Man of the House

I sat there listening to the rhythmic squeaking of the bed springs with the accompaniment of what I knew to be the headboard smacking against the wall. Added to the soundtrack were the squeals of my wife together with grunts and obscenities being emitted by her male companion. I didn’t need to go up the stairs to the bedroom to confirm what was making all these noises; she was being fucked by the current Black boyfriend.

Indeed, I couldn’t have interfered for, as ever, I was naked except for the lacy panties I was told to wear and firmly tied to the chair on which I sat, unable to call out and voice any protest. She had made sure before she left the sitting room that the gag that covered my mouth was equally firmly tied. I never knew for just how long I would be restrained and rendered helpless, it was a decision that was, literally, out of my hands and my humiliation was made all the more complete because I tried so hard to appear to the outside world that I was the ‘man of the house’ and, clearly, as I sat with tears streaming down my face and my stiff little cock restrained by the lacy knickers, I was anything but a man.

However, I should not have been surprised about the day’s turn of events for this had been the norm for a few years now and the foul-mouthed Tyrone was just the latest in a stream of her ‘admirers’. I never questioned the where/why/who she found and bought home. Indeed, I was grateful that she did chose to bring them to the house for there had been occasions when we had been out socialising and she had blatantly demonstrated her preference and affection for Black men rather than be spending time in my company and that had caused me the most awful embarrassments. She didn’t care what other people might think but I was always mortified to be humiliated in such a comprehensive way.

So there I sat, trying to block out the sounds from above my head and forcing my mind to range over anything that might divert me from visualising their rutting. Bizarrely, as the rhythmic knock of the headboard forced its way into my conscience, all that came to mind was that I would soon have to redecorate as the marks on the wall had become quite significant given the frequency at which this happened. I shook my head to dislodge that stupid idea and, as so often, I concentrated more on what had given me pleasure in my past and what ultimately had led me to where I sat today.


I never knew my Father, apparently the reality of becoming a parent was too much for him to contemplate and he took his responsibilities with him when he left Mommy the day I was born, or so Mommy said. As I grew up there were no other men in my world and so I had no male ‘role models’ or masculine influences to mould me. Mommy, her sisters and my cousins (all girls) were the only providers of attitudes and stimulus so it was no wonder that I had a feminist streak to my outlook on life. Certainly I never questioned my upbringing and I was good little boy who did exactly as I was told albeit that Mommy did always refer to me as being ‘the man of the house’.

We lived out of town on an isolated plot and, especially in the Summer, it was not unusual for us to be bothered with conventional stuff like clothing. Mommy was what would now be known as a ‘free spirit’ and to be naked was just one of her quirks. She was also a firm advocate of breastfeeding and up until I started Grade School we would both enjoy the intimacy that came from me sitting on her lap and for me to take a nipple and be suckled by one of her lovely tits.

I also look back with fondness to us sharing bath time and I would delight in her taking great care in washing me and playing with what she called my ‘little Willy’. Nothing came of it at that early age and it never became an embarrassment but I did so love the feel of her hands on me. She used to joke that I would make a girl very happy one day but I never understood or quite knew what she was talking about.

My love of wearing ladies’ clothing stemmed back to those times as well. Auntie, Mommy’s sister, every month used to collect clothing and other stuff from around her neighbourhood to take to the Thrift shops and Goodwill stores in town. She claimed she was doing it as an act of charity but looking back I’m thinking she was just being nosey and saw it as an opportunity to get free things. She would always bring her latest haul to our house before taking them to town and together she and Mommy would go through and pick out anything they thought was worth keeping.

I remember distinctly the time when the bag contained some little girl dresses collected from a house where the prosperous resident was clearing out her growing ********’s wardrobe. Auntie said it would be useful to see how they looked being worn rather than just holding them up.

I was, as usual, taking great interest in their rummaging and before I knew it Mommy had taken the dress she was holding and slipped it over my head and naked body (it was Summer). They looked approvingly at the pretty party dress and made me spin around so that they might get a complete picture. I wasn’t in the slightest bit embarrassed and as I moved I loved the feel of the satiny material against my skin and delighted in all the girly bows and lace trimmings.

I recall that Auntie made some jokey comments about me now being the little girl that Mommy would have liked rather than a nasty little boy. It was said as a tease but, as they say, ‘many a true word is said in jest.’

There were a few dresses to be ‘modelled’ and I made no objection as one after the other I was made to parade around so that they could be examined in better detail. It was also the first time I recall that I had an erection. Whether my stubby little ‘stiffy’ was noticed was of no interest to me but I do know that I used to look forward to the next month’s visit by Auntie and the chance to try on a new wardrobe.


I was jerked out of my reverie by the sound of someone coming down the stairs. By the footfall I knew it was Tyrone and, sure enough, I caught sight of him as he switched on the Kitchen light and then disappeared from view. I followed his progress around the kitchen by the noises he was making, the fridge door opening, the snap of beer can tabs, closet doors being shut, etc. He soon reappeared holding the beer cans and he wandered over to me to gloat at my predicament of being tied and bound in my chair; I wasn’t surprised, it was always the same. He would stand there in front of me until he was certain I could see his semi-erect cock which was slick with the evidence of his last ejaculation and her juices. He would take a swig from his beer and then setting the cans aside would come closer in the pretence of checking the tightness of my bounds. Sometimes he might deign to say something, mostly not, but always he would ensure that his dripping cock would brush against me so that by the time he retrieved the beers and retreated once more I would be literally smeared with his cum on my arms or wherever he had touched me with that monstrous tool. If he noticed that my cock had dribbled copious amounts of pre-cum through the material of my panties onto the seat it was never mentioned.

I heard the bedroom door click shut and I returned to my thoughts.


I couldn’t accurately recall my emotions and thoughts at the time when I first saw a cock other than my own. It was during the first summer vacation after I began at Middle School and I was invited to go and play at a friend’s house. His older brother was there and we had a fine time playing some kind of wrestling game which involved a lot of grappling each other and rolling about on the bedroom floor and furniture. The Mom yelled up at us to calm down and as I lay back on the floor getting my breath the brother pointed and sniggered at me telling my friend to look at my ‘woody’. I had no idea what he was talking about and said so; he said something about, ‘your stiff dick, you dick!’ Then I understood for I became aware that all our horsing around had caused me to get excited with the result that my cock was indeed tenting my pants. My friend laughed and said that he bet I liked wanking. Again I was ignorant as to what he was referring. Exasperated he unzipped his pants and pulled out his own cock which like mine was a stiff fleshy rod but in contrast to mine was considerably bigger. He proceeded to grasp and rub his hand up and down its length and said, “That’s wanking”.

I nodded and admitted that I did do the same; it was just that up until that moment nobody had told me what it was called, the thing from which I got so much solitary pleasure from doing back home.

They then asked me to pull mine out. I do not remember how long after that we started things with his brother, it was not long I am sure. It all seemed so natural and innocent the three of us young boys sitting there with our stiff cocks for each to see and compare. I was intrigued to see the older brother had hair growing around the base, I didn’t know that could happen, but my friend’s was as bald as my own. I held myself while I looked upon the other two who had begun to stroke themselves in earnest and it was clear from the way they spoke to each other that they had engaged in mutual masturbation before. It was so exciting to see how they were obviously enjoying what they were doing but I was taken aback when the next thing my friend did without any prompting was to lean over his brother and take his stiff cock into his mouth just like he was about to eat a sausage. At first I was disgusted but then as I became used to the sight I could see that both of them had no such hesitations and that both were enjoying doing something that my juvenile brain had never, ever contemplated.

The older boy began to grunt and buck his hips which caused his brother to lift his head clear of the wet cock that now looked even bigger. Without any warning the spit and dribble of some white stuff came from the piss hole and that’s what I thought, that he was taking a piss. My feeling of disgust returned as I saw the runny cream but I soon realised it wasn’t piss, it was my first sight of spunk; something that I had yet to produce. Seeing my confused reaction they both apprised me of what I was seeing and giggled at my ignorance.

That afternoon was one of complete revelation and the beginning of my fascination with other boys’ dicks. As the summer progressed my education was continued and it was not too long after that introduction that I was to enjoy with my friends the pleasure that come from blowjobs, both giving and receiving.


I was so lost in my reverie that I wasn’t aware that anyone had come down the stairs until hearing the splash and tinkle of someone pissing in the downstairs toilet alerted me. I opened my eyes and awaited the appearance of my wife for I knew from hearing that particular ‘toilet tune’ it could only be her. Sure enough to the accompaniment of the toilet being flushed she made her naked entrance into the sitting room and even though it was quite dark there was no missing the smirking expression on her face or the slick reflection of juices that were coating her legs.

She came over to me and in a show of concerned she placed the palm of her hand against my cheek. “How are you little man?” she said in that mocking tone that I knew so well.

I tried to move my head away from her touch but it was futile as my bonds restricted my movements very effectively. She glanced down at my lap and saw that I was sitting in a wet patch on the seat cushion. “Oh dear, have you been getting excited again listening to us?”

I dropped my head and had I been able to speak I could not deny the evidence of the stain caused by my pantie-clad cock that had dribbled pre-cum. I also wasn’t able to tell her that it wasn’t only hearing them that might be responsible but, rather, the thoughts and pictures that had been going through my head which had nothing to do with them.

“Well,” she sneered, “after making that mess you deserve to be made to sit here a bit longer.” With that scathing comment she dropped her hand to my chest and finding my nipple grabbed and twisted it so that even through my gag my scream of pain could be heard. She made no apology for the hurt she had caused but rather whispered in my ear, “Why don’t you amuse yourself for a bit longer because I’ve still have some business to attend to upstairs.” Blinking back my tears I watched her as she retreated back to the bedroom.

I would never have admitted but I was pleased to see her go for I was quite content to sit in the gloom and return to my thoughts. The noises that drifted downstairs only served to be an appropriate background soundtrack to the sexual pleasures that I was revisiting in my head.


I never fully admitted to Mommy what I had been getting up to when I went out to play with my friends but in the spirit of openness that existed in my house and the sort of questions that I asked her about ‘the creamy stuff’ it must have been obvious to her that we hadn’t just been playing ball games, well, not the usual kind of ball games. She didn’t probe to discover what it was about my newfound interest in sexual matters and I’m guessing she accepted it as being a natural part of my growing up and that it was good that my curiosity was being satisfied.

As was her way she continued to wander around the house and our secluded yard half naked and only wore panties whenever she needed some covering or protection whenever household chores were being done ... which was not very often. I began to take more interest in the sight of a naked female and it was no surprise that my little cock used to get good and hard. She wasn’t fazed by my inevitable reaction and indeed regarded it as being complimentary. She would sometimes tease me by walking around the house in a deliberate provocative manner which was guaranteed to give me a woody and then one day when I thought she was preoccupied with something in the bathroom she caught me peeking at her and stroking myself. I was embarrassed as I thought I was being discrete but she laughed to think that I was jacking off because of her presence. She stood in front of me and softly stroked her hand up and down her slit and insisted I carried on wanking till ‘completion’. It was the first time that I produced my own’ cream’ and we were both delighted.

That was the first of many times that we would mutually masturbate and I learned more about the female body than I could ever have done in ‘Sex Ed’ at school. I was never allowed to fuck her, she was much too proper and traditional to allow that, but she seemed to get great enjoyment from seeing my spunk and time-to-time letting me ejaculate all over her large titties. She liked it even more if I was dressed in one of the little girl dresses that we had retained from the charity bag. I suppose it made it less naughty in her crazy way of thinking.


Things got even crazier the next year.

We all knew Mr. Evans; his back yard ran along the scrubby bit of land that we called our baseball field. He had thrown back many of our foul balls. Indeed, he was a nice guy and had even bought us new baseballs a few times and taken some of us to the mall for ice cream. Yes, Mr. Evans seemed like a very nice man and on a hot summer day I had no idea how my life was about to change.

I was riding my bike past his house when he yelled out to me and asked if I could help him move a heavy case in his garage. He was doing some renovation or home improvement and had a lot of stuff to move.

I didn’t hesitate to do as he asked (after all Mommy had bought me up to be a help) and after we had shoved this heavy box into the garage he offered me a glass of lemonade as my ‘wages’. As he made our drinks I sat at his kitchen table and looking around I saw a couple nudie magazines laying there.

He acted kind of embarrassed and said something like, “Oops, I should have put those away,” but without any conviction. Seeing I wasn’t concerned he made some comment like, “Oh well, go ahead and look at them you’re a man now.”

What 13 year old would not have wanted to; the invitation to look at pictures of naked women was irresistible. Sipping my lemonade I tried to look casual but it was clear that I was getting aroused. Feeling a bit ashamed I gulped the last of my drink down and said I needed to get home.

He thanked me for my help then added he had a couple more cases he needed to move and if I was around tomorrow he sure would appreciate it if I was around. I don't know if my ‘sure’ was me being just polite or if it was my thoughts of seeing some more nudie magazines. Whatever, I agreed to come over the next day around 10 to help.


He had me park my bike in his garage and it took only a few minutes to move and stack the cases, a task which was then followed by the offer of lemonade.

We went into the kitchen and there they sat; a stack of nudie mags on his kitchen table. He looked at me and said he saw how I liked the ones yesterday and thought as a reward for my help I'd like to look at some others.

I didn’t say either yes or no but as I looked through the stack there was one really caught my attention. It wasn't even a nudie mag; it was a Detective Magazine with a bound and gagged woman on the cover. (At that time I was a big fan of the old Superman TV show. Not so much for Superman but because I loved seeing Lois Lane tied up.) The content of the magazine itself was disappointing but Mr. Evans noticed and made some comment about my interest in the cover.

After flicking through a couple of the other nudies I again said I needed to be going home. Mr Evans told me that he had other Detective Magazines and if I came by tomorrow he'd have them out for me. I should have known better but I did want to see them and agreed with a nonchalant ‘sure’. He stressed that my parents may not like me doing so and it would be best if this was our secret.

Another ‘Sure’ and he told me to come by about 10 and to park my bike in the garage.


This day there were stacks of magazines and a more varied assortment. Not only were there nudie and Detective Magazines but also magazines that featured bondage. At that age I didn't even knew the word ‘bondage’ but I was hooked as soon as I saw them.

We sat on his couch with me drinking lemonade and Mr. Evans sipping a beer as I went through them. By the time I had scanned through the first one my little dick was so hard and tenting my shorts.

Mr. Evans was flipping through different mags and all the time asking me a ton of questions about myself. Occasionally he would hold over a picture and ask what I thought and making a comment like, “Damn, I'd like to have this one in bed,” while at the same time rubbing himself as he did. The pictures he showed me were getting progressively more graphic; women being fucked; a woman sucking a man's cock and then one of a man sucking another man's cock. That one grossed me out and I said I had better go home.

He said he understood but again stressed to me that this was our little secret and it would be best if no one else knew of it. I said I wouldn't tell a soul. With that he told me if I wanted to come back maybe it would be better if I came through his back yard.

I told him I did want to come back, told him my mom worked tomorrow and could I come then. He smiled, told me tomorrow would be good and us men would just hang out together.

‘Us men’ and ‘hang out’ that sounded so good to me. It would be the day that changed my life.


I walked over to the baseball field, strolled down left field and then ducked into Mr. Evans backyard knowing that the fence, trees and bushes blocked anyone from seeing me. He greeted me and already had such an assortment of magazines laid out for us. He told me to come in and said us guys would just relax and enjoy the day.

He poured me lemonade and opened himself a beer but also asked if I'd like to have a beer instead. I had tasted beer before but had never really ‘*****’ one. With my mother gone for the day and her absence making me feel like a man I said ‘sure’ and so the lemonade was forgotten.

He gave me time to get relaxed sipping on my beer and into a magazine before asking me if I had gone home yesterday and masturbated. I don't think I even knew what the word meant and his question took me by surprise (it took some time before I realised it was another word for wanking!). Without waiting for my answer he said it's ok, all men masturbate and went on to tell me that's what men do when they need relief and haven't a friend to help them.

He let that thought ride for a while and then he started to show me pictures and making comments. He asked if the picture yesterday of the two men had upset me. I told him no, it was just something I had never seen before. He told me that it was something that male friends did for each other; something they did for each other when they needed relief. I said ok and sipped on my beer and got into looking at pictures of a beautiful red headed woman being tied up by a burglar and stripped.

Noticing my boner (my little dick was so hard) Mr. Evans said, “I can see you really like those pictures.” I felt a little ashamed, maybe even blushed and turned a little red. Mr. Evans said that I'd be needing relief before long and with that he pulled his cock from his pants told me to do the same.

Oh my god, I had never really seen a man's cock before. His was not like the ones in the magazines; it was much smaller but still bigger than mine or any of the other boy's dicks I had seen. “Go ahead,” he said, “we're two friends hanging out aren't we?”

I unbuttoned my jeans, unzipped them, lifted my jockeys over my hard little dick. My eyes never left his swelling cock as he stroked it. Then his free hand reached over, his fingers curled around my dick.

"Mr. Evans" I stammered.

“It's ok; it's ok. I'm your friend aren't I?”

With my "yes" I had surrendered!!


After his taking me that first time I was very nervous, didn't know what to do, should I run home or what. I'm sure Mr Evans was just as concerned I might just do that. We sat on the couch, him with his cock still sticking up and his hand covered in my cum. "Wasn't that better than a wet dream?" he asked. My embarrassed silence said it all and the awkward moment seemed to pass.

He began to question me in more detail, about my parents; school; my friends; girl friends.

He asked if I had a girl friend and I shook my head.

He asked if I had kissed a girl and again ‘no’.

He asked if I knew how to kiss a girl.

My reply was a shrug of my shoulders. He told me he would show me how to.

He told me to play the girl and he'd be me.

He told me it was ok, lots of men like to play being a girl and it was alright if both men liked it.

He told me that you slide closer and first put your arm around her. Wait to see her reaction, does she give you a dirty look, move it away or does she snuggle a little closer to you?

He told me to snuggle closer which I did. “Now when you think the time is right lean over and kiss her. The first kiss was just a peck on my lips.” He brushed his mouth against mine.

He said, “Let’s do it again but this time open your mouth a little.” Although short it was harder and wetter and for just a moment I felt his tongue in my mouth. Breaking he asked if I knew what a French kiss was. I wasn’t sure but nodding a yes. He said, “OK, let's try it again.” By the time he broke our kiss and looked into my eyes I'm sure any of his fears were assuaged.

I lay on the couch naked as he took me for the 2nd time and wanked my once again stiff cock. My surrender was complete and total. In time he would put me in panties, then dresses, teach me how to suck a man's cock and eventually fuck me.


As uncomfortable as I was strapped in my chair I must have nodded off to sleep. For how long, I don’t know but I was shaken awake by my wife who was clearly displeased with my lack of interest in what she had been doing upstairs. She unfastened my bounds and untied the gag covering my mouth. A dog collar was clicked around my neck and she tugged on the leash, “Come on, we need you upstairs,” she said as I got to my unsteady feet.

I followed her and her winking wet cunt as I stumbled my way up the staircase toward the bedroom. The bedside lights were on and on a crumpled bed lay Tyrone his monster cock flopped on his stomach and glistening with the evidence of their climaxes. He looked up as she led me through the door.

She pulled on the leash jerking me forward toward the bed, “Go on, get to your knees; you know what to do.”

I fell to my knees and shuffling forward to half lie on the bed I was perfectly positioned over the prone Tyrone who must have felt my hot breath wash over his fat cock. He smiled approvingly and groaned as I took the slimy monster in my hand and gave him a tentative stroke.

A few moments passed as I rubbed up and down and I felt him begin to swell in my hand. In spite of my dislike of the man I could not help but shiver in admiration of what he possessed and his ability to react in such a positive manner when I was aware that for the past few hours he had been vigorously fucking my wife. I felt humbled knowing that I had no such abilities.

“Get on with it,” she hissed behind me and I felt her pull my panties down to ****** my butt, a moment later came the expected slap from the wooden paddle to my upturned buttocks.

Being the obedient slave I knew what ‘it’ was and I leaned forward and began to do what I had been bought to our bedroom to do. I opened my mouth and began to lick the cocktail of juices from the stiff penis I held in my hand. I would never openly admit to her that contrary to the expectation of what I was licking to be distasteful I was in fact enjoying the tangy flavour. I closed my eyes and I was instantly transported back to the fun that I had shared with my friends when I had tasted their ejaculations.

Another slap, this time harder, on my butt and I didn’t have to look around to know that she was standing behind me with that paddle in her hand. “You need to clean it all,” she said with an edge in her voice.

I did as she told me and continued to lick around the shaft, lap at his balls and the pooled cum on his stomach. When I was satisfied that I had cleaned as best I could I returned my attention back to the magnificent black cock I was still grasping. He began to jerk and lift himself up from the bed and it was clear that my attention was having the desired effect. I held him firmly as I continued to stroke and with my head above him I gave a sigh of satisfaction as he spurted out another climax. I tried to catch as much as I could with my open mouth but my failure was rewarded by yet more slaps followed by a sharp tug on the leash which caused me to fall to the floor. She stepped over me and clambered onto the bed to take my place.

I’m not sure who was most surprised, her or me, when Tyrone pushed her away and swung his legs over to stand up on the other side of the bed. “I gotta go ...” he growled making a theatrical gesture of looking at his watch, “...or I’ll be late.” He didn’t elaborate as to what he would be late for but gathered his scattered clothing as my wife lay on the bed looking at him in disbelief.

I crouched on the floor and kept my head down as I heard him exit the bedroom, go down the stairs and announce his departure by the slam of the front door. When I eventually got up the courage to lift my head it was to see her sat on the bed with tears streaming down her face. She looked over to me and said, “Come here Baby, Mommy needs a hug.”

One way or another her ‘liaisons’ always ended in this fashion. Indeed, it was the final pay-off for how our married life was conducted. She wanted, needed, a big cock which clearly I couldn’t provide; I loved to be humiliated knowing that she was getting what she wanted. She liked to be the dominant one; I loved to be dominated. She knew me to be a ‘Mommy’s Boy’ and that I was content to be treated as such. She indulged in my passion for women’s clothing; I loved being indulged and so the list went on. We did all the things that we knew the other would appreciate knowing that the when the day was done our love for each other would be stronger.

At least, that was my take on it although in my heart I knew she was acting the part and I suspected she really didn’t like me at all.

I got to my feet and slid onto the bed alongside her. Before I had even settled down onto my back she knelt up and straddled herself across me. I sighed with delight as her wet cunt settled on my face and was even more elated when I felt her tug the gusset of my French Knickers to one side so that my stiff little cock at last was ******* in all its streaming wetness.

I think I came within seconds of feeling her hot breath envelop me.


Afterwards we lay quietly each enjoying the afterglow of our pleasures. No words were spoken as I adopted my usual position of spooning behind her, content to lie there with my wet little limp cock nestled between the cheeks of her bum as she drifted off into a deep sleep. I was nowhere near going to sleep myself as I had been relatively rested for the evening stuck as I was for hours in the chair downstairs. I licked my lips and was pleasantly surprised to still taste the residue of Tyrone’s spunk that had smeared over my face when she had straddled me and I had licked her clean. The taste gave an instant reminder to those first times in my youth when I had sampled such a treat.

Such memories they were and to the sound of her soft snoring I let my mind go back to revisit the times and places that contributed to the way I am today.

My thoughts returned to the Baseball field, my friends and Mr. Evans. I was never the best of baseball players and was more interested in developing my friendship with Mr. Evans than I was with my friends. Pretty soon I was spending all of my free time visiting him with Mommy’s blessing but only if I had done all my homework and completed my chores. It was on a rushed visit to him that when he helped me out of my pants he saw that I was wearing girls’ panties. I remember the smile that crossed his face and his insistence that I shouldn’t be embarrassed about it for he said that he understood very well that some of ‘us’ men liked to wear women’s clothes. He said he thought it was very sweet and in a conspirital manner he confessed that sometimes he ‘indulged’ himself.

From that day forward and again at his insistence I would always visit wearing girls’ underwear under my regular clothes. I don’t think Mommy knew that I did so and certainly she could never knew that Mr. Evans had an extensive collection of ladies’ panties of his own from which he would wear some silky, lacy pair. I grew to love seeing his stiff cock outlined beneath the thin fabric and was even more pleased when he encouraged me to stroke him through the material so that it rubbed over his stiffness. What a sight we made, him sitting there with his bulging panties leaking his stickiness through the fabric and me kneeling before him with my own little dickie tenting the front of my panties as I stroked him. He often returned the compliment.

Over the month’s one thing led to another and having learned that I liked to wear more than just female undergarments and that back at home Mommy regularly dressed me up as a little girl he took it upon himself to order girly dresses by mail order for me to wear on my visits.

At first he bought little girl dresses but as I matured so did my outfits. I began high school and in a short while I thought my wardrobe rivalled most girls in my classes. Indeed, I would look at what the girls in my class wore or my teachers were wearing and imagined how I would look in it. I only had to suggest to Mr. Evans what pleased my sense of style and together we would look and choose something from the mail order catalogue and he would place an order.

My favorite one however (and Mr Evans, I think) was a blue and white polka dot summer frock. It had a square lacy collar, white patent leather belt, mid thigh hem line. With white frilly socks, white patent leather shoes and purse topped off by a Shirley Temple wig, the vision was complete; I looked a perfect picture of being a girl.

The picture I cannot get out of my head is of me standing in my polka-dot dress holding my white purse. Mr Evans knelling in front of me telling me what a good girl I am and how much he loves me while pulling down my white panties and sucking my little dick. I see myself as a picture of innocence and sweetness and Mr. Evans was so very happy.

I wore that outfit many times for Mr Evans and as I lay behind my exhausted wife I felt myself stirring at the memory. It gives me pleasure to be like that, her still deep in her slumber and me softly humping my stiff dick up and down the slickness between her cheeks and to be reminded of when Mr. Evans used to bend me over the couch and do the same. The thought of him pushing his cock into my welcoming arse would be the trigger for me to once again shoot my cum.

I don’t think she ever realised when she finally awoke that that the mess coating her backside was anything to do with me.

It was the winter of my junior year, on a Monday, when Mr Evans died. He had fucked me the day before for the last time. I would not be with another man till the summer after graduation.


We recently had our tenth wedding anniversary. We have no kids. Whether that is down to her making a conscious decision or maybe some biological reasons, I’m not sure but it does mean that she is able to hold down a well paid job whilst I stay mainly at home being a ‘house husband’. Well, not exactly, just a house husband for I do have employment but I am able to work from home given that a lot of my business is conducted through the internet so it doesn’t matter to my bosses that I rarely go to the office where space and desks are at a premium. It is an arrangement that works very well.

I love it when she is out of the house and I am left home alone with my thoughts. She goes off in the morning to have a day when she is able to joke with her colleagues and co-workers about ‘the man of the house’ she has left in the house doing the housework and shopping. Then there are the others she meets who I know she will bitch and moan to about the reality of me being the wimpy husband who is unable to satisfy her. These are usually black men she encourages and cultivates.

Whenever I was in the house I carried on the ‘tradition’ of my growing up of being naked. It was something that was quite natural to me and invariably as I wandered around doing my chores it led me to thinking about how I spent my childhood and my thoughts often took me back to my Mommy and how hard she must have worked and saved to send me to college.

In truth it wasn’t as if I went to some Redbrick or a prestigious university, our aspirations only went as far as the community college on the other side of town which was fine by me. I might have been growing into adulthood but I was still able to live my life as usual at home, literally, in the bosom of my ******.

As I grew I never forgot the wonderful times that I had enjoyed in the company of other males and it gave me a sense of worth to know that I had been directly responsible for giving them the ultimate pleasure that comes from cumming. Indeed, it became a passion to provide my ‘services’ so that I could be rewarded and enjoy the taste of semen.

College bought me into contact with many new friends both male and female and I had quite a few fumbled encounters which confirmed in my mind that I wasn’t just a gay person but, rather, I was truly bi-sexual but there was another element ... I liked being tied, restrained and I got pleasure from being abused and hurt.

The summer vacation before I began college was intense and I volunteered to do community work in between having regular holiday fun. I was kept very busy and I found myself helping out on the same estate where Mr. Evans had lived doing yard work and running chores for some of his old neighbours. One of them had known Mr. Evans as a friend and it soon became clear to me once I made my first visit that they shared a lot of the same interests. Indeed, it soon became very clear that he and Mr. Evans must have shared more than just conversation.

It was on my second visit the very same magazines that had previously fascinated me were purposely left out for me to tidy away. Top of the pile were the familiar bondage books with their explicit pictures and my new ‘master’ encouraged me to take some time to have a read before putting them away. I never did put them away for he saw my reaction both in my expression and the tenting of my shorts and it took no time at all before he led me to his bedroom and we began to play the games that I had come to love so much.

However, where Mr. Evans had been a gentle person these new encounters were quite a deal rougher in how I was treated. For sure, I was encouraged to bring along some of my girly clothes to wear and he would strip himself down so he was just wearing women’s panties but he got more excited at the idea of me being tied to a chair so that I was helpless while he took his pleasure. At first I was frightened at being so treated but after a while it became a perverse delight to be unable to do anything with my hands while my new friend knelt before me and sucked and played with my stiff little cock that was ******* beneath the hem of my frilly dress. He would also take great interest in my budding tits for it had to be recognised that contrary to my supposed gender I had developed a soft pair of ‘man boobs’ that were sensitive to the touch. How I loved to be tied with my hands behind me, my dress pulled down and to be roughly handled in whatever way he chose. It became a game to see just how long I could last before my cum would be enticed to spurt and shoot into his mouth; I never could last long.

Once he had suckled and swallowed all I could give he would then stand in front of me with his angry looking erection held in his calloused hands and I needed no instruction. I would willingly open my mouth while he literally shoved his fat cock into my lipstick smeared mouth and I would suck and lick for all my worth until he had finished his face-fucking with his ejaculation. I never could swallow it all but I did develop a love and a taste for cum in my attempts.

Once I started college I had little time to visit with him anymore and I’m sure he was disappointed that I no longer came calling to do ‘chores’ but my academic education and related diversions kept me occupied elsewhere. For a while my college course and assignments kept me ‘tied’ and focussed on straight stuff but as the months went by I increasingly felt the urges to resume my secret interests in being properly tied up. For sure, masturbation and the occasional making out with my new-found friends was keeping a lid on my simmering emotions but increasingly I was needing more than a solitary wank or the feel of a Sorority sister’s panties to keep me satisfied.

The Adult bookshop where my last ‘master’ had purchased the bondage magazines was to provide the solution and my relief. He had told me of the other services and provisions that were available there and now I was a free agent and of an age whereby I could legally visit, well, what was to stop me following my desires and checking it out.

The bookstore was about an hour and a half away from both home and college, a perfect distance that minimised being recognised by anyone who knew me. After my initial visit which allowed me to get familiar with the layout and make the proprietor aware of my interests and such I quickly adopted a process which gave satisfaction all around.

I would go into a booth, blindfold myself and loosely tie my hands behind my back with a short silky sash that I had folded over to make 2 loops. I would put my wrists through the loops and twist them but not so tight that I couldn’t work them free in a few seconds if I had to. I would then sit down and wait, heart racing, for my first visitor. It never took long before I would hear the door open, a moment of silence, then the sound of the lock slide being closed. My heart was really racing now.

Without a word being spoken I would feel fingers on my lips, parting them so they can enter and for my tongue to welcome them; it was my sign of submission. His stiff cock would quickly replace the fingers and I would need no encouragement to suck this total stranger until he filled my mouth with his cum. He would then leave, again without anything being said, and I would be left all alone until once again I would hear the door open, close, lock slide shut and another man would have me.

I sucked as many as 5 guys back-to-back like that a couple of times. Most just had me suck them, one fisted me a couple of times and a few times they wouldn’t have locked the door and another man would enter. He would watch and then before I could swallow the last gift he would take his turn with me pushing his cock into my mouth which still full of another man’s cum.

There was one guy however who didn't want me to suck his cock but urged me to suck his tits; Hard! I began to suckle him just like I had with Mommy but he slapped me on the side of my face and kept telling me, “Harder, harder, those are man tits.” I did as he told while he jerked himself and when he was ready to cum he pushed me down to my knees and shot into my mouth. I remember him so well because his cum was so hot and bitter and also as it being the first time that my own ‘man boobs’ were roughly handled and how I squirmed with delight as my nipples were twisted and pulled.

God, I loved those afternoons of pleasuring so many different cocks. My heart would race coupled with the knowledge that if I passed any of their ‘owners’ on the street tomorrow I wouldn't even know it was so hot.


I suppose this could be identified as the period of me leading a double life. On the one side I was maintaining a persona of being straight regular guy and indeed I was actively pursuing a cute girl who was in one of my classes at college; I was the typical ‘jock’ (or so I like to think!) and I completed the illusion by marrying the ‘cute girl’ soon after we both graduated.

Then there was the other half of me who loved nothing more than being the complete sissy who would submit to all kinds of indignities in the quest of giving pleasure to other men and tasting their cum. It would take a few years before both worlds collided and my straight-laced, innocent wife became aware of my true colours.

We set up home in the north of the state and I was close enough to the industry around the Great Lakes to get a regular well-paid job at a steel mill. Not manual labour but one in the admin offices doing IT work. It was a happy time for me as I met with some nice people, mainly women who seem to empathise and appreciate my girly manners. Then there was the other kind on the ‘shop floor’ with whom I had to deal from time-to-time, men, rough types, some of who became aware of my needs and interests. Over the next few years I took every opportunity to satisfy both.

Back home my wife accepted without question the excuse of my constant late arrival in the evenings as being caused by my having to put in hours of overtime. In truth I was spending the missing hours in motels which offered rooms at an hourly rate and enjoying either the willing cunt of one of my office co-workers or, more likely, I was being tied up and being pleasured by the calloused hands and fat dick of a steelworker who knew exactly what to do with me as I sat naked except for my frilly knickers in a chair before him.

It was after a couple of years of an enjoyable idyllic life that things started to go wrong for me. We were out shopping at our local mall and we bumped into one of my ‘ladies’ from work. I guess my wife must have latched onto the over-familiar way which she greeted me and things that were said as we chatted got my wife’s antennas twitching. It was the mention of ‘what a shame it was that the office where we worked didn’t allow overtime’ that did it.

She waited until we got home before she began the interrogation and under pressure I eventually had to confess that there had been the ‘odd occasion’ when I had succumbed to the charms of the lady who we had just met. I never mentioned all the other liaisons; I just let her believe that it had only been this one person.

She was furious and I feared that she would throw me out of the house and send me home to Mommy. However, she was made of sterner, more practical, stuff and so began her transformation from the meek and mild ‘wifey’ to another creature altogether. I think what motivated her was the comfortable life that my regular salary had bought her and thoughts of losing that stopped her from showing me the door.

It was over the next few days following my exposure that things really began to get weird. She began the long campaign of humiliating me, a campaign that continues today. She started by questioning why any women would want to sleep with me once they had seen what a pathetic little dick I had; “a dick,” she said as a by the way, “... that had never managed to give me any real satisfaction.” This led on to her beginning to question whether I was a ‘real man’ given that all I had was a little boy’s weenie and similar comments in that vein. At the time she wasn’t to know that such talk only served my need to be shamed. I certainly didn’t retaliate as I was secretly enjoying the scorn she was heaping upon me. I continuously apologised to her for my failings and I promised that I would make things up with her and that I wouldn’t even think about straying again. She wasn’t convinced by my show of contrition and in retaliation she suggested that she might start looking elsewhere to get the satisfaction that I had so abjectly failed to give her. It was not too long before she made good on her promise.


It was a few months later that I came home one day to find a strange car parked on our driveway. I went into the house and there she was, sitting on the couch looking somewhat dishevelled with someone who I didn’t recognise. The someone was a large black man who when I entered the room stood up and with barely a glance toward me said something to my wife to the effect of ‘that was fun we must do it again sometime; sometime soon’. With that he picked up his bunch of car keys and without another word stepped by me and left the house.

She got up from the couch and ignoring the quizzical look I was giving went through to the kitchen. “Do you want a drink?” she called over her shoulder. Clearly I was going to have to ask what the hell was going on.

I took the beer she was offering and said, “Well?”

She smirked, “Well, what?”

“You know damn well, what,” I said with as much indignation as I could muster but it was without conviction and she knew it.

“Oh that .... Him. Well I told you I would be looking elsewhere for someone to do a man’s work and he answered the call.”

“What, you’ve been advertising?”

“No silly, I don’t have to be so blatant. There’s plenty of real men at work who’ve been itching to get to know me better. Seeing as how you had no conscience about fucking someone from your work I figured I may as well do the same and that was one of them.”

One of them; have there been more than one, I’m asking myself. Before I could put my garbled thoughts into words she went on and said, “Mmm, he had such a lovely big cock. Not at all like yours and he could stay stiff and cum more than once, not like you ...” Her voice trailed off and she left the rest unsaid.

That did leave me speechless and I sat there waiting for her to provide further details. She didn’t, rather, she changed the subject entirely and somehow I was being ordered to think about what I was going to prepare for our evening meal. She had managed in an instant to assume the role of being the dominant and to demote me to being a submissive. I was strangely aroused at being subjected to such treatment and tried to hide from her gaze the evidence of my arousal which was already tenting my pants.


Thinking back about the changing relationship between my wife and me I had to admit that I was never truly a dominant man but our marriage was what I would have called equal. However, although to the outside world I appeared to be the unspoken ‘head of the house’, the truth was that I was at her beck and call and willingly did anything she asked just as long as she let me indulge in my own harmless activities while allowing her get her pleasures from those who could provide it. Early on it was soon accepted that her pleasures included seeing me being humiliated .

I have lost count of the number of times that she has bought someone home after having been out at some club or other bar for the evening. (It is usually a Black guy and always someone who has an intimidating air about him) but the events always follow the same pattern.

She will pay me scant attention other than telling me to get drinks and to confirm that I am watching the pair of them as they quickly begin to paw at each other and start pulling their clothes off. Then once she has my full attention she will either pull the guy up the stairs to disappear from my view or they will make for the couch where she wastes no time in guiding the newfound stiff cock into her shaven pussy which she has obligingly spread for him. For the next hour or so I have to endure either the sights or, if they have gone to the bedroom, the sounds of their energetic fucking as I sit, as I have so often been told to do, in my chair.

Shortly they will reappear, her naked and dripping his cum, and the pair of them will look down on this pathetic cuck and laugh; him with a hand playing over her rounded ass and smirking, gloating, telling me what a good fuck my wife was.

Later, after he had left, she would take me to the bedroom and tie me facedown to the bed so she could paddle my bare ass with the wooden bat she made me buy from the Adult bookstore. Sometimes she will tell me to give her the leather belt from trousers as I undress.

She seems to relish doing this part of her evening’s entertainment as she will beat me with glee while berating me for not being able to please her any more. She will hurt me physically and mentally telling what a real man had done with her and how useless and pathetic I am in comparison. She loves to hear me beg for her not to use the belt on me but my pleas are always to no avail.

When she believes I have taken sufficient punishment to atone for my inadequacies I will be untied and then comes the part I so look forward to. She will lie back on the bed and spread her legs and command me to clean out the cum that will still be oozing out of her gaping cunt. She believes that this must be the ultimate humiliation for me but the truth is that I love to be reminded of the taste of my past pleasures and I apply myself with relish as I lap and lick my way around and push my tongue into her ravished pussy.

She allows me to give her at least two orgasms in this fashion and in the process my own stiff little dick will be rubbing against the bedcovers as I move up and down. It never takes me very long before I am spurting out my own orgasm into a sticky mess on the covers.

When she has had enough of me she will turn onto her side and with the pair of us both naked I will take up my position and spoon behind her as we both fall into an exhausted sleep.


Being the cuck has changed me beyond recognition to the person I once was but it's my wife who has been really transformed. To my knowledge she had always been faithful up until the time she discovered that I had been ‘playing away’ but it didn’t take much for her to change her attitude and outlook and for her to enjoy her first time with a cock other than mine. In fact she must have quickly realised that she had been short-changed when she married me for the cock she had when she first committed her adultery although not one that would have qualified for any records was by every measure superior to mine ... and she took no time at all afterwards in telling me about it and taking enjoyment at witnessing my obvious humiliation.

From that moment on our marriage was no longer one of equals but rather we began down the slippery slope of her exploring just how much humiliation she could heap upon me. I didn’t help my situation by sending out signals that I was actually enjoyed such treatment of me and many a time when she was treating me so badly I would be agreeing with her that I deserved to be punished for having been unfaithful and should not complain about her finding new-found freedoms.

It took no time at all before I became the willing submissive to her latent ‘Domme-ness’ and would submit to whatever treatment she considered to be most humiliating toward me. In the early days of our ‘new relationship’ it appealed to her greatly to find an alpha Bull who would dominate her and make her a submissive to his treatment knowing that I was having to witness her giving herself totally to him and could/would do nothing about it. While she was submissive with her Dom she would become much more domme with me.

Her (mis)treatment of me even extends to making sly little comments when we are with any of our friends. Not enough to let them know my true position and situation but enough to show and remind me of mine. That really does hurt.

And talking of friends, I know her present Dom likes fucking her very much and wants it to continue and even though he is very much in charge he wants to keep her pleased, the suggestion was made of sharing her with his friends. I’m not sure if it was her idea, maybe she wanted to be gangbanged by them all, but I think if it was her idea then it came from her knowing that I would be even more humiliated if they did. To be made to watch her take cock after cock and then have to clean up the messy cum afterwards is her idea of heaven. I never admitted to her just how much the idea appealed to me also.


My wife's regular Dom was over this past weekend. He has been on the scene for quite a while and what was at first an occasional visit has now turned into an almost weekly event.

I really don’t like him and hate it even more when he brings some of his friends along. Those are the worst times. Some of her other doms have allow me to participate but this one doesn’t other than the one time when he told me to watch my wife clean his cock afterwards. If his friends do come along they might stay with me in the living room while the Dom is upstairs having his first fuck. She’s told them of my sissy boi urges and it amuses her to know that while she is taking a fat black cock inside her pussy that downstairs her husband is being abused in the most debased fashion and being made to engage with Black cocks of his own. So far she has never been present to witness me taking a cock up my ass but she must surely hear my cries as I am being violated. When they have taken their pleasures with me and I have cleaned their cocks to their satisfaction I am usually left alone as they go up to the bedroom to join the Dom who I understand is grateful for an opportunity to get his breath.

Her present Dom is straight and hasn’t made any advances toward me other than on a few occasions to slap my face with his cock telling me my pretty wife is going to suck it, have her lips all over it before he fucks her or afterwards smearing it over my face telling me what a good fuck she was and what a whore she is.


There have been periods when she has totally rejected me and sent me away from the ****** home. I would then go back to my ‘real home’ and stay a while with Mommy who, bless her, never asked too many questions although I think she suspected some of what was going on but I certainly was never going to tell any of it. To her I was always the perfect son and she was pleased once more to have ‘the man of the house’ back under her roof. Whether she would have been quite so relaxed about me if she could have envisioned the sight of me sitting bound and gagged as my wife was being fucked by a Black cock is quite another matter.

Once I was back with Mommy there would be the downside of me hurting inside knowing that I had, once again, failed my wife in some way for her to have thrown me out. However, there was an upside for then I had free rein to indulge myself in my Sissy Boi persona and to pursue a few relationships of my own without any fear of my wife being privy to my perversions. (Mommy was totally ambivalent about such things!)

I took the opportunity one time to make a post on a Yahoo group telling that I was looking for a black dom. It took no time at all before Charles from Ann Arbor responded and he told me he was a strict but fair dom and was looking for someone just like me. I agreed to visit him in his condo.

He sent me strict but explicit instructions. I was to enter his apartment; strip naked; go to my knees and suck his cock. I drove there, rang his buzzer, identified myself and as was told to take the elevator up. He was waiting down the hall at his open door when I got out of the elevator and motioned me into his apartment.

My first impression was one of disappointment. Although he wasn’t an ugly man he certainly didn’t look like the dom I was hoping to find. He was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts and definitely overweight; not very attractive at all. He watched me as I stripped and dropped to my knees and then I had a greater disappointment as he pulled his shorts down to ****** his cock. It wasn't much (if any) bigger than mine.

Naked and on my knees, I sucked his black cock. He was not that big but he seemed to last and last forever before he finally came in my mouth. After a short time of me cleaning it he backed away and waved at me with a dismissive hand. I rose to my feet, got dressed and left without a word being spoken.

He had me 2 or 3 more times the same way before I asked him (on line) if I could wear a nightie and panties. He agreed and I did so the next time. I took a chance the time after and bought a wig. I felt like such a sissy when I would enter, go straight to the bathroom and emerge the Lil’ sissy white bitch for him.

I'm not sure when but conversation finally did happen along with foreplay on his bed that led to him fucking me. Although he played the dom I knew he was not really into that role. He liked his titties played with and had me do so. He would return the pleasure by playing with my tits. I’ve always loved them played with though usually most men are too rough with them. Not so my new friend.

After he fucked me we'd normally finish with him taking me orally. He had me just about every week for quite a time and I was becoming very close to him even though he was not really a dom. I really liked our time together, laying on the bed, the foreplay and him fucking me. Then came the day he shared me.

I went there one day and a friend of Charles's was there who was introduced as Jack (from Chicago) and I knew what was going to happen. I got undressed and they had me suck them both in the living room before taking me to the bedroom. They both fucked me twice that first time.

It was on the third visit that Charles was not feeling too well so I sucked Jack as he just watched. He really was feeling most unwell so Jack and me thought it would be best if we leave him be as he certainly was in no condition to be fucking me, so we both left. When we got my car Jack spoke to me and said he was glad for a chance to have me alone without Charles. He made me suck his cock right there in the parking lot before he ordered me to drive him home.

We started to meet at a motel in Lansing. He was a lot more forceful and more imaginative than Charles and he told me he wanted to take me to some club for black guys and their white sissies some night. I told him all I had was my nightie and wig and I wouldn't look very good. He told me not to worry I’d have my ‘admirers’ and it was true. We’d go to the club and I felt very flattered by the attention I got from so many black men who would compliment me on my oral skills but I knew I couldn't compare to any real T-gurls who were there and, if anything, I felt more humiliated at my deficiencies more than anything else.

I was such a busy Boi and having a wonderful time. Charles was fucking me and Jack was fucking me and both Charles and Jack were fucking me and then there were those nights at the club. I managed to fit in visits to the local adult bookstores to follow my passion and became a regular cocksucker, I do love sucking a man's cock. Although I didn’t keep a tally I've must have sucked at least 200 different men if not more.

One time Jack and me were laying on the bed and I was sucking his black cock. Charles began to fuck me; he had a small cock but could go on and on. Jack came in my mouth and I kept licking and sucking on him as Charles was fucking me. Jack came again in my mouth before Charles finally came. I think it was the only time I sucked a man non-stop till he came twice in my mouth.

It has to be said that faithfulness not a strong trait with sissies I’m afraid and I was both flattered and pleased when Charles decided to share me with another guy. I don't remember his name but he was a white friend of his and my first impression was that he looked like some famous Newsreader from Fox News. Indeed, I convinced myself it was him and I delighted in the thought that for a change it was someone of sophistication and intelligence that was my lover; a complete contrast to the usual ‘client’.

It was after the ‘Newsreader’ had fucked me 3 or 4 times when Charles started telling me that the newsreader had told him how ‘shocked’ he was at my appearance, of how I looked. That surprised me because it wasn't what the newsreader was telling me as he fucked me or whenever we were on-line chatting. Certainly he had no compulsions about continuing to fuck me when I was wearing my little sissy girl outfits!

Charles told me other things he had supposedly shared with the newsreader and it became clear that someone was lying to me and it lead me to not trust Charles and so our relationship soured. We drifted apart and as a consequence I also lost contact with Jack and the newsreader. That always seems to happen but I did so enjoy my time with Charles and the others.

The funny thing is that in one respect I haven’t lost touch for whenever Fox News is playing and my newsreader is presenting I can sit back and masturbate my little dick remembering how that mouth of his used to suck me and let me cum.


It was around about that time that my wife called and said that she had forgiven me (again!) and that she wanted me back home. It wasn’t so much a request, it was more of being an order and she knew that I would come scurrying back to her whenever she snapped her fingers.

Our live resumed as before with me being at her beck and call and being humiliated as a consequence. I think that part of her ‘needing’ me back home was that she was never the domestic type and that she missed me doing the housework and associated chores. I was (and still am) a decent cook and as such made for being the perfect housewife. However, I was under no illusions that her ‘forgiveness’ was conditional and that I would be required to perform certain duties whilst cleaning up around her. The more humiliating the tasks, the happier she would be.

It was a few months after I had been allowed to return to the happy married home that we took our annual vacation. We have a time-share on the coast, an apartment that overlooks the beach. I always look forward to going there for it provides a complete change of scenery albeit that there is no change in me having to do all the running around after her.

It was on the drive there that my wife kept telling me she had a surprise for me. I didn’t allow myself to get too excited; I just assumed she had made some ‘arrangements’ for her holiday entertainment. We had only been there for as much time as it took me to get the bags from the trunk and taken into the house when the doorbell rang. When I opened the door that night my heart gave a leap. There stood Craig; Craig the dom who had given my wife such a great fucking last year and had allowed me to watch. Not only watch but to clean her pussy after her fucking and even let me clean off his wonderful cock. Oh god the fatigue from the long days drive just melted away and I felt energized with anticipation.

Our vacation began from the moment he stepped through the door. Craig brushed past me only acknowledging my presence with a curt ‘cuck’ by way of greeting. My wife gave a squeal of delight and went straight into his outstretched arms and almost melted into a passionate kiss. I felt completely foolish standing there still with a suitcase in hand and being left to close the door and having to watch him with his hand pressing her ass to him.

He looked up to see me just standing and looking and he barked at me, “Strip ...” and turning to my wife, “...you too.”

A grin covered his face as I lowered my pants and he saw my panties. The grin turned to a chuckle and he said to no one in particular, "He really is a sissy isn't he?"

We both pulled off our clothes as quickly as possible and the grin and laughter disappeared as he ordered us to get onto our knees and to place our hands behind our heads. He said to my wife, “I gonna inspect what I have here for the night; my ‘whore’ and her ‘sissy cuck’”

He then told her to play with her tits. The combination of seeing her cup her little titties, fondle them for him, her fingers play over her swollen nipples and to see his grinning face made my little dick twitch. He noticed the effect it was having on me so he told her, “kiss the cuck.” She leaned over and did as she was told but her kiss lacked any passion but her being so intimate aroused my dick even more.

"Now play with your married pussy." She did as she was told and he began to tell me what a nice pussy she had; how much he liked fucking it; telling me, "You'd like to fuck it wouldn't you?"

Watching as she fingered herself, I gave him the answer I knew he was expecting, "Yes sir".

He reminded me that, “there's been a lot of strange cock in that married cunt, hasn't there?”

“Yes sir".

"... But not yours! You don't get that pussy any more do you cuck?”

I gave an embarrassed, "no" and had the growing thought that she and he must have had a long conversation about me.

His smirking reply, "You can't please her, sissy, so she needs a real man, a real man's cock."

My wife continued to finger fuck herself and with her breathing becoming labored she began to rock on her knees as she worked herself up. Craig watched with a smile as her titties were rising and falling and he couldn’t fail to see that my little dick was growing even harder.

She groaned out, “Please sir, can the ‘cuck’ have a taste?”

Craig nodded and said, “Yeah, let him taste your fingers ...” and turning to me said, “.. and you wank your little dick”.

She held out her hand and I leaned forward and sucked and slurped the juices on her outstretched fingers and at the same time I began to stroke my little stiff dick. He seemed to be very pleased with the sight of us both masturbating for him.

My pleasure was interrupted when she murmured, "Please sir, take me to the bedroom and fuck me, please".

He looked directly at me and said, “You hear that sissy, I’m going to take her to the bedroom and fuck her, fuck that sweet married pussy.”

Watching her finger-fuck herself and hearing her moans bought my dick to the breaking point and try as I might I couldn’t stop myself; my little dick spasmed and my cum spurted through my fingers to spill onto the carpet.

Craig laughed and my wife joined in the joke and said, “see what I mean, he’s useless".

I held my head down to hide my shame but it didn’t prevent me from hearing him continuing to mock me. He told me to stay there, to put my hands behind my head and not to move. I lifted my head to see him leading my laughing wife toward the bedroom. Shamed, being laughed at and knowing that my wife had had a hand in setting up my humiliation; all I could do was to remain there kneeling and listen.

Unlike our home where the bedroom is at the other end of the house, here it was just feet away and through the open door I could see and hear everything as my wife performed oral on him. "That's it, bitch, suck it .... Oh yeah bitch.... damn whore you are so good”.

Then came her moans, growing louder and louder as he fucked her till it was, "yes, yes, yes, Oh my god, Yesssssss" and I knew she climaxed.

Later again her yelps and gasps, and moans followed by, "yes, yes, yes" and her climaxing again along with his groans and grunts till they became, "yeah, yeah, oh yeah, yeah ohhhh you bitch."

Knowing he was pumping her full of his cum and her pussy was milking his cock my shame heightened knowing he had brought my wife to multiple orgasms and while all I could do was to remember just how quickly I had come with just the slightest encouragement.

He told me to shuffle on my knees and to join them in the bedroom. Naked my wife came over and stood in front of me her face and breasts flushed, her nipples hard. Craig moved behind me and as she stepped forward over me with her legs spread, Craig pushed my face to her and mashed my face into her gaping cunt so that my face was smeared with her juices and his cum.

"Clean the whore cuck", he said pushing my face hard to her squirming pussy and holding it there. My tongue flicked and licked, cleaning my wife's fucked pussy. I could hear them snicker and laugh as I did.

He pulled my head back and twisted me, "Now a man's cock, cuck", and without a chance to draw breath my mouth was full of his slimy cock. It wasn’t slow and easy like it had been when he visited last year. This time he held my head firmly and filled my mouth as he pumped hard. "Wifey tells me you’re a cocksucker".

She agreed with him, "oh yes I bet he's sucked a lot of cock!" and made it sound more like an accusation than just a remark. My tears began flowing as he called me vile names while continuing to ram my mouth. Then without saying another word they left me alone crying, gasping for breath, my face smeared with their juices and my saliva as they went to the kitchen.

I felt so ashamed, my wife revelling in my humiliation and Craig, no longer the strong but kind dom of last year, but one who was now doing is best to humiliate me.

We stayed there for a week and I enjoyed every moment.


To the outside world we have always tried to maintain an appearance of being ‘normal’ and to keep our special interests hidden from view and only to be privy to those who are invited in, so to speak.

It was only yesterday that I was out back doing some yard work when I heard the doorbell chime. I went toward the kitchen door so that I could answer but before I could even get rid of my grubby shoes my wife had already opened the front door. I looked through and saw a large black man wearing the uniform of our local parcel delivery service. He was holding a package and a clip board but when my wife tried held out her hand to take it I heard him say that it required a signature. He looked at the address label and said my name. “Oh, you want the man of the house then,” she giggled, “I’ll get him.”

She turned to call but saw me standing there in the kitchen doorway so gestured to me to come. I padded through in my stockinged feet, took the offered pen and signed. After taking the package I saw the unmistakeable signs that I knew so well passing between my wife and our doorstep visitor. She made no attempt to hide her interest in what she assumed was to be her next conquest and although I couldn’t hear every word it was enough to convince me that we would be seeing this black fellow very soon.

He left with a smile on his face when she reiterated that although I was the man of the house that I would have no objections if he cared to call back once he had finished his shift.

... and so it goes on.