Time for Reflection

I don't think I slept at all that night. I was so very excited, yet I was confused -- twisted in knots actually. Where would all of this go? It's one thing to have secret fantasies, a private fetish, but it was entirely a different matter to share them with another person. Sami may have had an idea before, but she knew for certain now, and I'm sure at that point, knew much more than she had suspected.

It was a time of deep reflection for me. How would I proceed? I thought that maybe I should just try to ignore the whole incident, pretend that it had never happened. Would Sami allow me to do that? Is that what I wanted?

Fuck! What did I want?

What type of relationship would we have? Sami fell in love with a "man," but found herself married to a pantied ass sissy. I had utterly failed as her husband. We never had sex anymore. She had even stopped making sexual advances toward me, undoubtedly because of my many excuses -- the truth almost always being that I had already drained my little sissy clit.

So, what were my options? I went over scenario after scenario, trying to envision how I could piece together some sort of normalcy. On one hand, I could attempt to convince Sami that this was an aberration, an experiment that she happened to walk in on. Of course, even if she bought the premise, there was my little accident . . . but lot's of guys like spanking, don't they? Maybe, but they don't willfully lap up cum!

The gig was up! There was no easy way out. Sami had found out the real me and there was no denying who that was. I could try to convince her otherwise, but she'd just find out at a later date. I knew that I couldn't give up the thrill of femininity. The idea of never again feeling silken stockings on my smooth shaven legs was ridiculous. I thought about the sensuous pull of garter straps across my pantied ass, of luscious red lipstick painted on my puffy lips, of the bright clicking of high heels on pavement, a cool breeze under my skirt, and I had no doubt of their hold on me. I could no more turn my back on my inner sissy than I could just stop breathing.

Who was I kidding? The notion that I might try to curb my growing desire to be a sissy slut was laughable! Where had I taken my life? I couldn't any longer even picture myself as the man in our relationship, in any relationship. All of my dressing and primping, my dildo play, and yes my cumsumption had taken me irreversibly in one direction. Sami was right when she called me a little "Sissy Cunt!" For that's exactly what I had become.

I no longer wanted to fuck Sami, or any other woman for that matter. The disgusting truth is that I wanted to be fucked. I wanted to lay on my back, with my high-heeled feet in the air and have my sissy pussy stretched and pounded until I creamed like a cock craved whore.

I didn't want to pretend anymore. I wanted Sami to see the real me: to allow me to worship her female beauty the way I had always wanted, and to know how deeply I desired to be on my knees sucking hot cum from a hard cock.

I wanted to be treated like the pathetic little submissive bitch I really was.

The reality of my situation came like a slap across my face. I had no control. I was as helpless and dependent in all practical aspects as I was with my sexuality. Sami would do as she wanted, and there was nothing I could do. If she wanted to expose me to my workmates, she could. My family? That too was her call.

I would do exactly as Sami instructed, and just thinking of the possibilities made my little sissy clitty hard and wet.

Kisses