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The first half of this post is going to piss you off, but before you delete me from your blog roll or leave me nasty comments can you read this all the way through…please.

<!–[if !supportEmptyParas]–><!–[endif]–> I’m not sure if this story got much press outside of Canada, so I’ll give you a thumbnail sketch. Willie Pickton is a local pig farmer who was arrested five years ago and charged with killing 26 women from Vancouver’s downtown eastside. This is regarded to be Canada’s poorest urban neighbourhood. For lack of a better term, skid row. Every city has a neighbourhood like this; we all know what it looks like. We also know what these women were; transient, drug addicted, sex trade workers. Pull your claws back in, I know they had names and lives. They were someone’s daughter, probably someone’s sister. But what they had become is relevant to my little rant.

<!–[if !supportEmptyParas]–><!–[endif]–> When the story first broke, it was front-page news for weeks. Every few days some more names were added to the list of victims. About this time I was watching my sons’ soccer practice and one of the other parents was a Vancouver City cop and we were talking about the case. During the course of the conversation, she admitted that they’d really dropped the ball (for years they’d insisted none of the cases were connected), but it wasn’t like they were now trying to blame Willie for every unsolved disappearance. (Though that’s how it seemed) They were looking at every unsolved case to see if he could have been involved. It was clear even in those first weeks that the scope of the investigation was HUGE (over the next five years, investigators would sift by hand the soil of two entire farms). I remember asking this woman if it wouldn’t be better just to gather the evidence on a handful of really strong cases. Have the trial and move on. She insisted the investigation needed to be thorough because those families needed to know what happened to their daughters. They needed to have closure. But the amount of resources that are going into this, can we really afford that luxury, I asked. She was appalled. I shut my mouth.

<!–[if !supportEmptyParas]–><!–[endif]–>Five years later the trial starts. The judge decides that trying 26 murders all at once would be too much for the jury and tells the prosecution to pick six. (I said that five years ago). Even with only six, this trial is expected to last an entire year. A high profile case like this will undoubtedly go to the Court of Appeal and then the Supreme Court of Canada. Three lengthy trials and that’s only for the first six. We don’t have capital punishment here so this will be going on for a very long time. I have no idea what’s been spent to date on police, investigators, criminologists, lawyers, journalists covering the story… but it must be a staggering amount.

<!–[if !supportEmptyParas]–><!–[endif]–> I was at a social gathering recently and the trial came up. I mentioned that I thought it had been a huge waste of money. They should have picked six to start out with and left it at that.

Don’t you understand about closure? I was asked.

We can’t afford it, I said.

What if it were your son?

I know where both of my sons are tonight, but if I woke up tomorrow and one of them was gone, of course I would move heaven and earth to find out what had happened. That’s not what happened here. These weren’t fresh-faced children plucked from the bosom of their family in the dead of night. These were badly damaged people and they’d been lost for a long time before Willie got a hold of them (if in fact he’s the monster he’s accused of being)

A community is all one family. It doesn’t matter how badly damaged a person is. We all have value.

It seems to me that 26 dead drug addicted hookers have far more social value then any number of living ones.

<!–[if !supportEmptyParas]–><!–[endif]–> That’s about the time the drink got tossed in my face and I was asked to leave. If I’d stayed, I’d have asked if they truly believed that the women living down there today are any safer then they were five years ago.


<!–[if !supportEmptyParas]–><!–[endif]–> Are you still here? Thank you. What I’ve written so far isn’t going to win me any popularity contests, but something happened this past weekend and it put it into perspective for me. ♀ & I went to an afternoon performance by the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra at the beautiful Orpheum Theatre. To get there we needed to drive through the heart of Willies old stomping grounds. We did what I’m sure most of you would do; made sure the windows were rolled up and the doors were locked. While waiting for a red light, I looked over and there was a little girl (maybe 10) sitting on the sidewalk eating a sandwich. There were lots of people around, but she didn’t seem to be with anyone in particular. I can’t get this kid out of my head.

<!–[if !supportEmptyParas]–><!–[endif]–> I’d like you to imagine that you and I are the parents of three daughters, a 30 year old, a 20 year old and a 10 year old. We both work so there’s money coming in. There’s never quite enough, but we manage to provide the necessities. We could borrow if we had to, but that has to be repaid eventually. The bottom line is there are limits to our resources.

<!–[if !supportEmptyParas]–><!–[endif]–> The oldest daughter had a rough start to life. You and I were having problems and we didn’t notice that she was hanging out with a bad crowd. She started doing drugs and staying out all night. We tried curfews, but she’d just take off. She was sixteen when she left for good. She was living in crack houses, selling her body to buy drugs. We haven’t heard from her in six years. We wonder what’s become of her. I think she’s probably dead. How long can a person survive living like that?

<!–[if !supportEmptyParas]–><!–[endif]–> The 20 year old, god help us, followed in her sisters footprints. Maybe we were so caught up in her sisters’ drama that we missed the signs. Maybe she thought that was the only way to get our attention. Who knows? But at least we know she’s alive. We hear from her once in awhile, usually she just wants money. She says it’s not for drugs, but we know better. She’s not the same girl anymore. Even if we could get her off the streets and off the drugs, what sort of life could she have? It’s not just her body that been damaged, her brain has been scrambled. Can she ever really recover from that?

<!–[if !supportEmptyParas]–><!–[endif]–> The 10 year old is still in school, but this is a tough neighborhood. We want her to have a better life then her sisters, I’m just not sure we know how to do that. How do we give her hope in a place like this?


I keep thinking about that little girl sitting on the sidewalk eating a sandwich and all those millions of dollars. Can you imagine the good that money would do if it were spent at the beginning of a child’s life rather then sifting through pig shit looking for teeth?

Think about that little girl on the sidewalk and tell me our priorities aren’t all fucked up.

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♀ works early mornings and is usually gone by the time I get home from work, but since she’s been going to school her days off are now mid-week. This past Wednesday night as I was leaving for work, she insisted that I call to wake her up when I was on my way home so she could get up and make me breakfast. I told her I’d probably be done early and was she sure she wanted to be woken up at 4:30am. She insisted, so I called. I was a nice guy and picked her up a coffee on the way home.

She greeted me wearing a skimpy red nightie and a smile and we had a very nice breakfast together (eggs with diced red peepers and cheese in wraps with strawberries and starfruit on the side; in case you wondered). After breakfast we had a shower together. That’s usually a night time activity for us, but she’d changed the bed the night before and really, is there anything nicer then shower clean and linen fresh?

We were both tired, but we made love. Quietly and efficiently would probably be a good description. Not that it was without passion. It’s just we needed to get to sleep, we both know what buttons to push and we both got what we needed with a minimum of effort. We fell asleep quickly while I spooned her. My wet cock nestled between the cheeks of her ass, my hand holding her breast.

♀ got up about two hours later to get ready for school. I played possum, watching her surreptitiously as she got ready for her day. First she peaked outside to see what kind of day it was then she picked out all her clothes and set them on her dresser. Next she examined herself in our two bedroom mirrors. She checked her breasts; frowned at the scars from her reduction and smiled at my hand print still visible on her right tit. She grabbed her belly fat with both hands and gave it a good shake. She examined her pussy then sniffed her fingers and as she was turning around to check her ass in the mirror I caught a glimpse of our dried love-making juices on her inner thighs.

She started getting dressed; first her bra, the new white one that does up in the front and a low cut blouse. Next the purple boy shorts with the tie at the back and the tight capri jeans. She sat on the edge of the bed to pull her socks on and I grabbed her and pulled her over. You can’t imagine how horny I was from watching my wife get dressed. I was ravenous, I had to have her. I tore at her clothes. I kissed her hard. I tongue-fucked her ear. I bit her neck. I squeezed her breasts together and pushed them up to her face. I pushed one nipple into her mouth while I bit the other one. I licked and nibbled my way down, down towards her pussy. Her outer lips still had my dried cum on them, and when I spread her apart, there was already a steady stream of fresh pussy juice. I dove in and ♀ started talking.

“My, my you certainly are an excited little boy today. Were you listening at the bedroom door when Daddy & I were making love? What have I told you about doing that? Do you like how I taste Baby? Do you like licking Daddy’s seed out of Mommy’s hot little cunt?”

I pushed her legs up towards her chest and started licking her ass, plunging my tongue as deep into her rosebud as it could go.

“Oh Baby, you know how much I love it when you play with my ass. You’re the only one I let do that.”

I moved up and sucked hard on her clitty, then down through her pussy to lick the juices that had pooled on her asshole; her juices, my juices, Daddy’s juices. I wanted to crawl inside her cunt and eat her from the inside out.

“Are you going to come all over the sheets like a sissy Baby or are you going to fuck me?”

“Get on you knees.”

“You’re so cute when you try to be forceful. Are you going to try and fuck me like a real…?”

I grabbed her hips and entered her fully in one hard thrust. She gasped and didn’t say anything for a few moments; just moaned while I fucked her incredibly wet pussy. Squelch, squelch, squelch.

“Is it me that’s got you so excited, or is it the sloppy seconds that have you so turned on Baby?”

I felt her reach underneath and cup my balls.

“That’s it isn’t it Baby, you just love knowing there’s another man’s cum all over your cock and balls.”

I pulled out for a second and went back down to lick up some of the excess girl goo, finger fucked her then moved back up between her thighs. I thrust back into her cunt and started playing with her ass with my pussy lubed fingers. I worked one then two fingers into her tight asshole. I could feel the shaft of my cock through her lining.

“You like touching yourself like that don’t you Baby? I bet you’re imagining it’s another man’s cock sliding along yours. What would be more of a turn on for you Baby, feeling another man’s cock rubbing against yours or seeing Mommy getting both her holes stuffed at once?”

Then I did something I’ve never done before. I slapped her ass. Hard. She yelped, my hand tingled and there was a perfect red imprint of my hand on her right cheek.

“You better not do that again, Baby. If Daddy sees marks like that on me, he’ll spank you with his belt.”

I slapped her again and again and again until her right butt cheek was a bright rosy red. Then with the two fingers still in her ass I felt something ♀ has often described. Through her lining, I could feel my cock thicken (a lot) then stream after stream of cum being pumped into her. When I was spent, I disengaged fingers and cock and she rolled over onto her back. Her pussy was a beautiful gooey mess and her fingers were already circling her clit.

“I really need to come now, Baby.”

I moved up to the head of the bed and reached over to her night stand. She took my still dripping cock into her mouth while I pulled various toys out. I lay back down beside her and whispered in her ear.

“Keep your eyes closed Mommy, I’ll help you come. You liked that as much as I did, didn’t you? You liked getting fucked by two different cocks in less then two hours, didn’t you? Guess what? I told some of my school friends about you? I told them how you let me fuck you. They didn’t believe me so I invited them over to see for themselves. You know what else? They video taped us today Mommy. I’ve got the whole thing on tape so now you’ll have to do exactly what I say or I’ll tell Daddy.”

She kept her eyes closed and smiled, her fingers never leaving her clit, the flush on her cheeks moving slowly towards her neck

“All my friends are horny from watching us. You’re going to let them have their way with you, aren’t you Mommy? My first friend is Tommy, he wants you really bad.”

And I slid her purple dildo all the way inside and slowly started fucking her. After a few moments I passed it up to her.

“Tommy wants to fuck your mouth for awhile. Now I want you to meet Jimmy. He’s not as long as Tommy, but he’s a little thicker.”

And I shoved the butt plug into her cunt. After a few minutes of that,

“I think Jimmy would much rather be in your ass.”

And I slowly worked the plug into place in her tight little ass. Tommy went into her pussy again then back to her mouth and then I introduced her to Bobby’s magic cock that could miraculously curl up like two thick fingers to stroke her G-spot. The flush on her cheeks had moved down to the tops of her breasts.

“You love your mouth, cunt and ass all being fucked at the same time don’t you Mommy?

“Yes Baby, I love being a slut. I love being your slut.”

“You know what else? I told my friends if they paid me $200 each I’d let them fuck any hole they wanted. That’s right, Mommy. Now you’re my whore and it’s all on tape. You fucked Daddy and me and three strange boys all in the same morning. I’ll never need to work again. I own you now.”

“Of fuck yes Baby, I love that you’re my pimp, I live to be your whore, I love being a cum dumpster.”

The flush had moved all the way down to her nipples when I felt the first few flutters in her pussy and when the first big orgasm started I curled my fingers and pushed up hard against the fleshy mound of her G-spot. Her fingers were a blur on her clit and when the second big O started, I slowly eased the plug out of her ass.

Her legs went rigid and she arched her back so she was only touching the bed with her head and heels and then she FUCKING GUSHED. It was intense. It was amazing, it was awesome. I got right down there for a front row seat. I’ve seen it in movies and read about it, but holy freakin’ doodle…we were soaked!

When she’d finally stopped coming, there were tears on her face, her braid had come undone, she couldn’t speak and she was really, really shaking. I held her for a long time afterwards, until she came back down to earth.

We needed to have another shower and change the bedding again. She needed a nap and was late for first class. She doesn’t think that orgasms like that should be a daily kind of thing, but she’s been in a really good mood lately.

Who says a sissy can’t be dominate once in awhile?
































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You Sexy Thing (revised)

April 22, 2007

♀ & I got a little off track this past week. Mostly it was about her feeling like my sissification had taken over our life. Sometimes she needs more Husband and less Sissy. I don’t see it as two separate entities so my feelings were hurt. I know when some cross-dressers get dressed, they adopt a feminine persona; Brad puts on a dress and becomes Janet, but that didn’t work for either of us. The following conversation took place over several days:

“My name isn’t Sissy, I am a sissy.”

“Sometimes it feels Sissy and Husband are two different things.”

“Like when?”

“Like when you’re dressed up.”

“You threw out all my men socks and underwear (except for silk boxers and dress socks) what am I supposed to wear?”

“Outer clothes; dresses, skirts…sometimes it feels like you’re more my girlfriend than my husband.”

“Even when I’m wearing a dress, I still think of myself as your husband.”

“Maybe it’s the D/s part of it that’s bothering me lately.”

“But you enjoy having your hair brushed and your feet filed and general pampering. Even before we started down this path you knew I wasn’t going to be the type of guy that would be changing the oil in your car or building you a picnic table.”

“*lol* I’ve never expected those sorts of things from you. It’s hard because you see any request for less sissy as a personal attack and I truly don’t mean it that way.”

“Well since you’re the Goddess, it seems to me that you should be able to make any demands. When we go to the symphony next week, tell me to pick out your clothes for a change or tell me I’m not allowed to wear anything girly. When we’re role-playing tell me you want to be the little school girl and I’ll be the nasty professor. Telling me you want me to bend you over the back of the couch and fuck you till your legs cramp up isn’t the same as me just doing it, but considering there’s lots you like about having a sissy for a husband; that might not be a bad compromise.”



We had this video on an old pc. ♀ loves it, so I thought I’d post it here.


YouTube Preview Image
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Half-Nekkid Boobies

April 19, 2007


Have I ever mentioned that I absolutely LOVE ♀’s body?

The pj’s she’s holding are silky and have cartoony pictures of lingerie all over them; bras, panties, girdles and garters. We share. She wears the top and me the bottom. (hmmm that sound familiar)

Cute AND sexy…♀ & the pj’s.



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Worst Date Ever

April 15, 2007

Sophia Kittenpants @ My Many Breakups held a contest awhile ago. this was my entry…

My worst date ever occurred while I was still living with the mother of my son. We had decided that even though we couldn’t stand the sight of each other, we would continue to cohabit for the sake of the child. It had been about a year since we’d had sex when I decided I was going to start dating. I told her that’s what I was doing and her attitude was basically, “do whatever the hell you want.” So I started trolling the on-line dating sites.

<!–[if !supportEmptyParas]–><!–[endif]–> I was honest about the situation I was in and I quickly discovered that the women whose profiles interested me were decidedly uninterested in guys still living with someone. At the time I couldn’t understand why, “trust me, we’re not really a couple anymore” just didn’t cut it. So my list of Qualities I’m looking for was basically reduced to “squats to pee”.

<!–[if !supportEmptyParas]–><!–[endif]–> My first date in more then ten years was with a woman who described herself as ‘voluptuous’.  Dictionary.com describes ‘voluptuous’ thusly: adjective 1.) having strong sexual appeal; 2. (of a woman’s body) having a large bosom and pleasing curves;

This woman did have a large bosom and she did have curves, but I think only a fetishist would have found them pleasing. She must have been close to 300 lbs (I’m not kidding).

<!–[if !supportEmptyParas]–><!–[endif]–> The plan was dinner and a movie so we met at a restaurant close to the theatre and I was more then a little surprised when she arrived with her two daughters age 10 & 12. After we were seated, this woman suggested (read informed) that I pay for dinner for all of us and she would pay for the movie tickets. The girls were going to a kid movie and we would go to an adult movie.

<!–[if !supportEmptyParas]–>Things started to go badly when the waiter came to take our drink order. They didn’t have the right type of cola and she tore a strip off him for that. The restaurant was featuring Cajun food that night so they had several ’blackened’ dinner specials. She apparently had never heard of this particular culinary motif. “Jezzus Christ, if I wanted my dinner blackened, I’d just get my daughters to cook it.”

<!–[if !supportEmptyParas]–><!–[endif]–> The duration of the meal was spent with her loudly criticizing absolutely everything about the restaurant; the look of the place, the music that was playing, the smell of the restroom, the food, the staff, even snide comments about the other patrons. Meanwhile the two charming daughters grilled me about things I’m pretty certain had been previously suggested to them; how much I earned, how long I’d worked there, what my dad had done for a living, who I’d voted for in the last federal election, how many times had I been married, did the mother of my son know that I was out with their mother…

<!–[if !supportEmptyParas]–><!–[endif]–> I should have just paid for my meal and got the hell out of Dodge, but I didn’t. I paid for everyone’s dinner and went with them to the theatre. As we were walking across the parking lot she informed me that she gets incredibly wet during sex and that she orgasms very easily. Then she thrust her ample chest in my direction and said, “These puppies are 100% natural.” Her daughters were very amused.

<!–[if !supportEmptyParas]–><!–[endif]–> As I mentioned before, it had been a long time since I’d got laid and I remember that I wanted to see the movie so I decided to see it through to the end. We got into the theatre and the mother needed to use the washroom again and the daughters wanted to eat again. They were in front of me in the snack bar line when I looked over and saw a good friend of my soon to be ex’s. If she saw me with this woman she would call the soon to be ex to rat me out. Then she’d describe the woman I was out with and the soon to be ex would laugh at me and gloat. I could not stand the thought of that. So with the girls still in the line up and their mother still in the washroom I bolted.

<!–[if !supportEmptyParas]–><!–[endif]–> Of course I couldn’t go home that early or else she’d know that the date was a bust, so I went to a neighbourhood pub to drink beer and feel very sorry for myself. And that was the worst date ever.

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Yeah I know, I’m fully clothed. So this shouldn’t really count for HNT. I hope I don’t get kicked out of the club.

As I’ve mentioned before, Easter is a very busy time for sweaty bakers, but I did get Good Friday off. Unfortunately, ♀ had to work and being her ‘Monday’ when most other people had the day off didn’t make her a happy camper when I woke her up at 3:30 in the a of m. I did have her coffee and breaky made and her lunch packed so we were able to cuddle for a few extra minutes.

I went downstairs to pour her coffee and dish breakfast out and when ♀ came down I was very surprised to see that she’d brought the butt plug and harness (the plug we have is too narrow for me to wear for extended periods of time so I need to use the harness she wears when she uses the strap-on). She told me to take off my nightie and bend over the table. I did as she instructed and she slowly worked the lubed plug into my tight little ass hole. After it finally popped into place she sat down, sipped her coffee and watched as I got into the harness. She motioned me towards her and she took my hardening cock into her coffee warmed mouth. She licked and sucked and fondled me until I was fully erect then stopped and told me to put my nightie back on.

“I think” she said as she got ready to leave, “You should finish the laundry, do the dishes, water the plants and get some writing done. I’ll call you later to tell you when you can take that plug out of your ass. And remember, NO masturbating.”

Plug in bum and silky nightie on hard wet cock made concentrating on chores and not on self pleasure difficult, but I did it. I was just sitting down at the computer when she called to tell me I should bring her a coffee and she’d meet me outside at 6:45. She’d take her lunch break with me.

I went upstairs to get dressed and decided I wanted to wear pantyhose. The feeling of being encased in a nice pair of nylons is one of my favourite parts of cross-dressing. Plus I’d just shaved my legs the night before and I LOVE the feel of stockings on freshly shaved legs.*

* OH, that’s something new. I wrote a post quite awhile ago about shaving; things have changed a bit since then. ♀ trims my pubes and pits with the clippers when she does my head and face, but she allows me to shave my lower legs (knees to ankles). Actually, she doesn’t like stubbles so I need to shave them a couple of times a week. (Being girly is a lot of work).

Anyway, while I was looking for the pantyhose I found a lovely dark green push-up bra I hadn’t worn in a long time and of course that meant I needed to put in my silicone inserts and one thing led to another and in no time I was all dressed up. I put on lipstick and rouge, a bit of eyeliner, some perfume, a little gold chain and clip-on earrings. I was admiring myself in the mirror when I realized that it was almost time to go and it was getting daylight out. I really hadn’t planned on going out like that. I was just having fun and time slipped away. I had never gone out dressed so overtly feminine before. I’ve been out in women’s clothes before, but the sort of thing that may or may not get read. There was no doubt about how I looked on Friday. We live in a townhouse complex and I would need to walk across the parking lot to get to my car and I had no idea how ♀ would react. She’s been very supportive, but she might be upset at me being out like this. Especially where she works. What if one of her co-workers came out to have lunch with us?

You can’t believe how nervous I was. But I scurried out to my car and went through the drive-thru for the coffee (the girl at the window didn’t even notice) and when ♀ came out and walked to the car I was shaking so badly I couldn’t even hold on to my coffee cup. She was surprised, but not in a bad way. She suggested that we not stay right there as people were coming and going all the time. She only had a 30 minute lunch break so we drove to a nearby office building; deserted for the holidays and parked in the back.

I went outside and she took some pictures of me. Then she told me to walk to the end of the building and back for her. “You have a much more feminine walk when you’re wearing the butt plug”, she said.

“Maybe it’s the shoes.”

“No, I’ve seen you walk in heels before. You swing your hips more. I can always tell when you’re wearing it.”

♀ was in the drivers seat when I got back to the car so I got in the passenger side. She put her hand on my thigh and said, “You do look pretty today Baby.” Then she leaned in close and kissed me. She kissed me the way I imagine fantasize two women kiss. She started nibbling my neck and whispered in my ear, “mmm you even smell pretty.”

She reached around, grabbed the lever and reclined my seat all the way down. Then she started fondling me, “I love how full your tits feel in this bra, Baby.” Her other hand was sliding slowly up my nylon clad leg and my cock, still tucked up towards my ass (for that no-bulge girly look) was starting to ache. She reached underneath me and maneuvered my cock into a more comfortable position and as she was stroking it she asked, “Do you think you could cum, Baby? I need to be back at work in 15 minutes.”

I’d been in an almost constant state of arousal for over 3 hours and I so needed release. She knelt in front of me and the sight of her long blond hair coming out from under my skirt was a huge turn on. She started licking my cock then sucking my balls through the nylons and the feeling was…exquisite.

She looked up at me from between my legs.”Play with your tits, Baby. You know I love seeing you do that.” She stroked me with one hand and with the other she reached underneath me and started playing with the base of the butt-plug. “You’re such a naughty girl, going out dressed so pretty. What a little tease you are coming to my work looking like that. You knew how excited you’d get me, didn’t you? What would you have done if someone else had seen you first, Baby? Would you have let anyone fuck you? Are you a little slut now Baby?”

She kept talking to me like that while she stroked my cock and teased my ass and stared lustfully into my eyes while I played with my breasts. And when I came for her it was a torrent of cum and she slurp slurp slurped on the head of my dick, sucking my juices through the nylons until I was done.

She kissed me again; like I imagine fantasize two women might kiss after some hot lesbo sex in a Mini Copper behind a deserted office building on a Good Friday morning. Then I drove her back to work. I scurried back across the parking lot and the phone was ringing when I got into the house. “You can take the butt plug out now , Baby,” she said. “Pleasant dreams.”


















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Dough Surgeon

April 8, 2007

Except for three years in the mid ’80’s, I have been a baker of bread aka dough surgeon since 1981 and for more then 20 years after every major holiday I’ve decided that I’m to old for this shit. It’s a hot, sweaty and very labour intensive way to earn a living. And anytime you need to double or triple you’re production in a shift (Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving) it takes its toll.

One perk of being a baker is that there’s always beer in the bakery. I did my apprenticeship with a German and he always said you should have a beer after work to wash the flour dust out of your throat before it gets into your lungs. (’White lung’ is a common ailment of bakers.) I worked for a Dutchman for a few years and one of the products we made was beer bread and the bakers were allowed to drink one beer per shift. I’ve worked for an Englishman for the past 19 years and he says bakeries and breweries were traditionally part of the same business. They both revolve around the production of yeast and that’s why any decent bakery should have beer in the cooler. Or it could be we’re just a bunch of drunks.

There are a few perks for ♀ as well. Obviously fresh baked bread is one, but she also like how I smell when I get home. Man sweat mixed with the smell of the bakery is apparently very pleasing to her. Even when she’s not home to enjoy it in person she insists that I not have a shower before I go to sleep so she can cuddle up to my pillow and smell me when she goes to bed.

Another thing she is very fond of are my hands. Bakers have very strong hands, but unlike most other trades, my hands are smooth and not calloused. The only occupation I can think of that would be comparable is a massage therapist. But unlike a masseuse I can hold onto things that are very hot; like husking corn-on-the-cob right off the BBQ, or holding hot dishes (♀ *lol*) at the table while she dishes out.

Speaking of hands, do you know what’s weird? I remember my Dad as having huge muscular hands, but when ♀ proposed to me   she used his wedding band and it wouldn’t go past my first knuckle.

Anyway, the next time you’re trolling for men or trying to come up with a fantasy guy you might want to consider a dough surgeon. And if you happen to enjoy having your breasts kneaded like loaves of raw bread dough*, well then you should find yourself a baker.

* ♀ has pretty much cured me of that.



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Half-Nekkid Sissy Maid?

April 5, 2007


I have an amazing wife. She got married (the 1st time) right out of high school and was pregnant within a year. Six weeks after the baby was born her hubby announced that he was gay and really wasn’t into the whole wife and kid thing. There she was, 19 yrs old on welfare with a baby and no help from the deadbeat dad.

When I met her 12 years later she owned her own home, her own car, she’d lost a ton of weight , she’d quit smoking and she was doing a great job raising her son. He’s graduating from high school this year, she’s been at the same job for 14 years and she’s ready for a change. So besides working full time, she’s going to school full time this semester. She works early mornings and weekends to get it all done. The program she’s taking is for women wanting to re-enter the work force or women like ♀ wanting to make a career change.

It helps them not only figure out what to do next, but also how to get there (deciding to become a brain surgeon is not always practical). It’s a 16 week course and covers a lot of stuff. She’s doing lots of interviews to find out about different jobs. This past week they learned about conflict resolutions, the week before that she did a very cool Power Point presentation. She absolutely loves going to school and is amazed at all the possibilities that could be available to her.

Many of these opportunities will require more education so she took an English and math assessment to find out where she was at. She did fine with the English, but bombed the math. Her instructor gave her a text book and told her rather then pay for a course right now she should work on her own and when she got up to a higher grade level, then take a course (if she needs it). So she’s been working sweating over this math book for the past couple of weeks. I came home the other day and she’d just finished a self test on the chapter she was doing. She was so excited. She said, “I got every question right! I understand this. I’m not stupid.”

I was thrilled for her, of course, but it also broke my heart. It reminded me of just before her Christmas party. She got her hair and make-up done and bought a new dress and shoes and when she looked in the mirror she said, “I’m beautiful.” Not gloating, but genuinely astonished. How can she not see that she is beautiful and brilliant? I see it every day.

Anyway, one of the jobs she’s looking into pays more then what she and I earn together. She’s decided that if she gets it, I should quit my job and be her full time bitch. The more she thinks about it, the more she likes the idea. I could write every day while she’s at work and when she’s home I would wait on her hand and foot. I think she also like the idea that if I wasn’t working, I couldn’t make support payments to the evil ex.

I wasn’t taking it very seriously. I started delivering newspapers when I was 10. I’ve never been out of a job for more then a month. I just assumed I would work until I dropped dead. This week is Easter and I don’t know about where you live, but around here Easter in the bakery is all about hot-cross buns. Yesterday after working an 11 hour shift, I dreamt about hot-cross buns. I pulled rack after rack of buns out of the proofer and they had all turned colour. Racks of fluorescent red, yellow and blue buns started chasing me around the bakery. It wasn’t scary, it was just really annoying that I would need to make all those buns over again. When I woke up, I felt like I had just finished another shift.

So maybe being a full time sissy bitch isn’t such a bad idea. ♀ hasn’t had the time to make this yet, but we did buy the above pictured dress (isn’t it adorable?) and since I’m not actually ‘out’ she thinks I could wear it as my sissy maid’s dress. What do you think?




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Interview Me(me)

April 1, 2007

These meme things are a fun way to get to know more about people.

Here’s how it works. (Oh, by the way my instructions are pretty much blatantly stolen from Lady Julia’s Blog)

The Rules:

1) What sort of things aside from blogs do you enjoy reading?

I read a lot of erotica (mostly by female authors), the most recent novel I read was Life of Pi by Yann Martel. I love searching through dusty used book stores, just this past week I found a collection of early works by John Updike, Mae West on Sex, Health & ESP And I bought The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove by Christopher Moore because I loved the title and the back cover copy:

“The town psychiatrist has decided to switch everybody in Pine Cove, California, from their normal antidepressants to placebos, so naturally - well, to be accurate, artificially - business is booming at the local blues bar.”

2) Have you ever considered being hypnotized either for a therapeutic reason or for a more erotic adventure?

I had never considered it, but I’d be willing to try anything once. Twice if I liked it.

3) You’re win a cash prize of $25,000. How did you win it and how will you spend it?

The advance royalties on my killer first novel (soon to be written) would be spent taking ♀ to Australia for a honeymoon. You see she proposed to me and has often asked if I ever would ever have got around to asking her and if I did ask her, how would I have done it. See the next question for those answers.

4) You want to create a special, romantic evening for you wife. An evening that’s 100 percent all about her. What would you do?

This is where I would propose(click on the more info tab for the sweetheart evening flight), the arrangements would be made here, of course we would need to visit here followed by dinner here and finally a wedding night (or two) here.

5) When you think about the possibilities for all things FemDom, what’s something you’d truly love to experience but haven’t yet?

I would love to serve at a lingerie/sex toy home party hosted by ♀. The guests would all be female and totally comfortable with me dressed in this. I’d serve drinks and appys, help with displays, maybe model some outfits and demonstrate toys, give massages (feet, shoulders and..), paint nails, brush and braid hair. Some of the more adventurous guests might even want me to trim their pubes (each one different of course) They would be very impressed (I hope) with how wonderful having a sissy for a husband could be and ♀ would be very pleased. At the end of the night when everyone else had left, ♀ would invite one special guest to spend the night with us and see what else a sissy is good for.*wink*

So, does anyone want to be interviewed?



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