Monday, June 13, 2011

So what's a nice girl like Me...

doing in a glory hole? Yes, that's what I asked myself as I sat in the jacket pocket of my sissy slave.

I was pretty close to his heart, and I swear I could hear his heartbeat through the phone, but he was brave and I was encouraging. As you might already surmise, I was on his cell phone, a hidden witness to what for me is the underworld of cock. 

We had been planning this all week and now the hour had come.  Wearing panties and bra underneath his boy clothes, we discussed in the car, outside the Adult Store, what he needed to do.  In we went, and he paid the $10 to go to the back rooms.  We whispered, he took photos, and we waited...

Through the hole two fingers came, which apparently is a signal.  I can't actually remember if there was a signal back, but down my sissy went on bended knees.  Through the hole the cock appeared and I listened to the sounds of sucking from sissy's mouth. After a bit, the cock squirted (in a condom, I might add) and it was over without a leave or thank you.  My sissy felt proud of doing such a good job and having such a quick finale.  "Did I do good, Mistress" sissy asked, knowing full-well, she did!

She wanted more, which really surprised me because I thought one would do to satisfy a fantasy that had been held for years.  Silly me!  In to another room we ventured, and waited.  After a few minutes, we heard a door shut somewhere down the hallway.  Off we went, searching for more, and more there was.  But nothing quite as satisfactory as the first one. Sissy began to lose her pride and wondered why the cock disappeared without the finale.  I found the loss of pride to be so funny and laughed at my little sissy.

After awhile, we drove to another adult store.  In we went, and there they had a communal room (well, I'm sure it had a different name than that, but...)  I heard my sissy ask a man in there "Can I help you with that?"  I heard the reply of "No thanks, I've got it covered."  Poor sissy got a bit dejected from that, but back to a private cubicle room and a cock soon appeared.

After a bit, we decided to return to the first place where there was more activity in the rooms.  At this point, I advised that this time sissy should be on the receiving end, purely (pure?) to learn what her mouth must have felt like.  Always obedient, well, almost always, sissy went in and put her cock through the hole,  and that was sissy's finale.  What she didn't know, but will learn here when she reads this, is that I wanted the evening to end on a high note and not a negative note.  She was gungho to keep at it, but when does a sissy know when to stop?  She doesn't.  That's why she needs a strong woman to tell her "that's enough for tonight!"

I know sissy will have memories of this night for a very long time.  A fantasy finally satisfied.  I was happy to guide and help, and in truth I don't think sissy could have done this without a little 'English Courage' in her pocket.

I do not have an agenda for all sissies to suck cock.  Far from it.  But, I did rather enjoy the whole seediness of it all, the absolute disregard by receiver and giver for any human contact, other than the cock.  I don't believe the separation wall is there just for anonymity.  I believe it's there also because men who go to Glory Holes aren't gay... they are either cock pushing perverts or cock sucking kinksters. Either way, they aren't looking for a relationship of any sort.

What can be more humbling an act than sucking on a cock where the individual is of no regard.  In the case of this sissy, I know the primary emotion he had to feel was that he was pleasing Me. And he did, mainly because he actually followed through.   I've not giving his name here because if anything I am always discreet.  But let me say,  this sissy is a highly regarded professional, outstanding family man,  and has a lot to lose if he was ever caught. I think that was part of the thrill too--being such a slut on bended knees sucking on cock  in a glory hole was completely incongruent with, what is essentially, his inherent decent and moral character.  Maybe that's what made it fun for me too.

So, I sort of understand the one who sucks, and the conflicting needs that can pull him into the undertow, but the guy with the cock in the hole--well, he is more a pervert, isn't he?  His needs are much more base, aren't they?  He doesn't need to feel much of anything.  He's there just to get off, no?  So call me weird, but I have more respect for the one sucking, than I do for the one getting his cock sucked. Now, isn't that confusing for a sissy!  But hey, it's a complex, often confusing, sexual world, at least through my eyes.

A week later, we met again, not in his pocket because he was wearing a pink tank top, tight Lycra shorts, and panties on underneath, a few bangles around his wrist, and  lipstick on his lips.  We went to a conservation park and took a walk through some woods.  Back to nature.  No one around.  We spoke of glory and  agreed it should not be a regular foray.  As I type this I am now thinking of that song by Springsteen... Glory Days.

I changed the template of this blog.  I like to change things around.

Ms. Londoncalling
signing out.

Saturday, June 4, 2011

promised panties

As promised, panties are the subject of this new post. What can I say about panties?  Well, first off, panties are like the sissy's trademark--bit like the collar is for a submissive slave. The word 'panties' has always struck me as a silly sounding word.  Women usually refer to them as knickers or undies.  But, sissies love saying the word 'panties'. 

Another thing about 'panties' is the variety:  bikini, boy shorts, thong, brief, French cut; silky, lacy, cotton, nylon, Lycra, satin; selections coming in a cornucopia of colours. The choice in endless.  From full control to barely there. (Who can forget the scene in the film Bridget Jones' Diary when Hugh Grant reaches under Renee Zellweger's skirt to find her nylon full brief granny-panties and cries "Oh, mummmmmy!" )

And then there are the disappearing panties of laundry rooms, bedroom hampers, bathroom floors, undies drawers, and even in garbage bags left at the door of the local Goodwill.  Yes, I have spoken to a one who actually stole the garbage bag left at a charity shop just so he could pilfer a pair of panties for himself.  How bloody pathetic is that!!!  I gave him a right telling-off.   So, do I trust my undies drawer to be left unattended while the cable guy does wiring in my bedroom?  Absolutely not.  Would I trust any man to home-sit, pet-sit, keep his hands off my shit, while I am away on vacation?  Ummmm, no!  Panties are not safe when a man has a penchant for them.

Over the years, I have learned that for a many, it all begins when very young.  A curious boy goes searching through his mother's or sister's lingerie drawer.  What, in fact, drew him there that first time does vary, but the result is similiar - excitement staring into the forbidden drawer. He reaches in to touch, maybe takes a smell, perhaps rubs them over his face and then over his body, and then.. something even more exciting and strange happens.  He gets this tingly sensation down at his thighs, his heart beat quickens, his breathing becomes erratic, his brain is on overload and thoughts are scrambled.  He, almost instinctively, begins to touch his penis, and then... rather quickly,  its all over, and he's staring down in amazement at the gooey mess that just ejaculated from him  And so begins, the ongoing secret treks to the forbidden drawer.  For some it evolves into wearing bras, stockings, etc., and a lifelong yearning for 'more'.
             
And here, does anyone ever wonder, why is that a curious girl doesn't go to her father's or brother's underwear drawer and pull out a pair of Y-fronts?  And, why is that a curious girl doesn't grab the J C Penny catalogue and go straight to the men's underwear section?  And, why is it that a curious girl doesn't go through hampers or laundry rooms searching for the Y-front or a pair of cotton plaid boxers?

I'll tell you why.  Girls are sexually superior.  Even the most dumb blonde is sexually superior to the male.  Blame it on the cock.  We all do.

Panties are a regular topic of conversation when speaking to my sissies.  Some I humiliate, some I have warm feelings for--an understanding if you like.  Some I just laugh at.  I think it depends on what the pantie brings out in that gurl, and I am, after all,  responding  to the person and not the panties.  As my sissy callers know, I do love to laugh and love a good tease.  Two comments I received from panti-sissies the other week made me laugh.  One comment was that I was a 'posh wicked bitch' and this was from a pantie sniffing, little pervert who has called me on and off for years.  He brings the wicked out in me.  The next comment I received was 'Beverly, I'm going to pray for you'.  That was after he said I abused and exploited him.  I laughed at that, as it was a first.  I mean the praying comment.  I took umbrage at the abuse and exploit comment because as I had said to him before, I only reflect what is already there.  We have spoken for years and I was actually trying to be nice, gradually programming him to open up to his feminine side.  His resentment was more aimed at himself, angry that he was weak and he wanted to hit out.  I think he has said goodbye to me more than half a dozen times and each time comes back on his own volition.  But this time he said he was sad and I didn't like to hear that, so maybe he's gone for good.  There again, there's just as much chance that he will be back.  He had many demons to deal with.  I'll....... pray for him!

And then there is a gurl named robyn.  A sweet gurl.  In fact, a gurl trapped in a male body.  She needs so much more than just a pair of panties.  She wants it all, the whole shebang--to be a woman 24/7.  She yearns to feel desired and wanted by a man.  As she should, as a woman.  She is looking to me to help her feel more confident.

Well, one could go on all day about panties, and my pantie wearing sissies..  Let's finish with some photos.
Parah, La Perla, Agent Provocateur.  Love those designer panties.

On an aside:
A warm welcome to all my new followers. 
And, please do check out the new blog The Femme Fatale Chronicles.  (Warning: not for wimps).

Ms. London.