' had given up trying, and I wasn't feeling a strong urge. 

That changed rather quickly when we disrobed and climbed into my bed. The merest touch of her hands on my skin was enough to set off a DEFCON 1 alert, and within seconds I was ready to launch.  We kissed and stroked, I suckled her magnificent breasts and she tenderly bit and sucked on my nipples, which I love. She spent quite a bit of time orally tending to my cock. It felt fabulous. I have difficulty climaxing that way. I require rather vigorous stimulation, and cannot get past being concerned for her comfort. Regardless, the feeling is incredible. We then  moved into a sixty-nine, and I worshipped her glorious pussy while she sucked my cock some more. My lady came on my face fairly quickly; an intense, pressure relieving orgasm driven by the long (for her) abstinence. She bid me to mount her, and as she lay on her back I did just that. I was quite ready, very hard and close to the edge. We kissed passionately while I thrusted and looked into her sexy, smoldering eyes. She held her legs open, and seeing that out of the corner of my eyes, I stiffened and came, copiously, intensely, and at length.  We kissed tenderly and giggled like teenagers at the quickness of our session.

On Saturday, I received a new cock cage in the mail, fairly early in the day. It's a 3D printed device from KINK3D, which I learned about after reading Denying Thumpers' Post. I was thus wearing it, in addition to the panties and chemise I had been instructed to have on when my lady arrived. We had some afternoon coffee in hand and proceeded to the bedroom. My lady had purchased for herself a sexy black piece of lingerie that covered her breasts, pussy and not much else, though there were a lot of straps crossing about here and there. Coupled with her silky, dark, unfurled mane, her beautiful, penetrating eyes and that delicious red lipstick, I proceeded to conduct an unplanned stress test on the cage. Fortunately, but inexplicably it did not burst into a thousand pieces. We kissed tenderly, and I caressed her body, kissing various exposed areas of her skin. Her scent drives me wild. Her hands traced lines across the cottony garment that enshrouded by torso, and then outlined the cage through my panties. She pulled them down and inspected, approvingly, this latest symbol of my devotion and dedication to her.

To be clear, I do not need a cage in order to be dedicated to her, any more than one needs a ring to ensure their commitment. The cages that I wear are indeed symbolic of my commitment to her. When we are together, we have fun with them, and I remove it at her pleasure. When I am alone it is comforting to know that I am still hers, always and forever. I have not found a practical way to remain caged 24/7, but I do wear one as often as I can. It helps me feel closer to her. It does also provide an obstacle to a casual self-caress turning into an uncontrolled masturbation session. Although a key is handy, the very act of interrupting the mood to fetch it and unlock is sufficient to break the chain of events.

My lady caressed and teased my pent-up cock. She kissed, sucked and licked my balls. She twirled her tongue around the cage, and even took it into her mouth. The sight of these actions, and the slight feeling that I was able to detect drove me wild with lust for her. She is such a sexy and creative lady, and I love how she is learning more and more about how I tick.  

Given that I was locked up, my lady decided to play with me in other ways. I had assured her that, having climaxed the day before, I was in no danger if I remained chaste this day. At this stage in our lifestyle, my lady consults me on these decisions. I welcome her questions and offer my honest feedback. I told her as much, and added that if and when she feels comfortable making the decision on her own whether to unlock me, I will obediently and happily comply with her decision. That goes for my orgasms. The very thought of giving up control of my orgasms is very erotic. It's a game, but not a game. It carries some amount of responsibility on her part, and I do not want to pressure her into bearing it. However, at her pace, and to the degree she finds it stimulating and rewarding, I am a willing participant. 

She retrieved a rather large butt plug, the very large black dildo, and the harness from my closet, along with a couple of other objects which will be revealed shortly. I inserted the dildo into the harness and then strapped it on to my body, the long ebony dong dangling dangerously above the black cage ensconcing my above average but relatively diminutive cock.  She then lubed my rear passage. It felt so nice to have her fingers encircling and probing back there. The plug went in with a bit of resistance; it had been a while since I'd had something in there, but once settled in it felt nice. 

So, to complete the picture, there I lay, in my chemise, plugged, caged, and with a large cock strapped to my groin, while my lady settled onto my face and I began to worship her delicious pussy. She was very engorged and wet; clear signs of how much she was enjoying our time. She sucked the black dildo while I ministered to her, and although I could not actually see her actions, in my mind's eye I could visualize every flick of her tongue, every movement of her lips around the head of that dark beast.

She decided that she wanted me to fuck her with it, and so after a long, but never long enough session of pussy worship, she lay upon her back. At her behest, I lubricated her back opening, probing with one and then two fingers. I pushed the pink dildo into her, and handed her the other realistic-looking cock that's closer in size to my own. I gently rubbed the black one against her opening, teasing her, and then pushed gently inside. In this position, I normally have more feedback, but the lack of sensation from the penetrating cock led me to proceed cautiously. I asked multiple times for direction on speed and depth, ensuring that all of this was pleasing to her. I got into a rhythm that worked for her, and she started sucking on the cock in her hand. 

I recently listened to a Shameless Sex Podcast that my lady found and shared with me. In it, they talked about how some men - submissive crossdressers in this specific instance - can be driven by lust to want to suck cock, even when in normal situations they are not tempted, and do not consider themselves gay or bisexual. I resonated with that observation, and while watching her suck, I had an overwhelming urge to join her. I asked if I could, and she said yes. She placed it at my lips and kissed it and sucked the head into my mouth, we went back and forth a few times.

The overarching emotion I felt was total love. I would do anything she asked me to, because I trust her and I love boundlessly. She allows, no embraces my own desires, and it elevates our pleasures mutually. I felt completely uninhibited by any of the so-called taboo practices that have filled me with shame and guilt over the years. So, here I was at this point. My own cock locked up tight, a plug in my ass, wearing a chemise, fucking her with a large black cock, and sucking cock with her. Wow.

She directed me shortly thereafter to her breasts, which I alternately suckled, while she worked a finger onto her clitoris, massaging that beautiful organ while being stimulated in all these other ways. Her orgasm was massive, so far as I could tell. I was elated that she had achieved such an intense climax, and honored to have been instrumental (pun semi-intended) in that event. We lay still for a bit, while her black friend remained inside her. Eventually, she had me pull out, and I kissed tenderly, repeating how much I love her.

We unstrapped and removed the various phallic accessories. I put them aside for later washing. I put my panties back on, along with a matching robe. I gave her a chemise and robe to wear, we relaxed with some wine, and then we had dinner like that.  Afterward, we watched a movie, snuggling and holding hands, feeling more deeply in love than ever.

All this, and we're only halfway through the Memorial Day weekend. 

Thanks for reading.

Jen

Counting My Fortune

At times when I find myself navel-gazing too much, It helps to take stock of the many fortunes I have in my life. This is a short post to delineate a sample of them.

First, the love of my life, my lady. She is my world. There are two times in my life: when I'm with her, and when I'm longing to be with her. 

Second, my body. I'm healthy and I am endowed with an good brain and a body in which all parts continue to function nominally without medication.  I am grateful for the luck of the genetic roll of the dice that has thus far not landed on craps.

Third, my loved ones. I still have my mom, and I have wonderful, amazing children.

Fourth, my friends. I don't have a lot of them, but those that I have are deeply regarded and I cherish them.

Fifth, my wealth. I'm not rich, but I am in position to bring a good amount of financial resources into the relationship with my lady, so that when the day comes, we can retire comfortably.

Sixth, the reasonable intelligent, caring majority of people. The news can be horrid and depressing. But in the long arc of history we have a lot of progress to acknowledge, and also the huge amount of opportunity to be better, in countless ways. Intelligent, caring people are the key to continued progress.

Seventh, Joe Biden. Because normal decency and boring politics are seriously underrated.

There's a lot more.  But this is a sex blog, and there's no sex in this one, so you probably already lost interest.

Thanks for reading (if you made it this far).

Jen

Weekend Fun

I am playing catch-up on our activities, as we had a highly active week and weekend, and not a lot of time to write. In the last episode, our heroes were basking in the afterglow of a Wednesday session. On Thursday, we continued the fun, this time at her place.

After a long day of work for both of us, I showered and brought dinner to her house. Do not think me too special for that; it was leftovers that she had prepared the night before at my house. We sat on the deck for a bit. She talked on the phone with a few folks about some important things, I fetched some wine, and positioned my chair so that she could place her beautiful feet on my lap. I basked in the glow of the evening sun and the brilliance of her beauty, gently massaging her legs and feet, looking upon this most beautiful woman. Being in her presence, contacting her skin, I drifted into a submissive state, and cleared from my mind the challenges of a difficult workday. From that moment, and for the rest of the evening, I wanted only to please her in every possible way. After her calls, we had a pleasant conversation to catch up on the happenings of our lives and had dinner.

Afterward, I asked if she wanted to relax somewhere comfortable, nodding to the stairs. We proceeded to her bedroom. While she tended to herself in the bathroom, I stripped to just my pink HT and then strapped myself her to bed (yes, she still had the bondage gear attached), locking my ankles and left wrist. She smiled when she entered, locking my right wrist in place. The feeling of being bound and helpless in the presence of the woman I love and trust with my life is incredible. It was not long before she settled upon my face and my lips and tongue were dancing across her majestic feminine folds. After a while, she turned around and I continued my worship, while she toyed with my restrained cock and balls. As is normally the case, she wanted me inside her and for me to use my hands, and she undid the wrist restraints and unlocked the HT. I helped remove the base ring because it is a bit tricky to do in an aroused state. She alternatively rode my cock while I suckled and gently pinched her breasts and rode my face. It is such a turn-on for me to be of service to her. She came while I was inside her, and I watched her face in love and awe as she rode the wave of a massive orgasm. We snuggled for a while, caressing and kissing gently. I returned home, without locking myself back up, and went to bed.

Friday evening, we ate at my place, and then went to hers to spend the night. I had worn my steel cage all day and replaced it after showing again at the end of the workday. As we were both tired, we went to bed and fell asleep rather quickly. At around 3:00 AM, we found ourselves both awake. One thing led to another and soon I was worshipping her pussy again. My cock was trying to burst its metal prison and started to get a bit uncomfortable. We removed the cage part, but I was too engorged to get the ring off. She stroked my raging boner, with veins bulging, impressed with the extra hardness caused by the ring. She mounted me, and I could tell that she loved how it felt. She came again, gloriously. When things calmed down a bit, I was able to remove the ring, and we slept the rest of the night.

Saturday and early Sunday were busy with things that are not the stuff of sex blogs. On Sunday afternoon, she came over. I had prepared dinner and wanted it all set to make later so we could have some alone time in the bedroom. The whole meal prep task is a bit like foreplay for me. I love pleasing my lady in every way, and that includes making meals for her to enjoy.

Something had been bothering me, and I had difficulty putting my finger on it. Of course, she sensed it immediately, and we had a long discussion. I finally was able to describe it toward the end of the evening, but I will reveal it now. I have no doubt that she loves me deeply. I have no doubt that I love her as deeply. My difficulty is that I sometimes do not love myself as I should. It is important to feel good about yourself, to objectively appreciate your good qualities, and to accept those parts of you that you might wish were not there, or different, recognizing that humans are an evolutionary way point on a meandering route to survival and not a perfectly designed end state. 

For me, crossdressing has been a decades-long behavior, and I do not realistically see it coming to an end any time soon. My lady accepts "all of me," but at the same time I know it is a really, really big ask to have her deal with this part of me. She has been so incredibly supportive, comforting and amazing, and I could not have hoped for a better response from her. Still, I sometimes wish I could just make this part of me go away, to simplify things. I get down on myself about that, and that's how I was feeling.

She wanted to help me feel better and asked what she could do. I asked her to make love to me, and to hold me. I know, those are rather feminine types of responses, aren't they? Well, it is how I felt, so it is what I said. We did make love. She had crotch-less panties and matching bra under her dress, I had white panties under my clothes. We were quickly down to those and not much later we were naked. No toys today. No lingerie, dildos, restraints, or plugs. Just us. It was fabulous. She talked dirty to me, telling me that she was going to come on my face, and I worshipped her body. She sucked my cock, and told me she wanted to taste my cum. She watched as I masturbated, saying other sexy things to me, encouraging me. I told her that I needed her to come first, and so she did, riding my cock while I pinched her nipples, and she rubbed her clitoris on me. I could tell it was a huge one. She rolled over and I entered her in the missionary position. That is normally the way I climax, as I can thrust vigorously that way. 

I suppose that abstaining for a week, coupled with multiple mid-week sessions had me harder than usual, because it felt really good to both of us. In fact, it felt so good to her that she orgasmed again. That has not happened before; her coming twice in one session, and with me on top. Alas, my bigger sex organ, my brain was still not fully resolved of its inner turmoil, and climax eluded me again. That only bothers me for two main reasons. First, my lady wants me to have orgasms. It pleases her when I do. Second, physically, things are getting a bit backed up down there. Maybe during the week, we will have a chance to address that. Otherwise, I may continue my abstinence for another week.

By my count, my lady had five orgasms this week, while I had zero, and so ten for her to one for me in the last two weeks. It feels right to me that she should have some high number for each one of mine. 

Thanks for reading.

Jen

P.S. I added a couple of counters on the left side of the blog. Just experimenting with that.

Yes, It's Definitely Working

I'm in a near constant state of arousal. It seems that my lady is learning to enjoy calling the shots on our sexual activities, and her acceptance of "all of me" has lifted an extraordinary burden from my mind. In addition, lately I've been in chastity almost constantly while awake, other than during shower time and after our little sessions each of the last two nights. I am still not able to sleep well while caged, at least not at this point, but it's ok.  I'm behaving myself.  "Hands off," she told me last night, when I departed her place. "Yes, ma'am," was my immediate reply. The feeling of being caged, knowing that she wears the keys on a chain around her neck, and knowing that I am abstaining as a sign of my devotion and love for her is a feeling that is difficult to describe; I'll use the word "sublime," I think for the first time in my life.  It seems to be a rather haughty word, but it fits.

On Wednesday, I spent the entire work day en femme.  I had recently purchased a pretty "Short Sleeve Floral Tiered Sheath Dress," black with purple flowers from JC Penney, and I was looking forward to wearing it.  I showered, shaved, put on my metal cage, and did my make-up. I'm not so great at make-up, but am getting better, and the process helps me transform into my feminine mindset. A bra, panties, my size C breast forms, platform heels, wig, jewelry and that dress completed the ritual. I guess I looked ok, but I felt really good.  Dressing that way helps alleviate a lot of the stress my job brings.

As the work day ended, I disrobed, removed my make-up, showered, and relocked myself, wearing male clothes, which is how my lady likes to see me.  I think it's too much for both of us at this stage for her to see me completely feminized. That day may come, but I'm happy to be for her what she wants me to be when we're together, and anyway I don't want to wear ladies clothes all the time. I truly like being able to switch between both modes.  It's sort of the best of both worlds.  Oh, and if the day does come for her to see me all decked out, it might be best if we started with me naked, and she helped me dress.  The process of helping, and the gradual transformation would likely be much easier on both of us.

After dinner at my place, she unveiled the purple lingerie she wore under her dress. We proceeded to enjoy a mid-week foray.  I stripped to just my panties and cage, knelt on the floor, and worshipped her body, focusing on her sumptuous lady parts as she sat comfortably on the sofa.  She was very wet and engorged. I was in heaven, and could have stayed there for hours, but she had other ideas. She bid me to fetch the largest dildo I have, a black cock that's probably nine or ten inches long and as thick as you'd expect such a creature to be. I did as directed, but also put on my own purple lingerie as a bonus. Returning to her beautifulness, I again knelt, and started rubbing the cock on her opening, which turned her on even more. I started to push it inside her, gently and slowly thrusting it deeper and deeper.  It needed a bit more wetness, so I licked the shaft as best I could, adding my saliva to her own moistness. I'll admit that it stoked my cuckold fantasies, watching that cock filling her, listening to her moans, facilitating the action with my own mouth. I sucked and licked her as best I could, occasionally adding more saliva to the dark beast that was ravishing her. My own cock, firmly ensconced in its metal cage, was straining for relief and attention, but we were focused on her. 

Being this aroused, I would have done anything that my lady wanted me to do. She decided that my real-life cock was what she wanted, so I uncaged and entered her. We continued in various arrangements. She eventually climaxed while using cock on her clitoris while I watched from below, almost in a trance, alternately looking into her beautiful, smoky eyes and watching her ministrations.  The memory of that scene will remain a long time, and it causes swelling inside my cage. We cuddled after, while my own cock returned to a flaccid state. No climax for me, not until she says it's time. She also told me, clearly, that she has no interest in actually having a third person participate in our love-making. I think that's the right call. We love each other so deeply, we have so much to explore together, and she is all I will ever need. I am hers, always and forever, and I have never been happier.

Thanks for reading.

Jen

It's Working

I underwent a hormone replacement procedure recently. The intent was to increase my energy level and also to sleep better during the night.  As we age, our hormone levels diminish, for the simple reason that there isn't an evolutionary benefit to people who are past their child rearing years to continue to have the urge to procreate. I suppose there is a benefit to the furtherance of our genetic material if the older folks would kindly step out of the way.  Well, I'm not ready to do that, fuck you very much. My lady isn't either, and it was on her advice that I went ahead and scheduled the procedure.  For the first week, I gained no benefit, but rather had some minor discomfort from the incision. For the next week, things were sort of neutral; I wasn't uncomfortable anymore, but also wasn't feeling any benefits.

I would say that things have changed now, and for the better. Last night, a Tuesday no less, we made out like teenagers on the sofa. It was erotic, suckling her breasts while they enveloped the two chastity keys that she keeps on her necklace, knowing one of them was for the device I was wearing. I have been alternating between my steel cage and my pink Holy Trainer, and this night it was HT's turn. We were both quite aroused, but stopped before going too far.  

My lady is still recovering from the weekend. We think she had at least five orgasms, two on Friday, two on Saturday, and one on Sunday. I never thought losing count of orgasms was a thing before. I abstained from climaxing until after her fifth one, but I was quite active with her. I pleased her orally and with penetration, repeatedly. Her climaxes are the highlights of our lovemaking, without question.  I definitely enjoy mine, and I know that she does. too. It's just that my climaxes are fleeting, lasting maybe ten seconds or so, while hers seem to go on for much longer. On the other hand, if I don't climax during our sessions, then I'm just that much more on edge, attentive to my love, and eager to please her the next time. In fact, I'm eager to please her in between, showing her in every way how much she means to me. That's not to say that my love for her is only driven by my sexual urges. No, no, it is far deeper than that. Spiritual, I might say if I believed in that sort of thing. I love her on every level. We are best friends, and we love being together and doing everything together. If we were not lovers (perish the thought!), she'd still be the best friend I've ever had.

The hormone replacement, for me at least, has not diminished my submissive or feminine feelings. If anything, they are amplified, along with my overall sex drive. I don't suppose I should have expected anything different, but I wasn't sure, and it was an interesting observation. I'm not a medical person, so my understanding of the whole hormonal balance thing is elementary. I do know that both men and women manufacture the "male" testosterone and the "female" estrogen, and that balance between them is important. I suppose I was curious to see if the therapy, which changed the balance, might change my desires proportionally. I'm here to claim a single data point in the experiment; the answer is a definite no. The rising tide has lifted all boats. Not only do I feel more sexually energetic as a whole, I also feel  stronger submissive and feminine desires in line with the overall increase in my libido.

My lady reassures me, repeatedly, that she loves all of me, and I believe her. I know it's true. Our recent times together have included my wearing a new animal print chemise with matching panties, and a cute little pajama set - tank top, shorts and a robe, both of which she commented on approvingly, and caressed softly.  After she did so, I pointed to the protrusion tenting my shorts and asked, "do these pajamas make my dick look big?"  She laughed and said, "no, your dick makes your dick look big."  :-)

We are both benefiting from the fortune that has befallen me in that regard. I didn't earn it, but am grateful for having been endowed with a larger than average cock. We fit together very nicely, and it feels so good to both of us when I'm inside her.  I can also last as long as she wants me to. In fact, my issues is generally whether I can climax at all, not whether I cannot hold out until she is satisfied.

That's another thing I've pondered. In most stories and blogs I read about submissives, crossdressers and sissies, they are undersized and subject to prematurely ejaculating. Thus, as the stereotype goes, they are humiliated and embarrassed by their lack of endowment and performance. The feelings wrap around upon themselves, and they get sexually charged by being subjugated by their ladies, to all sorts of predictable ends, including feminization, long-term chastity, servitude, pegging, public exposure, cuckolding, and "forced" bi-sexuality.  I don't read about men with larger cocks who can last for a long time having those feelings or finding their way down the path I just mapped out. It's not a surprise, really, but I do find myself at odds with at least part of that stereotype.

I am, to be sure, a submissive crossdresser. My lady and I have spoken at some length about some of the various aspects of a Domme/sub relationship that includes crossdressing. Neither of us finds embarrassment and humiliation to be appealing. We love, admire and respect each other on every level. Our sex life is an expression and extension of that. We verbalize and physically demonstrate our love while making love, and it is glorious. It happens that my sexuality is closely linked to femininity - worshipping her, submitting to her desires, putting her pleasure first, and feeding my own feminine urges - while at the same time using my masculine endowment to bring us both heightened pleasure.

I've pondered my own sexuality for decades, but have never had a partner who was so open-minded, adventurous, and loving before I met my lady, and thus have never acted other than in a solo fashion, with exaggerated fantasies as my stimulus. She is rather new to this whole aspect of sex as recreation and adventure. Her ex was not, shall be say, open-minded. We are exploring our new world, together. We are not in a rush. We communicate regularly about what works and what doesn't, at what pace we may proceed, and what routes we may explore. It's the journey that matters, not the destination. What is most important is that we are on this road together. Always and forever.

Thanks for reading.

Jen

A Fantasy Weeknight

When he heard the garage door open, his heart skipped a beat, and his excitement grew. Even after all this time together, he still found that the highlight of his day was the moment she walked in the door, because he knew that for the rest of the evening, he would have her to himself and could tend to her every need, mind, body and soul. He loved her endlessly, and there was nothing better than being in her presence. She, likewise, loved him more every day, and grew to cherish their particular brand of marriage, though it had taken some time to see herself the way he did. He poured her a glass of her favorite red wine. Everything else was ready.

He had recently retired, but he was by no means idle. He filled his days with a variety of activities, some of which were for his own physical and mental well-being. He exercised, read books and played his guitar at scheduled times each day, finding that a rigorous schedule was still the most efficient method of accomplishing a lot, and he had a lot to do. He spent hours around the house, doing special projects, fixing things and such. He was not so good at regular cleaning, although he was learning how to be better at it and understood the standards that she required. She actually enjoyed cleaning, so it was not a task that she had transferred to him; at least not yet. However, he did most of the shopping, the laundry, and ironing, by now.

She continued to work, not because they needed the money, but because she loved what she did, and she was exceptionally good at it. She loved helping people feel better about themselves, and she loved the social aspect of her job.

Having loved him from the start, it had taken some time for her to adjust to his feminine side. She was not expecting that when they’d met, because he gave no outward indication at a casual glance. Once you see the signs though, it becomes more apparent. His legs and arms were clean-shaven. In fact, as she soon discovered, he was completely hairless below the eyebrows, and even those were trimmed short and somewhat shaped. He had not tried to hide his nature from her, and he unfurled his colorful flag just as fast as he reasonably could, striving to be honest and open while working to overcome his most dreadful fear of outright rejection and abject disdain. You do not begin a relationship by revealing your deepest secrets, that is simply weird.

Now, she knew of his penchant for dressing en femme, and encouraged it because she loved him, she knew that it made him happy, and she understood how the various threads of his psychological fabric were tightly interwoven. Surely, trying to extricate a single strand would jeopardize the entire tapestry.  No, she loved all of him, as he was. He sometimes would spend most of the day as his feminine alter ego if he had nowhere to be. Or if he did venture out, it might be in clothes that were from the ladies’ side of the store, but androgenous enough that no one seemed to notice. In the evenings, he would change his look, matching her preferences. She loved his masculine side, too, and he loved being what she needed him to be. He would wear something more feminine in the evening if she asked him to, which was a rare but not unheard-of occurrence.

He also wore a chastity device at nearly all times. It helped him avoid temptation, and its presence was a constant reminder of how he had surrendered himself to her, physically, emotionally, and sexually.  She now understood that limiting his orgasms led to feelings that he enjoyed immensely, a near constant state of simmering arousal, and deepened submissiveness.  She saw that he was even more eager and creative in finding ways to please her and make her life easier and recognized the mutual benefit of his servitude.

This day, for no particular reason other than to express his love, he set out to make a special evening for her. Pleasant surprises are an important part of a relationship. He did the meal planning and prepared a list of ingredients he required. Having worked as her assistant in the kitchen, he’d watched and learned. To be sure, his skills, knowledge and creativity were the second best in their household, but he was a far better chef than any other non-professional that he knew.

She had been vegan for years before they met, and while he had not been, he did eat a healthy diet, and so it was easy for him to immediately switch. Her amazing culinary skills quickly made him forget what eating used to be like. His realization of the cruelty surrounding animal-based products cemented his commitment to this new dietary routine. He was now vegan. He’d be anything she wanted him to be. Not only because he loved her, but because he trusted her, and he respected her brilliant mind and empathetic heart.

She walked in the door, and he greeted her with a smile, a long and enveloping hug, and a soulful kiss. He took her coat and bag from her and placed them where they belonged. He followed her into the kitchen, where her glass of wine awaited, shadowed by a fresh bouquet of flowers. She smiled and thanked him. Dinner was simmering, the table was set, the animals were fed, and music was playing in the background; there was nothing to do but be with her while she relaxed and unwound from her day.

She sat comfortably on the sofa, and he knelt before her. He positioned a foot basin, filled with warm, scented water just a few minutes prior, slipped off her shoes, and she placed them in the water. He loved her beautiful, sexy feet, as he did the rest of her, and knew that after standing for most of the day that they would be aching. She feared the aroma from a long day on them would be off-putting. He allayed her concerns with this routine of bathing them. While she soaked, he joined her on the sofa. She needed some time to catch her breath after a busy day, and so he just sat next to her, gently holding her hand. He could almost feel the tension of the day leaving her body.

After a few more minutes, he knelt again, taking one foot onto the towel draped across his lap. He dabbed at it until it was sufficiently dry and repeated the process with the other foot. Moving the basin out of the way, he brought out some lotion, and massaged it into her skin, further softening them and chasing away the tension that remained. They made eye contact, and she smiled. She could not tell who was enjoying this ritual more. When he finished, he reverently kissed the top of each foot and replaced her slippers.

They sat together for a while longer, and then she decided it was time to eat. She sat at the head of the dining room table, and he prepared and served their plates, then sat at the side of the table. As they ate, she related the stories of her day. He listened closely, asking questions, filling in the picture in is mind. She commented on the delightful meal that he’d prepared, and he was pleased that she found it delicious. She asked about his day, and he related the various events. She listened closely and wanted more details because she loved him.

Afterward, he cleared the table and set about to clean the kitchen, which did not take long, as he always cleaned as he went while cooking. “I’d like a bath,” she said to him, “tell me when it’s ready.” She went into her home office to tend to some post-hours business. He quickly finished his kitchen task and proceeded to draw the bath. It was a beautiful large free-standing soaking tub that they had installed in their recently remodeled Mistress Bathroom (Master Bathroom was just the wrong term). It could be accessed from all sides, which was perfect for their arrangement. Setting the water to the correct temperature, he added her favorite bath gel. He ensured the rest of the bathroom was neat and tidy. He set the lighting, lit some scented candles, and changed the music to one of her favorite playlists. He put some towels on the warming rack and ensured that her robe was within reach.

He heard her on the phone with a client as he approached her office, and he waited patiently until she finished. “My love,” he called to her quietly from the doorway, “your bath is ready for you.” She looked at him and smiled. She was getting used to his services and starting to accept the fact that she was deserving, but still she by no means took him for granted. “Thank you, sweetie, I’ll be there in a moment.  Why don’t you put on something sexy, and then you can tend to me in the bath?” It was not a question, it was a gift.

He took leave of her to do as she commanded.  He stripped and went to his special closet, choosing a new pink chemise with matching panties that she had not seen before.  As the garment covered his body, he slipped into a deeper state of submission. He padded into her bathroom, and she caressed his silky fabric approvingly. He slowly undressed her, removing her work attire, and then her undergarments. She stood there wearing only a smile, took his hand and allowed him to guide her into the perfectly conditioned water. At her behest, he fetched another glass of wine, and knelt at the side of the tub while she closed her eyes, sipped and relaxed. She had never been more beautiful as he watched her body soak in the warm bath.

“Wash me, now,” she instructed. She tilted her head back slightly as positioned himself at the head of the tub. He used a cup to pour water repeated onto her hair, careful to avoid it running onto her face. Sufficiently wetted, he gathered a dollop of her shampoo and began to massage her scalp and follicles, tending to her with reverence and appreciation for this high honor. Rinsing her, he repeated the actions with her conditioner. Moving to the side now, he took her each arm in turn and gently washed and rinsed them. She laid her head back, with her eyes closed, reveling in his ministrations. He washed her chest, spending more time than necessary ensuring her breasts were clean. They smiled at each other. The stimulation of her nipples always led to her arousal, and this time was no different. She brought his head forward, he suckled her breasts, and she cooed.

She leaned forward and he scrubbed her back. Then he proceeded to bathing her gorgeous legs and feet.  Oh, how he loved to tend to her body. He could not contain himself, and as he rinsed her feet, he gently took each toe in his mouth and sucked them. She watched him, amused, enthralled and inspired. He was performing over and above his expected duties. It was clear that the more she took charge, the more she required of him, the deeper his submission and devotion grew, and the happier they both were.

She reserved the cleaning of her womanly parts to her own hands, in part for hygienic reasons, but also to tease him further.  He watched her ministrations, reflexively licking his lips. She turned over to her knees and had him attend to one final region. He washed cheeks of her sexy backside, and then worked his hands up and down her intergluteal cleft, focusing repeatedly on her opening.  He circled it with his finger and probed inside it. He pushed inside with one soapy finger, and then a second.  He repeated, while listening to her moans of satisfaction.  “Make sure you get me nice and clean there,” she commanded, “clean enough to eat.” He grew firmer in his cage. He had confessed to her is desire to worship her ass with his lips and tongue, and she had thus far declined. It seemed that this night she would grant him the honor. Another step on their journey. He shook with anticipation as she emerged from the bath and he applied the towel to her fabulous female frame. “Go and turn down the bed, place some pillows in the center. Brush your teeth, and wait for me,” she instructed.

He did as he was told, and she came into the bedroom, naked and beautiful. She kissed him and grasped his caged cock and swollen balls.  “If you do a good job worshipping my ass tonight, I might let you out.” He had not needed the extra motivation. This was yet another fantasy, coming true. She laid on the bed, her gorgeous glutes prominently displayed. He knelt behind her, and softly kissed her cheeks, then more passionately. He licked her cleft, repeatedly, long slow flat-tongued movements that heightened their arousal. He parted her cheeks just a bit more and looked at her opening. He knew the term ass-kisser was derogatory. He was now an ass-worshipper. But it was not an act of humiliation or punishment. It was an act of love, on both their parts. A new way for him to demonstrate his limitless love for her, and a new way for her to accept it.

He kissed her opening, gently and repeatedly, with closed lips, both of them getting used to the feeling. Then, without thought, he opened his mouth and kissed her more passionately. She let out a grateful moan, and it inspired him. He kissed her more deeply, more urgently. His tongue flickered out across her flesh. It circled and darted, checking her comfort level. She shifted, raising her ass a bit higher. He pressed further against her opening with his lips.  He stiffened his tongue and probed, pushing past the opening to the vestibule of her most private region. He wiggled it around and she spoke, “oh, that feels soooo nice.” He pushed further and further, until his tongue was as far into her as it could go. He plunged and swirled, kissed and licked, bathed and caressed her opening. She reached one hand under and began to stimulate herself.  He continued his oral homage as she masturbated. He inserted one, then a second finger into her very wet pussy, sawing in and out at a tempo that varied from that of his tongue. She voiced greater and greater sounds of pleasure as her approaching orgasm gathered strength. Then, like a Tsunami, it crashed upon her. He could feel her convulsions on his tongue and his fingers as her muscles squeezed and relaxed in great spasms of ecstasy.

He continued ministering to her, feeding her pleasure, mindful of her own actions. When her orgasm subsided, and he sensed her hand moving away, he withdrew his fingers and his tongue. She lay in post-orgasmic bliss. He hurriedly went to rinse his mouth and brush his teeth, and upon returning, lay next to her, kissing her face, caressing her body, and sharing the joy that she felt. They moved the pillows, allowing her to lay flat and comfortably. He continued his soft caresses, and gentle kisses. He expressed how much he loved her and thanked her for allowing him to worship her in that way. “It won’t be the last time,” she replied. They lay quietly together for a time, and he realized that she’d fallen asleep. He arranged the covers over her body, removed his lingerie, and lay next to her, watching in awe this most beautiful and wonderful lady with whom he had so totally fallen in love. There would be no release for him this night. Still, he had never been happier than at that moment.

A Fantasy Weekend

It began on Friday in the early afternoon. They both had the day off, but she had some things to do in the morning that did not require his participation. They had discussed the upcoming weekend, and she had sent him a list of expectations and preparations. She provided only and outline of the itinerary, thus allowing her the flexibility to make on-the-fly changes. 

He, having been locked and chaste for coming up on two weeks, was energetic and full of anticipation. He set his preparation with seriousness and focus. He'd waited his whole life for a weekend like this, and he was desperate not to fuck it up. Having confessed his deepest fantasy to her, he looked at himself in the mirror as he shaved and reflected on the direction his life had taken since they'd met. He had known about his submissiveness for practically the whole of his life. He'd suffered heartache and humiliation (not the good kind) because, well, men aren't supposed to be submissive. They aren't supposed to be crossdressers. They aren't supposed to be sissies. They aren't supposed to value the woman's pleasure more than their own. 

She did not see him as submissive when they met. They had fallen in love quickly, and he did his best to be open and honest about his nature from the outset. For someone not used to seeing people in the context of "dominant" or "submissive," what he had to say was not easily internalized. It was only after countless hours of conversation, endless hours of her own research, and hundreds of sessions of love-making that she began to understand him, and something about herself as well.

A beautiful woman in every sense of the term, she also gained great satisfaction from giving, and not only to those whom she loved. She was kind to strangers, to the downtrodden, and to creatures of all species. Her heart opened to those who, like herself, had not been treated well in the past. 

She had not thus far had the benefit of finding a man who would treat her with the respect, love, and kindness that she so deserved. Until she met him. Her life changed that day. The road they were now on was not what she'd ever expected or could even have imagined. But each day, as he expressed and demonstrated his ever-deepening love to her, she felt herself changing inside. She was silly, funny, snarky, and playful and they filled each other with laughter in the kitchen, in the car, and nearly everywhere. She felt safe for the first time expressing her sexuality.  She wore sexy lingerie, she touched herself while he watched. She tied him up, blindfolded him, and bid him to worship her womanhood. As she asserted control over their lovemaking, he surrendered willingly, providing assurances that reinforced her confidence to take them further down the road than either had ventured previously.

"You are the love of my life," he'd said to her. "There is nothing that I would not do to please you, and to make your life better."  She believed him, but she didn't fully fathom the depth of that declaration, nor visualize the possibilities. She'd received his worshipful ministrations, been the beneficiary of a tongue that danced and flitted across her most sensitive and moist regions, taking her on orgasmic journeys to heights she'd never achieved. She witnessed the firmness of his erections whenever he pleased her orally, without any direct stimulation, and understood that his devotion was sincere. Whenever he entered her, he moved in ways to maximize her pleasure. He could go indefinitely, remaining hard and not climaxing, so long as it was pleasing to her. He would stop without climaxing if she so desired.

She wanted to reciprocate, as was her nature. She said to him, "tell me your fantasy, and I will make it come true."  She had a good idea by now what made him tick. She felt him grow harder inside her that time she whispered, "you are not allowed to cum today. Maybe tomorrow."  She heard the moan escape his lips when she bid him to wear lingerie, and then caressed him and told him how sexy he was. She anticipated that his fantasy would be along those lines, pushing the envelope further.

He thought long and hard about what he wanted, what to say. It was a complex question. An easy answer, consistent with the stories and videos easily found on the web, would involve her doing various things to him, the details of which the reader may imagine for themselves. She could tie him up and tease him for hours maybe, or peg him while he was in chastity, or maybe dress him like a maid and have him do her laundry, cleaning, etc. But these were not his ultimate fantasy. Oh, to be sure, they were stories he'd read, and masturbated to. Stories and images that got him off, sometimes. He thought to be careful not to idealize, not to project an unrealistic vision of a "perfect" scene that would playout exactly as he imagined. No, any fantasy-come-true would be different. It would be less of a caricature and more real. There would be uncertainty, nervousness and goofs. They would maintain a sense of humor, and not embody the stoic seriousness that he'd typically found in his browsing. He anticipated that these scenes might one day happen, tailored to the two of them. If she wished. 

That was the thing. What he wanted, more than anything, was for her to see herself as he did. He wanted her to realize and accept that she was deserving of his full and unfettered devotion. He wanted her to embrace the gift he was offering, and to accept, no, to require his humble and earnest service. He wanted that inner voice in her head that whispered negative thoughts to pack its bags and leave for good. He wanted the voice that took its place to say, "you are special, you are amazing, you are deserving. Relax and accept his gift."

He longed to be what she wanted him to be, in every circumstance. A fiancé, soon to be her husband; a sous chef to her executive chef mastery in the kitchen, sharing the experience, assisting her, reveling in the sumptuous meals she so loved creating; a gardening partner, sharing ideas and dreams, shaping them into reality; traveling companions the world over, holding hands and experiencing newness at every turn. The list went on in his mind. Every task, every chore, every whim, every dream, every fantasy she had, he longed to embrace, for they would give him new opportunities to demonstrate the unconditional completeness of his love for her. He did not want her to see this as a responsibility or burden. He wanted her to see it as an opportunity for both of them, and a chance to live a more fulfilling life. Though he'd expressed those desires more than once, it was difficult for her to process and accept. Through repetition and consistency in words and action, the messaging started to get through. 

She was getting more comfortable receiving; she was recognizing the benefits to herself in accepting him as he was. Still, she thought, "I like to give pleasure, too. I like to do things for him that make him happy. I still want to be able to do that."  She had pondered this conundrum at great length, and having done so, she reconciled her thoughts. "Well, he wants to please me in every way. So, if it pleases me at times to have him as my submissive, and to have him do as he is told, he will. If it pleases me at times to have him as my equal partner, so he shall be. If it pleases me to take his burden for a while, and tend to him with lovingkindness, because it's my nature, then he will graciously accept my gift."

So, she decided that this weekend, she was going to take charge. They would be together the entire weekend. She was going to assert her dominance, in her own special way, sometimes commanding his every action, sometimes giving him freedom of choice, and sometimes tending to his body, mind and soul. That was what he wanted. That what what she deserved. He was in her thrall, and it was there that his deepest most sincere fantasy lay.

Thanks for reading.

Jen

Her New Friend

I promised in my last post that I'd write about our adventure last week. We started out slowly and quietly; the two of us naked and embracing under the covers, our legs intertwined, our hands caressing each other and our lips gently locking and releasing in short and erotic cycles. Our warm-up session displayed the deep love we have and served as a beautiful segue from the activity we'd been doing just prior.

We moved on to more heated and intimate activities, but without the toys and props, at least initially.  We arranged ourselves into a few different positions, both of us playing the role of giver and receiver.  One of my lady's favorite positions is when she lies on her back and I kneel next to her.  She is able take part of my cock in her mouth, which she really enjoys, and I can caress her pussy with my fingers.  She gets very wet and engorged when aroused and she loves how I touch her.  I love this position as well, for all the same reasons.  Then, I had an idea.

I excused myself from our arrangement and retrieved the 7.5" realistic dildo that readers will have met a few stories back.  I said, "I brought your new friend out to play."  She smiled.  I placed it at her lips, and she sucked on it for a bit to make it wet. The fact of the matter is, she really didn't need to make it wet, but I thought it'd be fun to offer it to her. It was a turn-on watching her do that, and I'm fairly sure she liked it too.  

Resuming my prior position, she took my cock back in her mouth and I proceeded to rub her new friend over her pussy, and then I pushed it slowly inside her. I worked it gradually and carefully, trying to ensure her wetness lubricated the whole shaft as it penetrated further. Once it was all the way in, I started repeatedly thrusting it into her, gauging her reaction, looking to ensure that it was comfortable and maximized her pleasure.  From her ministrations on my cock and her verbal cues, I'd say I was succeeding.

The only thing about the position we were in is that it's a bit tough on my back and legs, and after a while I felt like I had to change.  We moved into a sixty-nine, with her on top (always).  I brought her new friend to the entrance of her vagina, and while licking her clitoris started to push it back in. The dildo was a little dry, and so I did the logical thing.  I took the head of it into my mouth and got it nice and wet.  I was able to slide it right inside her.  

I have to say, that in many years of reading sex stories, viewing images, and fantasizing about various acts, one that had turned me on more than once was the position in which we were situated; a sixty-nine, with her taking a cock in her pussy and me getting a close-up view while sucking on her clitoris.  Nevermind that this cock was fake; it was real enough for me in this instance, and it really turned me on.  I'm quite confident that it turned her on as well.  I worked the cock vigorously into her while enveloping her clitoris with my lips and gently flicking it with my tongue.  Once I pulled it too far out and it hit me on the face. I opened my mouth and sucked her juices from it, then put it back in. She tastes so good. I felt so submissive and turned-on at that moment, I'd have done anything to please her.

When she came, it was a big one. It went on for a good while as I watched her spasm, squeezing the cock, and I continued to stimulate her orally.  I didn't orgasm that day.  I don't think I should refer to mine as a climax.  I think that her orgasms are our climax because of how much we both love it when she comes.  Mine should be called something else, maybe an aftershock. It's just not as important to me. My lady, my love, my everything feels differently. She wants me to have orgasms. She's happy in a similar way when she makes me cum as I am in the reverse. 

I do of course enjoy my orgasms. I would also be happy to cum if for no other reason than she wants me too.  It's just sometimes, I can't get my head in the right space, and the orgasm eludes me.  Early in our relationship, my inability to climax weighed on both of us. She felt as though it was her fault, somehow. Only through extensive conversation and reassurances has she come to realize that it's all in my head, and it's ok if I don't come.  She has, on occasion, told me that I'm not permitted to come during our lovemaking. That's a headrush for me.  She's also instructed me to be sure and save myself for her by not cumming during the week, even if I masturbate.  I like that she's dabbling with controlling my orgasms. I don't want it to be a burden for her, but I really like abstaining at her behest. 

Thanks for reading.

Jen

My Darkest Fears

 "Fear keeps us focused on the past or worried about the future. If we can acknowledge our fear, we can realize that right now we are okay. Right now, today, we are still alive, and our bodies are working marvelously. Our eyes can still see the beautiful sky. Our ears can still hear the voices of our loved ones."

--Thich Nhat Hanh

Something has been gnawing at me for quite some time.  It was difficult to put a finger on it.  I've been having difficulty sleeping for quite a while.  As the Howard Hamlin character from Better Call Saul states, I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy.

In a word, I think the culprit has been fear.  Also known as worry.  I've been worrying about a lot of things lately.  I'm dealing with a very-pressure job, and there are a lot of changes coming in my life soon. I'm getting married, moving house, and also probably retiring soon.  Each of those is a known stress-inducer by itself; collectively they are daunting. I have always had a tendency to fret over my past and worry about my future. I know that living in the moment is important. I've tried mediation in the past, and may do so again.

Perhaps my biggest fear has been whether I'm good enough for my lady.  I know that she loves me, deeply.  She says it and shows it in so many ways. I love her orders of magnitude more deeply than I thought possible.  There's just a part of me that thinks I'm undeserving of love, inculcated over the years by abusive siblings, a long-lasting but utterly failed marriage, and probably some amount of inherent nature.  My fear, as expressed by that bastard of an inner voice, was that if she really knew me at the deepest layer, she would not feel the same way about me.  That one day, she'd announced that she just can't be with me.  

So, what would be the causal factor in said break-up?  Me. As in Jennifer. The name I've given to my crossdressing self. It seems that women that are not absolutely repulsed by men who crossdress are rarer than a unicorn in a tutu.  Of that number, woman who are accepting of such behavior are a mere sliver of a fraction.  What are the chances that my lady occupies that rarified space?

Well, as it turns out, the answer is 100%. We had a long, tear-filled conversation yesterday about this blog.  As you know from prior posts, I invited her to read it.  She was hesitant; not sure what surprises it might hold. I reassured her that I had no more "big reveal" moments; that she knows about all my "quirks."  Still, I express thoughts here with more detail and clarity than I can provide in conversation.  I think deeply about things, and conversations usually move too fast for me to fully express myself properly.  I invited her to this blog so that she could read my thoughts in detail. I don't want to hold secrets. I want her to truly know me.  My fear was, that once she did...

I need not have.  I received this text from her last night, after she left..  "Well, I read everything.  I love you more than ever.  Fear not. You are *still* my everything."

There are things left to explore. But they are within the territory already staked out. She truly does love "all of me."  I am over the moon.

By the way, we also had a pretty amazing love-making session this weekend. That deserves its own post; hopefully soon.

Thanks for reading.

Jen

Blog Readers

My lady asked me last week to send her the link to some blogs, so that she could learn more about what turns me on.  Have I mentioned how amazing she is?

I thought about several that I follow, but I didn't really feel like any one in particular was a good example, by itself, of the things that interest me.  While each is appealing to a degree (why else would I follow them?), they are not completely in line with what I like. Some focus entirely on aspects that only mildly interest me, and some include topics as a minor element that don't appeal to me at all.  Others are so "out there" that I follow them out of fascination rather than similarity to my interests. 

I had been thinking the whole time that my own blog - this one - is the one that I should share. My primary hesitancy was whether knowing that she was going to read it would change what I write.  The answer is, probably so. But that's ok. It could be better than ok.

I sent her the invitation. I hope she likes what she reads.  I'll let you know.

Thanks for reading.

Jen