Dec 31, 2012
Dec 26, 2012
Not sure what I'm going to charge yet. Maybe $20 a book? I can negotiate.
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 5, 2012
9 mins 50 seconds $25.00
Welcome home from work, honey. How was your day? Oh, I know, it's that busy time of year. It's got to be tough. Don't you worry, though. Things are about to get a lot easier for you here at home.
Honey, I want to introduce you to Charlie. Remember that problem we've been having with the heating vent for the last few months? The one you could never get to or figure out? Charlie here came over today from the Handiman Connection and took care of it for me. He also took care of a few other things around here that I've been nagging you about.
Yes, Charlie took care of a lot of things. And he's going to take care of a few others to relieve my poor overworked husband... Doesn't that sound nice? Charlie's very handy. He knows how to use his tools like a real man should. Not like you. No, no, before you say a word, just think of all the things around the house that I've asked you to do and all of the excuses you've given me. You don't have the right tools, you don't have enough time. Blah blah blah. You've been giving me nothing but excuses. And that goes for more than just the furnace or the dishwasher or the way the lights flicker downstairs. I'm talking about the most important room in the house, hon. I'm talking about our bedroom. Charlie's going to help me out there, too. Now, follow me down the hall and I'll show you exactly what I mean.
Honey, move those clothes to the floor and sit on the chair in the corner. That's right. Now it's time for you to learn a thing or two of how to make a woman happy in her home.
Oh, look at that body. Charlie, your muscles are so impressive. And I love your hairy chest. I've been sleeping next to him for the last four years and, believe me; it's like sleeping with my sister. He's barely got any hair on him, not even on his balls! But, you! Now you're what I think of when I think of a man, when I lay in bed with my vibrator I picture someone just like you, Charlie. Honey, didn't you know that after you fall asleep every night I lie awake with my vibrator thinking about getting fucked by a real man? I'm sorry, babe, but you just don't do it for me... never have... it's just that you don't have the right tools in that toolbox. Now, Charlie, here... Look at that tool. Mmmm, that's a real cock; the kind that makes a woman weak in the knees... Have you ever seen such a thing? No, of course you haven't. At least, you haven't seen something like this when you look down over that paunch of yours to see that little thing you call a cock. Oh, god, I can feel it getting thicker and harder in my hand. I want to feel it getting that way in my mouth. Mmmm, this is how a real man can please a woman; can please me. Feeling a little uncomfortable? Why are you shifting around so much in your seat? Trying to get a better view? Don't worry about that. The fun's just starting. Charlie, take off my clothes. Strip me. I want to be naked for you.
Mmmm, yes. Your hands are so strong and rough. I love the way you grope my ass. Let's get on the bed so my husband can see us better... I want him to know what it looks like when a man... a real man... takes a woman. Lay down, I want to ride that beast between your legs. Oh, shit... I can feel it... every inch... oh my god... Yes... I feel so full... it's like I'm going to fucking burst. Oh, yeah...
Do you see this, honey? Watch the way my hips are rocking on Charlie's cock... I don't have to worry about him falling out of me because he's so fucking big... not like you.
Do me from behind, Charlie. I want to get close to my husband so he can watch my face when you're fucking me. I want him to see what it's like when I'm getting properly fucked. Are you watching me, honey?
Oh my god, you've got a fucking hard-on, don't you? You do! Take down your pants. Look at this, Charlie. This is what I've been dealing with. Yes, that's how he looks when he's fully hard.
Do you like seeing me getting fucked, honey? Or is it Charlie that's turning you on, you silly little faggot. Go ahead, honey, you can jerk that little thing while Charlie's fucking me. I know you want to. Now, watch my face. Look at me as Charlie... oh shit... yes.... Charlie's pushing himself.... so deep... yes... so fucking deep. Yes.... Don't hold back, Charlie. Don't worry about hurting me. I haven't been fucked like this in years. Yes, pull my hair... Give it to me. Oh fuck. Yes. Oh, shit, yes, Charlie, yes... Oh, I'm gonna cum... Yes. Oh fuck! Honey, are you going to while you see me getting fucked? Go ahead, honey... because this won't be the last time you watch me getting fucked.... but it may be the last time I let you cum while it's happening. You might be too busy next time... Getting Charlie ready to fuck me.... or licking my ass while Charlie fucks my cunt.... Go ahead, baby... you can cum while watching a real man fucking me.
Oh, Charlie, are you cumming, too? Oh yes... YES.... Oh, shit... Oh, god, I'm cumming again.... Yes... Oh fuck, I can feel you shooting inside of me. FUCK.
Shit, Charlie, that was incredible. Do you want to see something really funny? Look at my husband's stomach. See those few little drips there? He came. Isn't that hysterical? I can feel you gushing down my legs and that's all that happens when my husband has an orgasm. I wish all men could be like you, Charlie, but... I guess someone has to be around for cleaning up. And that's what you're going to do, honey. Get down between my legs and clean me up. I want you to eat every drop of Charlie's cum. Next time maybe you'll get it straight from the source, you fucking little faggot. You're definitely not a man so I figure that you've got to be at least half a fag.
Yes, lick it up... Clean my legs first and work up to my cunt. I want to hear you slurping it; sucking up the mess. Do a good job, I want to be clean before Charlie fucks me again... You'd better get used to the taste because you're going to be eating a lot of that from here on out.
Nov 28, 2012
Billing itself as "the kinky film festival," the event is presented by CineKink, an organization dedicated to the recognition and encouragement of sex-positive and kink-friendly depictions in film and television. With offerings drawn from both the independent cinema world and the adult, works presented at CineKink NYC will range from documentary to drama, comedy to experimental, slightly spicy to quite explicit--and everything in between.
"It's so amazing to me that we've made it to the decade marker," said Lisa Vandever, Co-Founder and Director of CineKink. "Looking back on all the films we've presented since 2003, it's incredibly gratifying that we've been able to connect such smart and sexy works, and such talented filmmakers, with an appreciative, like-minded audience. And we're looking forward to another year of it!"
The organization is currently seeking works for CineKink/2013, with a call for entries open until December 11, 2012. The festival line-up and schedule for CineKink NYC will be announced in January.
For more information visit http://www.cinekink.com.
Nov 27, 2012
I'd always try to take my niece and nephews out to see the big movie premieres or to special events. I made sure to get them a few gag gifts around the holidays along with something that would garner an "awesome!" or two.
When the boys, I'd kid with them incessantly. I got into the habit of telling them tall tales, building on them into the stratosphere of ridiculousness until they'd finally call me out on them. "You know, those planes aren't actually getting higher, they're getting smaller..." They ran around the rest of the weekend trying to catch planes by jumping into the air.
I suppose I was teaching them to not trust authority; something I always valued.
With the girl, Jill, I tried to bolster her confidence, trying to inoculate her against the bad messages that come at young women all the time. The week before my niece's homecoming dance, my sister asked me to come over and stay the weekend. Jill was of age but my sister couldn't handle the idea of her daughter being alone for the weekend.
"Whatever you do, don't call it babysitting," Jill pleaded with me when I arrived.
"I wouldn't in a million years," I assured her. Jill was no baby. She'd long since gone from the little girl I once knew to a beautiful young woman. I'd watched her blossom, seeing her change more and more at every family function.
The week went smoothly. While my sister has lousy taste in movies, the boys hadn't taken all their DVDs to college with them, leaving me a wide array of action and horror movies. I had to get on Jill a few times about doing her homework before allowing her to join me watching movies. Like most teens, she was somewhat sulky and often a smartass. As the week went on, it felt like she had something she wanted to talk about but I didn't press her. I remembered what it was like when adults in my life used to pressure me.
I found myself with her on that Friday night, surprised that she'd be spending time at home with me rather than going out with friends. Don't kids always have to be somewhere? Soccer, track, dance class, the mall?
"Are you going out tonight?" I asked her. I don't know what it was; maybe that I had finally asked her something but what she had been holding back all week finally came tumbling out.
She started tearing up a bit and shook her head. "No, I'm not going anywhere."
"Were you supposed to be somewhere?"
She paused, biting her lip, and whispered, "Tonight's homecoming."
"Ah," I intoned, knowing that homecoming was once important to me when I was her age. "I don't want to be indelicate, but why aren't you going?"
She turned her head and I expected waterworks. My heart sunk. "Oh, shit. Now I have to comfort a crying teenager," I thought.
I breathed a little sigh of relief when she turned back to look at me and said, "Because I was afraid."
Without thinking I asked, "What are you afraid of?"
Her face flushed immediately with embarrassment and her eyes hit the ground. She made a few gurgled sounds in her throat and I tried to intuit the answer to my own question.
"Did you feel pressure that something might happen at homecoming?" I asked. I could see that I was getting close to something. "Or... after homecoming?"
"Yes," she whispered.
What the fuck? Had my sister never had the talk -- and I mean the talk -- with Jill? The same one mom had with us where she scared us shitless about sex and made us sign a contract that we wouldn't ever go "all the way" with someone of the opposite sex until we were twenty years old? I wish I could say that was a joke but it was as real as the ink we used to sign it (I had asked if she wanted it signed in blood and received a cuff to the ear for that one).
"Are you worried more about being pressured to do something you don't want to do or afraid that you don't want to do something or scared about wanting it?"
It took a moment for the full implications of my question to hit her.
After an uncomfortable silence, she stammered, "I - uh - I..."
I let her off the hook.
"Did you buy a dress for homecoming?"
Thankful for a new question she quickly answered, "Yes, four weeks ago."
"So, you were definitely planning on going," I said. "I don't imagine you can use the same dress for the prom. It seems a shame to waste it."
I stood up, moving to the window where I could look at her indirectly as a reflection that got clearer each moment as the sun rapidly descended in the western sky.
"How about," I said, "We have our own homecoming right here. You go upstairs, put on your dress; I'll put on some music, and we can have our dance here. I don't know what else they do at these dances. Food? Drink? Streamers? Tell me and I'll do what I can to make sure your dress doesn't go to waste."
I watched her reflected in the window. I could see her considering my words, wondering if it was too nerdy to go get in her party dress and dance with her uncle or if privacy allowed her this indulgence.
Without saying a word, she left the room. I turned in time to see her head up the stairs to her room.
I prepared the sitting room; moving furniture out of the way to give us a dance floor. I lowered the lights and spent far too long with my sister's over-complicated stereo system before I could get it tuned to a satellite station.
I wanted Jill to have her Homecoming. I had never gone to any of my high school dances in any capacity other than getting in for free as a perk for being in marching band. After weekly football games, I'd put away my instrument, change out of my uniform, and wander into the gym where I'd hold up a wall for a half hour before going home and thinking about all the girls I wanted to ask to dance.
And now? Dancing with my niece. I hadn't done so since my sister got married over twenty years ago.
I remembered how intense things like dances could be. I hoped to at least let her have something special to remember. I thought she might consider the whole idea too "lame" but she seemed to jump at the chance.
I heard the clack of her shoes on the wood stairs. I turned to see her coming down. She looked gorgeous. Her hair was in her best up-do with tendrils framing her face. Her dress, a maroon satin creation, emphasized her budding figure. It boasted an embarrassing amount of cleavage and I wondered how my sister had approved of it.
As she reached the final step, I told her how terrific she looked. Even in the dim light I could see the color rising on her cheeks.
A slow song started on the satellite station. I reached out my hand. "May I have this dance?"
She gave me hers in return and we met halfway. After a moment of fumbling with our hand positions, she ended up with her arms up over my shoulders while mine rested at her waist. The heat of her body felt good beneath my fingers.
She would try to meet my eyes and then look down as we swayed to the rhythm of the music, slowly moving across the wooden floor.
The song changed and Jill moved closer, resting her head on my chest. I put my chin onto the top of her head, smelling the sweetness of her hair. I felt her body relax like she had finally let out a breath she'd been holding in for too long.
"Is this anywhere near to what you had in mind?" I asked.
"This is better than I could have hoped for," she said in a whisper. She wrapped her hands around the back of my head.
"Why is that?"
"I was afraid and I'm not anymore," she said.
"Sometimes it's good to be a little afraid. It keeps you on the straight and narrow. So, what were you afraid of? Can you tell me now?"
She began to pull, lowering my head as she raised hers. Our mouths met. She kissed me passionately, if inexpertly. As she broke from me she whispered, "That."
It took me a moment to catch my breath. My head was swimming.
"Were you afraid to kiss a boy, or afraid to kiss me?" I asked.
"I don't want a boy. I want you," she said, kissing me again.
"This isn't right," I told her, despite how much I wanted to kiss her. I caught a whiff of her perfume and wanted to nuzzle against her neck.
Her voice dropped down to a throaty whisper. "I feel safe here with you," she said. "I feel pressured by boys to do things that I don't want to do... with them. I want to do them with you."
I looked down to take her in even more. I watched the rise and fall of her chest, my eyes feasting on her cleavage, seeing the lightly freckles on her tanned skin. I watched the tendons of her neck stretch as she looked up into my eyes.
"I wanted this night to be something to remember, and now it is. I don't want to lose myself to anyone but you. Will you take me?"
The pleading in her eyes made my knees weak.
"Please?" she asked.
"It's always been you. Once I knew that I had this to give, I wanted to give it to you. I've laid awake so many nights, dreaming about it."
"This isn't right," I said.
She leaned up to me ear and whispered, "I don't care."
I ran my thumb along the top of her dress where her breasts met the material. She gasped in my ear when my skin met hers.
"I want you to take me," she whispered.
I moved my mouth to her neck, feeling her pulse quicken under my lips as I kissed her there. She leaned her head to the side, exposing herself to me. My lips parted and my teeth sunk into her tender young skin. She gasped and I felt her hands hold tighter onto my head, pulling me tighter.
I moved my head down further where I began to plant kisses across the expanse of her cleavage. She moaned as my hands crept onto her bottom, squeezing her tightly.
I stood up from her, releasing her.
I looked into her eyes and she knew why I had stopped. She knew that it was up to her to make the next move.
She reached down to the bottom of her dress and lifted it, removing it. I watched as she revealed her long, tanned legs.
She was naked beneath her dress.
I took in her pubic thatch, her thin hips, her flat stomach, her budding breasts.
She looked at me before quickly averting her gaze. I put my hand beneath her chin, lifting her face to mine. I looked down into her eyes as I told her how beautiful she was.
I let my other hand trail from her shoulder down her body, stopping between her legs.
I pushed a finger inside, finding her pussy wet and waiting for me. She gasped as I plunged into her, feeling her grasping at my digit as I sunk it deep into her. I watched as the look on her face went from lust to panic and quickly to pleasure.
My middle finger moved into her while my thumb found her clitoris. As I moved my finger in and out of her, my thumb brush over her clit and back again in time. I felt her begin to move with my rhythm, moving her hips against the movement of my hand.
Her eyes rolled back and her mouth opened slightly to allow a small moan to escape.
As I fingered her, I realized that I really wanted to take her cherry. Who knew what kind of boy was going to want to get in her pants? Why shouldn't I be the one to introduce her to the world of sex? To teach her. To make sure she's treated right. To comfort her after the first time? Why shouldn't I do it? Why shouldn't I fuck her?
The only argument that came back to me was one word, "Pregnant." I couldn't cum in her. That I couldn't do. But, everything else? Why not?
Maybe I'd fuck her so hard that she would hesitate to have sex again before she got out of college. I knew she'd probably already be racking up some extensive therapy bills, it was just a matter of why; sex with her uncle or rough sex with her uncle?
Her mouth worked, opening and closing while her eyelids fluttered. Finally, from somewhere deep inside her came a noise that began as a low moan, almost like a sigh, and crescendoed to a howl. Her eyes opened as she hit the top range and locked onto mine. Her pussy quivered and I felt her muscles spasm. Soon, her whole body seemed to vibrate.
I knew she was ready.
I raised my fingers to my lips and began to lick them clean. "Get down on your knees," I told her.
She dropped as if all the strength left the muscles in her legs. Without saying a word, she knew what to do. She knew what she needed.
She worked at my belt with deft fingers, quickly undoing my pants and freeing my cock. She hungrily took it into her mouth, clumsily sucking on me, perhaps in an imitation of something she might have seen in an adult movie or, more likely, something simulated in a late night soft core film on cable.
I let her continue for a moment before I reached down to pull her off of me. "But, I want to!" she said, almost pouting.
"Maybe later," I said. "But, first, I need to be somewhere else inside of you."
I got down to my knees, putting my hands on her shoulders and pushing her back. She took my lead and lay back on the floor. I crawled to her, taking her legs and lifting them aloft, she seemed surprised but allowed me to move her into a position where I had easy access to her pussy.
I got up close to her, leaning her legs against my shoulder with one hand while I used the other to run my cock up and down the folds of her pussy. I maneuvered myself into the right spot. I looked into her eyes and told her to relax. "This will hurt just a bit," I said, pushing into her.
It only took the briefest of moments to steal her virginity, to feel her break beneath me, to smell the scent of her blood mix in with her excitement, to see her face go from pleasure to pain and back again.
Her hands were above her head, hands grasping at nothing. Her eyes fluttered, going from my face to the spot where our bodies conjoined. She bit down on her lip, so hard as to draw blood. I watched a tiny droplet move down her chin, moving in a ragged line as I continued to pump into her.
I ran my hand down her leg, wrapping my arm around the front of her thigh and fishing my fingers inside of her to find her clit. As soon as my fingers found it, I felt her clench even tighter on my cock. It took every ounce of control to not cum at that moment.
I wanted to feel her cum on my cock; I wanted her to know what that felt like. I rubbed against her in time with my thrusts, pushing harder and deeper, my balls slapping against her ass. I heard a grunting sound. I looked down at her but Jill's mouth was clamped tight. I realized that the I was making the sounds; raw, loud, animalistic. I knew I was getting close but wouldn't let myself cum until I felt her let go once more for me.
She gasped and her eyes opened wide. I felt her pussy begin to spasm around me. She lowered her arms and started pounding her fists against the floor, crying out, pleading to God, Jesus, and me.
I slid myself out of her and laid my cock on her furry patch. Without another movement, I began cumming, splashing my seed against her lower belly. Some of it pooled in her navel. The rest ran down either side of her with some of it coming back and getting trapped in her pubic hair.
I left her, still panting, on the floor to pad out into the kitchen for a wet towel.
I cleaned her off, completely wrapped up in wiping all traces of sex and blood from her body. A strangled noise in her throat made me look to her face. I could see it awash in a maelstrom of emotion.
"What we did was wrong, Jill," I whispered. "But I don't regret it. I'm glad it was me and not some teenage boy fumbling in the dark, wanting to get his rocks off. Now you've got a few choices that you need to make. You can tell your folks about this and never see me again. You can keep it a secret to yourself and we can never do this again. Or, you can keep it a secret between us and I can give you more of the feelings you had today. I don't want an answer now. What I want is for you to get up, put your dress back on, and dance with me again."
The music still played as we swayed together for long hours into the night. The next day my sister came back home and that was the last time I ever saw her or Jill ever again.
Nov 18, 2012
That locker contains a lot of hopes and dreams. It contains memories of bygone days. Also packed in there are a collection of toys. It's been so long since I've seen inside the locker that I forget the inventory of what's there.
The toys have no personal memories associated with them as I never used them or used them on anyone else. Most of them were "donated" to my wife from the days when she was Dominant. Some were left in safe-keeping by submissives who couldn't keep toys at home for fear of discovery. Some were purchased by my wife with hopes of using them on someone. On me? Perhaps. But that she had them all before we met, that's doubtful.
I remember a set of four-point restraints that were secreted out of a psych ward. There's an array of vibrators whose batteries have most likely corroded. I don't remember anything else.
That chest bothers me. It sits out there day after day, taunting me.
It's a shame that these toys go unused. I'm of two minds with it. I want to go out and throw it away. Not just the contents but the chest as well. Or, I want to dig out everything and use it on a very special someone (after being washed and given new batteries, of course).
Nov 12, 2012
We also had a surprise guest, Lori Perkins, a literary agent from NYC. Unfortunately, the conversation turned to 50 Shades of Grey and it felt like everything I said was being misconstrued as a criticism -- even when I was talking about how wonderfully agnostic kindles/e-readers are (you can read whatever smut you want an no one's judging you by the cover of the "book" you're holding.
We were live on the air with callers. Anything could happen... and did!
Get the episode via iTunes or from the Blog Talk Radio website or listen to it directly via the interface below.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 23, 2012
I had a great time over the weekend with a new play friend. We had a blast exploring one another; playing roles and messing with each others' minds.
I came back home to the wife and the cold reality of rejection. Why can I have the feeling of being desired outside of my house? But where I should feel the most secure and happy, I feel most out of sorts.
Oct 22, 2012
I come home. I see my wife and I see how great she looks. I get that stirring in my stomach that I've been feeling lately. I want her. You'd think it'd be a fairly easy thing to get across, right?
Maybe I could just say it aloud. But, no, I won't. I'm too used to hearing "no" or "I'm tired".
Instead, I get down on my knees in front of her. I lean in to give her a kiss hello and, rather than getting up, I stay there with my hand on her knees. I rub gently as we talk. I ask about her day. I reach up and stroke her hair. I'm tell her how nice she looks.
And nothing happens. Eventually, my leg starts to cramp. I stand up and go change clothes. I feel tears behind my eyes. I ask myself, "Why can't I just say what I want? Why doesn't she know what I want?"
Am I just no good at sending signals? Or are the signals received and just ignored?
We're going to be here all afternoon, darling. As with everything involved in transformation, there's a price that must be paid for the big reward. I'm starting with the clippers. Right here on your belly.
Don't pull away.
This will take care of a lot of the hair, yes, but you'll be astounded just how much there is left. This may pull a little bit but it certainly feels better than waxing... and no blood... well, very little we hope.
Can you feel the way the air in the room has changed with the more hair you lose? Can you feel the little drafts that you weren't able to before? If not, you will... the world is about to feel very different for you. It's like I'm going to take the blinders off of you.
I love these clippers. They just cut through that mangy coat like butter. Look at that pile of hair that came off of you. It's enough to make a small dog. Now, second step. This trimmer on my electric shaver goes a lot closer. And now I'll be getting a lot more intimate... Up and in and around and down.... All over this body that I own. The body you gave over to me when we first met. The one that I knew had potential but needed work. Now it's time to do the work.
There, so much hair hidden in secret places. All of it coming off. Coming clean. Just like you. There's not going to be a hair left on you apart from the hair on your head, darling. Good. You're looking so much better. Do you feel better too, dear? (Blowing) How do you like the feel of me blowing along your chest? Your skin feels more sensitive... how about your nipples? Doesn't that feel nice... Now for step three. I'm going to slather you up with shaving cream. Sometimes nothing beats the old traditions. I know it feels strange on your skin. I'm sure it's been years since you've felt anything on your nearly bare body.
I need you to stay perfectly still now as I use my razor. Yes, feel it just peeling away all of that remaining hair. Down to the skin. Oh, yes. That's looking so nice. Smooth like a baby's bottom or, in your case, like a girl. Yes. Look at how nice and smooth your legs are. So shapely. I'm going to shave every last inch. You even have hair on your toes, did you know that? But you won't after today... All gone. Just like the rest. Let's work this blade into every nook and cranny, every crevice. You poor thing, you don't know whether to be excited or scared as I hold your little thing and shave here between your legs. Don't be scared, little girl. I want you in tact. I want you pretty for me. You do want that, don't you?
Yes, I thought you might.
All right, we've reached the final step. I'm going to slather you with this depilatory. A nice thick cream all over you. Imagine that. Now, this may burn a bit but it will be worth it. Think of it as me burning away the last remnants of your masculinity.
I'm going to get down here, between your cheeks. Every last bit of you. There's no place you'll have hair just like there's not going to be a trace of the boy in you left. This will take a bit. I'm going to set the timer on my phone to let me know when I can wipe you down and get that last bit of hair off of you. While we wait, I'm going to have you look at me. Look at my arms. See how the skin looks? See how smooth? Feel my wrist here across the back of your cheek. Isn't that nice? That's how smooth you're going to be, my sweet sissy. And, look at my legs. See how nice they look? Yours won't ever look this nice but your legs will be similar. Yes, and imagine when I have you put on stockings over your bare legs. That's going to blow your mind, honey. And the panties that I have for you. Nice and snug. Imagine the lace hugging your bare hips and bottom.
It's time. I've got the warm water and washcloth to wipe you down.
Everything's coming off with this. There isn't even a speck. All off. I'm sure this washcloth feels odd to you, going right up against your bare skin. This is the world I was telling you about. All these new sensations. All thanks to me. And, yes, you may thank me now. Look at yourself in the full-length mirror and thank me as you see your new body. Do you even recognize it? It's a new you, sweetie. A new you that's all mine.
All clean and smooth, yes.
Now, sit that butt down on the bench there. Oh! Yes, it's cold, isn't it? A lot colder than you might ever recall. Just sit there, dear, and let the feeling soak in. Here, take these, and put them on. That's right, point your toe and roll those onto your legs, one at a time. Isn't that something.
Yes, it's a whole new world, isn't it? You've worn stockings for me before, this very pair, but they feel even more wonderful now. I know. Now, stand up and run your hands over them. Now the panties. Here. Yes, black lace, your favorite. And, yes, they look so nice in contrast to your pale, smooth bottom. So good that I've got to take a picture. Oh, yes, that's perfect. Lift up your arms. It's the bra that matches those panties. Now you can feel how that lace is on your skin, and how it rubs against your nipples. And I tightly secure the straps around you. Perfect.
Yes... that is perfect.
You look like such a pretty girl. My pretty girl. I'm going to make my pretty girl's transformation complete now.
I'm going to make her feel like a proper girl. Because now I'm going to take her and fuck her like a girl. It's not use to protest, darling. You knew this was coming and you know you want it. It's time. I want you to get down on all fours right there. Don't worry, you won't snag your stockings. That's right. Oh, I can see that you're ready. I see the way you've got your butt up high in the air for me.
That's good. Mmm, I like running my hands over you even more now. It's so nice. And can't you feel my hands even better now? Feel the warmth from my body. Can't you feel my legs near yours? And can't you feel the head of my cock sliding up and down the crack of your ass like never before? Even the pressure against your sweet little rosebud.
It feels different, doesn't it? Better. More immediate. Show me how much you want this. Show me you're mine. Push back onto my cock. Open yourself to me. Oh, that's right. Oh, yes. You're taking my cock so sweetly. I love seeing it disappear inside of you. Inch by inch. Seeing you open to me. Seeing you take my cock and hearing you moan.
And when I smack your ass it feels so much more real, doesn't it? So much sharper and harder. And that means you'd better move that sweet ass and take my cock good. Fuck yourself, bitch. Fuck yourself with my cock. I'm going to keep smacking that ass until it's bright red.
Oh, fuck, girl. You do that so well.
You're just a natural at taking my cock, aren't you? Shit, you're going to make me cum. You're going to feel me cum right down deep inside of you, my pretty girl. Take it. Take it. Yes, take all of me, bitch, and tell me you love it.
Good. Good girl. Now get up and pull your panties up. I've got the rest of the outfit for you to put on for when we go out tonight.
Oct 17, 2012
HYSTERIA by Tanya Wexler
Maggie Gyllenhaal in HYSTERIA
Hugh Dancy in HYSTERIA
Best Trans Performance:
Deviant Kade in RUBBER BORDELLO
Best Documentary Film:
MY DAY WITH TARNA by Chris Caliman
Best short Film:
JUMPCUT by Saskia Quax
Best Actress in a short Film:
Yulia Petrauskas DA KINK IN MY LAIR
Best Actor in a short Film:
Johnny Kostrey THE CHAUFFEUR
Best Trans-Performances in a short Films:
Atif Siddiq in HOUSE FOR SALE
Scott Speiser in MISS D
Best short Documentary:
TRANSITION by Tim Brunsden and Paul McCann
Best Concert Performance:
BUECK DICH by Rammstein
CRY ME A RIVER by Eklipse
LET YOUR DARK SIDE OUT TO PLAY by O Zarathustra
MY FETISH by Formalin
STRAY SHADOWS by Blanket Barricade
Best Website of a Filmproducer:
Best long clip:
SISSY SLUT SECRETARY (transfetishvideo)
Best female performance in a long clip:
Alexis Grace in SISSY SLUT SECRETARY
Best male performance in a long clip:
Christian in CABARET
Best trans performance in a long clip:
Tiffany DuNotte in SISSY SLUT SECRETARY
Best Short Clip:
GAG ON IT SLUT Barbi Dawll
Best female performance in a short clip:
Karina Currie in CHAINED AND INSPECTED
Best male performance in a short clip:
Lance Hart in MACY'S CUCK BOYFRIEND
Best trans performance in a short clip:
Barbi Dawll in GAG ON IT SLUT
There are times that Mistress robs me of my manhood.
She doesn't want me to have a penis so she denies me of it. She's done this in various ways throughout the years that I've served her but she's gotten it down to a science.
Tied up so I don't thrash, Mistress snaps her purple rubber gloves. She bears a gleefully evil look in her eyes. Her smile borders on a leer when she smears the unguent on her palms. She grips my erection. This kind of manipulation would feel good if only the gelatinous liquid on her palms was something else other than the numbing agent. As soon as her hands touch my dick, I begin to lose all feeling there. Like a deflating balloon, I wither, ending up limp and tiny within moments. For good measure she slaps my lifeless penis. I don't feel a thing.
Between changing gloves she brings her needles close. She holds aloft a rather high gauge needle that catches the light just before it pierces my foreskin. I watch, fascinated, seeing it pass easily through my skin. She passes a silver hoop through the two tiny punctures she's made. Into the hoop she threads a strip of leather. She pulls it, hesitantly at first. Everything holds firm. She pulls tighter until she's stretching out my foreskin until it looks something like an elephant's trunk.
She has me stand and secures another leather strip around my waist. I watch in the wall mirror as she pulls my cock back through my legs and ties the two leather strips together. Having me face forward, I see that my cock is gone. What remains is a shaven patch where Mistress occasionally allows my pubic hair to grow. It's smooth, now, and without a trace of manhood. There's nothing there for me -- nothing visual and no feeling. When she makes me like this, I usually feel a bit detached from myself since my body has become so alien.
I'm Mistress's eunuch. And, deprived of my main source of physical pleasure, Mistress works to make me experience pleasure -- and pain -- via other means. Not distracted by my cock, she finds that her manipulations are more pure.
Sometimes she continues to deny me of sensations. She blindfolds me. She plugs my nose. She seals my mouth with safety tape. She sits close to me and uses her vibrator on herself. The intensity of the sound -- of the vibrator and the sounds of her body -- is incredible.
Sometimes she picks one area on my body and overstimulates it. She knows that my nipples are normally sensitive. Once she played so much with them that I orgasmed despite the lack of feeling below my waist. I still bucked my hips as if I was ejaculating. The emotional and physical satisfaction were present but the physical evidence was not.
Today temporarily castrates me before robbing me of my sight and hearing. I can still smell and taste. She pushes me down to the floor and mounts my face. I feel her thighs on either side of my head, pushing the earplugs deeper. She overwhelms me with the scent and taste of her pussy. There is nothing else in the world except for this. I live for nothing else.
My tongue works hard, rubbing up against her clitoris before diving down deep into her valley, tasting her. Drinking from her. She is my desert oasis. She feeds me with her need. Her taste is like a drug to me. It drives me. It takes me to new heights. It makes me hungrier for her.
My tongue nestles against her, licking slowly, luxuriously. I feel her push down harder onto me. I lick and flick, harder and faster. I can feel her shudder and taste her unleash.
As she cums atop me, I feel stirrings in my numbed sex. I know that she could slap me there and I wouldn't feel a thing but the arousal I feel runs so deep that it awakens the phantom between my legs. My sexuality is so bound to this place that, even numbed, I ache for her.
Oct 16, 2012
I have a great ability to conveniently forget things. I've managed to hide away a lot of things, locking them somewhere deep inside where I dare not look. I'd like to say that those were things done to hurt or disturb me but, more often, they're things I've done to hurt or disturb others.
My mind immediately goes to a dinner I had with a girl -- now a woman -- with who I went to high school. "You were a real dick back then," she told me. Here I was, painting myself as some kind of loser victim while, apparently, I had been more than a little mean to others. Sure, some of that is perception -- and I know I talk about that a lot on here -- but there is such thing as truth and I truly believe her. I'm sure I was a dick to her and to a lot of other people. It's no wonder I had just a smattering of friends back then. I'm about as selfish and self-centered as they come.
The reason why I'm writing this isn't to confess my sins, however. I'm more concerned that there's something that disturbed me (and still does) that I thought for sure I had written about once before in an attempt to purge myself of the memory at least a bit.
I've written before about how the sex between my ex-wife and I dried up after just a few months. I went from a virgin to regular intercourse to rarity in a matter of months. I still don't know if that sparsity of sex was my ex's way of driving me away but it took years before it finally worked.
In the meantime, the sex we had on those rare occasions was unsatisfying to say the least.
Often we would be fooling around and there would be some kind of unspoken signal that passed between us that intercourse was imminent. She would excuse herself to go to the bathroom, leaving me turgid on our bed. Time would pass. A lot of time. Too much time. I don't know what she was doing in there but by the time she came back, whatever fire had once burned had long since gone out -- usually in her. "I'm tired," she'd say, and that was that.
Other times, there was the added humiliation of her asking me to put on a condom before she left for her interminable bathroom trips. By the time she'd come back, I'd be limp and, if we continued, another condom would be necessary.
But, the worst of it was that the times my ex wanted to have sex usually coincided with her period. She'd be full bore into her menses when she'd get the urge. Having been deprived for months, I would go for it, despite the negative things that went along with this -- namely the odor and the dryness. Even the best lubricant we'd use wouldn't survive the process and, quickly, things would get more than awkward.
However, the worst would come when, just minutes into intercourse, my ex would break out in tears, pulling herself off of/away from me. These weren't tears of pain. They were full on crying jags; the kind where her body would shake and shudder. She'd gasp for breath while practically screaming. And there I was, kneeling with a bloody condom on my shrinking cock, never able to console her.
After a while, even looking at a condom would shrink my dick. I started to lose all desire for sex as it always came with blood and tears (no sweat).
When I told the above to my therapist -- who is usually as cool as a cucumber -- she blurted out, "What she molested as a child?" That was my same theory but something my ex never admitted to, if it happened. Despite years of therapy, nothing ever changed with my ex. If anything, she seemed to get worse rather than better.
Whenever she was given something to help stabilize her mood, her plan quickly became, "How fast can I ween myself from this medication?" She hated taking pills, no matter how much they helped her. Self sabotage? Yes, I think so. But, at the same time, she was sabotaging both of us.
I was there in that circle, yes, playing along. But it took me years to see just how sick it was.
Oct 15, 2012
It all started innocently enough. I was heading to another city for the weekend. It's close enough to drive there in a little over an hour but far enough away from my home town that it felt like a vacation. Before I left I thought I'd look on Fetlife and browse the folks in the area. One woman in particular caught my eye. On her profile she talked about being a smart-ass. Also, everything it was free of misspellings and grammatical errors; a rarity. (I'm the kind of asshole who goes through profiles on CollarMe.com and send spelling corrections to entries that would have otherwise interested me).
I dropped her a line and was more than a little shocked when a received a response a few days later. I tried to handle things gingerly; I didn't want to spook her by letting her in on my excitement. It's rare that anyone ever respond to me, much less someone who seemed so interesting. I had only ever met two people who I had met via Fetlife and both of them had been friends of friends. Neither have gone beyond an initial meeting, though there was no animosity at the end. Both were "we just need to find time" people who flummoxed me. (You mean you can't find an hour to grab a cup of coffee even though I'm in your neck of the woods and gave you a week's notice? I finally figured out it wasn't the coffee or the half hour. It was me.)
Apparently, my response back to her didn't turn her off. We exchanged emails over the evening. Eventually she escalated and suggested we text. I countered with a complaint about my tiny keyboard and gave her my number with a suggestion to call. She did.
I turned off the lights and got in bed, bringing her with me. Her voice, anyway. We talked for well over an hour. Maybe it was the late hour or the drinks I had with dinner but I found the nerve to ask, "Are you free for lunch tomorrow?" I told her that I wanted to try a local Edgar Allen Poe-themed restaurant. She agreed to meet me there at noon. Again, my head swam at the idea.
Sure enough, she was there right at noon. We picked right up from our chat the night before, talking about ourselves and learning about one another. By the time the bill came I gulped hard and laid my cards on the table. "I'd love to continue this conversation. I'd like if you would come back with me to my room and, if you were into it, I'd love to play. If not, that's fine. I'd still like to talk with you more. No harm, no foul."
I had to keep my jaw from hitting the floor when she agreed. I had the horrible feeling that I'd get back to my hotel and she'd never show up.
We sat and chatted some more, even talking a bit when I got down on the floor, removed her shoes, and began massaging her feet.
She began touching my head, rubbing the stubble of my freshly shorn skull. Such a little thing but it felt so good.
I got up onto my knees and rested my head on her chest while she continued to rub my head.
I pushed myself and made one, final bold move... I raised my head and kissed her.
From there, the scale tipped and all bold moves belonged to her...
Oct 12, 2012
I'm not sure if I've ever stated this on the blog before but I'm not circumcised. It's not something I've brought up because it's not something I think about. It's just me and it doesn't come to mind very often. It only ever crosses my mind when I hear pieces of the never-ending debate about whether it should be done or not. I was assaulted by such a discussion this morning when the clock radio went off, exposing me to the raving lunacy of the "morning zoo" on 96.3FM.
The way that the hosts (one male, two females) spoke about uncircumcised penises was akin to someone jeering at a circus sideshow of freaks. Suddenly, I had Frankenstein's monster between my legs according to these yahoos. The depth of these people's reactionary ignorance never fails to astound me but I don't usually feel like I'm being attacked the way I did this morning.
Listen to the offending discussion
Oversensitive? Perhaps. It just put me in a very strange mood this morning. Then, as things often do, it was followed up by a coincidence. A few hours later I got an email from a recent play partner who said, "I'm curious how it will be to actually have sex with someone who hasn't been circumcised... That will be a first." When I told her about how monstrous my member is seen by these morning show jerks her reply made me smile, "I like it. More to touch, more to nip with my teeth. It was difficult to keep my surprise in check so you didn't think I was repulsed. Which I was not."
Thank you. It's good to hear that my natural state isn't as disgusting as Blaine and Allyson would have be believe.