Just Called to Say Hello
We just did it once, right? Well, maybe a couple of times. Oh, it was innocent enough at first, but gurls will be gurls. We chatted online, then met for coffee; now two sissies playing lingerie show-and-tell, and slowly, seductively succumbing to the force of their own desires. Being more experienced, you enjoyed playing mind games to become "the Domme". I loved that, making me your wee sissy trainee plaything. It was fun.
Until my wife caught me. She found lingerie in the trunk of my car, and she knew my kinks well enough to figure out the rest. I naively admitted that I was rather smitten with dressing like a faggot and sucking my friend's cock, thank you very much. She's taking a few weeksat her sister's place to think things through.
That's why I jumped when the phone rang. It was you. You needed to talk. Do you remember how I tried to calm you? It was about your wife, you said. She knew, you said! She left. You seemed mildly traumatized, despite your frequent reassurances to yourself that it was for the best. My instinct to help was my undoing. I offered to come over. Honestly, I said it without thinking.
Your reply crystallized what I was beginning to realize for myself. "Don't say it aloud, but we both know the implications of you coming over right now." Two suddenly-single sissies consoling each other in a time of grief. I could picture it. With a start I realized that I liked picturing it. "You have to be prepared for two things: First, I won't even try to restrain myself. I will consume you utterly, and turn you into my sexual plaything. Second, you are growing increasingly aroused by the prospect." A moment passed, and you added quietly, "Don't speak."
A shiver passed through me. It was an induction. I always lost this game, and I wouldn't want it any other way. It was just the sort of thing you did often to keep me in line. Usually it was just your eyes and soothing voice, freezing me while you looked deep inside of me; knowing what you expected me to do or think, and then simply waiting until I complied.
A long time passed. Something took hold of me; my foggy thoughts progressing from knowing what you wanted, to wanting it myself, to realizing that I wouldn't be able to stop wanting it, to feeling unable to stop wanting it, to realizing that the wanting was winning, to obeying the wanting.
"I'll be right there," I said.
Until my wife caught me. She found lingerie in the trunk of my car, and she knew my kinks well enough to figure out the rest. I naively admitted that I was rather smitten with dressing like a faggot and sucking my friend's cock, thank you very much. She's taking a few weeks
That's why I jumped when the phone rang. It was you. You needed to talk. Do you remember how I tried to calm you? It was about your wife, you said. She knew, you said! She left. You seemed mildly traumatized, despite your frequent reassurances to yourself that it was for the best. My instinct to help was my undoing. I offered to come over. Honestly, I said it without thinking.
Your reply crystallized what I was beginning to realize for myself. "Don't say it aloud, but we both know the implications of you coming over right now." Two suddenly-single sissies consoling each other in a time of grief. I could picture it. With a start I realized that I liked picturing it. "You have to be prepared for two things: First, I won't even try to restrain myself. I will consume you utterly, and turn you into my sexual plaything. Second, you are growing increasingly aroused by the prospect." A moment passed, and you added quietly, "Don't speak."
A shiver passed through me. It was an induction. I always lost this game, and I wouldn't want it any other way. It was just the sort of thing you did often to keep me in line. Usually it was just your eyes and soothing voice, freezing me while you looked deep inside of me; knowing what you expected me to do or think, and then simply waiting until I complied.
A long time passed. Something took hold of me; my foggy thoughts progressing from knowing what you wanted, to wanting it myself, to realizing that I wouldn't be able to stop wanting it, to feeling unable to stop wanting it, to realizing that the wanting was winning, to obeying the wanting.
"I'll be right there," I said.
4 years ago
