The jaguar and the cougar

So I’m home, and like I always do when I travel, I got sick, so I’ve felt like death ever since the airport. So this post is actually a little delayed, but I couldn’t not tell this story.

Our vacation was the best ever. I mean, it’s weird, I wasn’t planning on sleeping with half the hotel. Because it’s not exactly an intelligent decision to sleep with half the hotel right at this particular moment.

Of course, Kazander and I are vaccinated, because we’re not Fox-worshiping sheep, but even so, I still have leukemia and people are idiots. I wasn’t planning on doing anything with anybody.

So we met this girl. And just like the sisters, I swear she walked right out of a porno.

She was 20 years old. Columbian. A librarian (complete with the cute big hipster glasses). Smart as all fucking hell. She speaks Spanish and Portuguese, as well as English, and she knows about philosophy and history and politics.

She’s a vegetarian because it’s more environmentally sustainable, but she admits that she loves steak and chicken nuggets every once in a great while, and she only just recently tried bacon for the first time, and oh my god, you guys, the way her eyes lit up as she gushed about how amazing bacon is, it was like watching a little kid at Christmas.

And yeah, her hotness puts even the sisters to shame, but it was her mind that caught my attention. It started because Kazander and I admitted that we don’t know basically anything about Columbia, except for drugs and Pablo Escobar.

And she sat there and gave us an entire history lesson about him. And it was amazing, you guys.

I mean, first, I love shit like that. I love seeing those other perspectives. And as smart as she is, her perspective was brilliant. She explained how he rose to power, why he became so popular, and how Columbia teaches kids about him. It was so much more in depth than anything I ever learned here.

I mean, of course he was still a bad guy, everyone knows that. But there was so much more to that story than I ever knew.

She carried her laptop with her, everywhere she went, and multiple times during our conversation, she’d open it up and look up a word she didn’t quite know the right translation for, or a fact she couldn’t quite remember.

And I don’t think I’ll ever get used to just how friendly and kind people in Latin countries are. I see it in Mexico all the time, and it always takes me by surprise, but she put even Mexicans to shame.

Just bubbly and outgoing and the sweetest, nicest girl you could ever meet. And easily one of the smartest people you could ever meet.

Needless to say, we all hit it off.

And then we really hit it off.

At one point, she ended up with her tongue down my throat. Then down Kazander’s throat. Then she wanted a three-way kiss.

Then she wanted a three-way.

And I mean, I was not about to deny this sweet Columbian naughty librarian what she wanted. I’m not a monster.

We brought her back to our room, and the entire way there, she was just a damn wildcat. Pawing at me, kissing and biting, climbing all over me. Once we got to the room, Kazander wanted to hop in the shower and rinse off (it’s humid. Lots of sweating), so I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom like I was carrying her across the damn threshold.

I tossed her on the bed, but she immediately jumped back up with a dark grin and just attacked me. Crazy aggressive, biting and scratching and tearing my clothes off.

And it just woke up that primal predator in me. I found myself almost growling, throwing her around, biting and clawing at her just as hard as she was biting and clawing at me.

I’m a few inches taller than her, and much broader and stronger, but she was agile as fuck, and every time I threw her down, she immediately jumped right back up and pounced on me again.

By the time Kazander came out of the shower, the bed was completely destroyed, pillows were thrown across the room, I think her bra was hanging from the bedroom door, I mean, it was intense.

And yeah, pretty much all he could do at that point was lie back and let us have our way with him. The poor guy didn’t stand a chance.

By the time it was over, I was bruised, scratched, bleeding out of like eight different places, my sheets looked like a damn war had broken out on my bed.

And jesus christ, y’all, I think I met my match. I was exhausted.

I’m not 20 anymore, mkay. I’m not a young adult anymore, I definitely lean closer to “cougar” now. I don’t have the energy I did 15 years ago.

And my personal brand of intensity is slower, more mental, and usually involves a lot of carefully-planned build-up, gradually growing more and more intense until the sub feels like they’re going to absolutely break, before I finally let loose on them.

While she was just fucking explosive. No hesitation, no build-up, just a goddamn wild animal.

Honestly, she was like a jaguar. Small and lithe, aggressive, absolutely predatory, laughing and growling and trying her damndest to take a chunk out of me.

Finally, things died down, and I had Kazander walk her back to her room while I hopped in the shower and counted my battle scars.

He came back and shook his head, nursing his lip from where she’d kissed him goodnight and tried to take a chunk out of him, too.

“My fucking god, she’s crazy,” he said.

I laughed. “Yeah, she definitely is.”

And we all ended up making out again the next day, though (thankfully) we had to get up early the next morning for our Covid test, so we couldn’t stay out late. Because damn, she was ready for round 2, but I needed a day to recover after that.

Ah, to be 20 again.

Kazander made the comment that he was glad she was the last one we played with, because there was no way the sisters or the couple could have ever lived up to that.

I mean, how do you follow up something like that? How do you top that?

We got her contact info, and we’ve been chatting with her since we got home. When she turns 21, she wants to come to Vegas and hang with us for awhile, and yeah, that’ll be a hell of a lot of fun.

But holy hell, I think I’ll need to wear armor.

Becoming Bar Mom

Fair warning, y’all, I’m drunk. And I ramble uncontrollably when I’m sober, you think I get less talkative when I’m inebriated?

Hehehehehe……

So I’m in Mexico. This is our first vacation since the pandemic, so of course, there are hoops to jump through, and the resort is at half capacity (and half staff), and we have to wear our masks, and social distance, blah blah blah.

But honestly, it’s not as bad as I was expecting. It’s mostly just common sense. Don’t be an idiot, just wear the damn mask (because my only child can’t get vaccinated yet, and I haven’t punched anyone in the face in like six months, so I’m overdue, bitch test me, I fucking dare you).

Anyway.

So it’s actually been really great. Sure there are some annoyances and inconveniences, but the staff seems to be working even harder to make up for it, and our butler and my favorite bartender remember us, and even bent a couple of rules for us, and honestly, even with the extra hoops and the tests and the inconveniences and the annoyances, this might my favorite vacation I’ve ever been on.

Hell, I walked up to the bar in the lobby, and one of the bartenders came up and greeted me. We weren’t here last year, but he remembered me from two years ago (though he got my name just barely wrong. He called me Gemma. But hey, after two years, that’s not bad. I’m impressed).

The extra fun started the other night. I got to talking to these two women at the bar, and we struck up a conversation.

And for most of my adult life, I was always the youngest in every group. Now I’m 35, so that’s changed.

At first, I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. In the past couple of years, I’ve lost a lot of things that were kind of central to how I define myself. First I lost my voice, then I lost my “plus size” status (which doesn’t seem like a thing, but realizing I was too small for Torrid was kind of an unexpected hit), then I lost my “young adult” status, and those were all things I loved about myself.

I had an entire plan for singing. I was damn proud of being plus size. I’d always been the youngest in pretty much every group. I loved my youth.

There have been a couple of other things too, that are a little harder to explain. But now it’s all gone. It’s been a lot to get used to. It’s been…

Well, not bad, actually. I have moments where I feel a little lost, but on the whole, it’s actually kind of exciting. Because now I have to go out and find new things, new ways to define myself.

And one of those new things is “bar mom.” I’m not the youngest anymore, but a couple of times now, both here in Cancun and back home in Vegas, I’ve found myself surrounded by women practically half my age, and holy shit, I kind of adore it.

These girls haven’t done anything. They haven’t seen anything. They’re barely adults (especially true here, where the drinking age is 18).

And they see me, this effortlessly confident woman, hot as fuck, sauntering up to the bar, and all of a sudden I have them hanging on my every word.

Which, I mean, I don’t know if you guys know this about me, but I have a teensy bit of an ego. So having a group of 21-year-olds sitting around like, “Teach us, o wise seer. Impart to us thy wisdom,” is kinda nice.

So the other night, I’m hanging out at the bar, chatting with the bartenders, and got to talking to these sisters.

And they’re both insanely hot. Like, just stupid-hot.

I mean like…

We’ll call them Hannah and Montana (not their real names, but their real names rhyme just like that). One is 18, the other is 20, sitting together getting plastered on a beach in Mexico, it was like they walked right out of a porno, I swear to gawd.

And as the night went on, we just totally hit it off, and suddenly we just totally hit it off.

I brought them back to my room. Kazander was off with his family, so I asked if he’d be cool fucking off for half an hour, and I’d find him when we were done. He was insanely jealous (justifiably so), but he agreed, so I brought them back to our room and that’s when we really hit it off.

It wasn’t like how it is in porn, though. Sure, it was a little kinky, just because they’re sisters, but they didn’t really do anything with each other. They were both completely focused on me.

Which, I mean, I kinda like being the center of attention, so that was nice.

I fucked them both raw, then I walked them back to their room (because I’m a lady, dammit), then I came back and passed the fuck out, because I was just a little sloshed, myself.

I was pretty proud of myself. But then, a couple nights later, I saw them again, and they literally screamed my name, and jumped up from the table to hug me, and the blonde asked for round 2.

So I mean, I was pretty goddamn proud of myself. Here I am, 35 years old, curvy, with stretch marks and big thighs, and I pulled off something every sculpted-Adonis dudebro wishes he could pull off.

Those guys fantasize about it, but I actually did it. Without even trying.

And I did it so well, they came back wanting more.

And just how hot are we talking? Well, I’m not showing their faces, but the night they screamed my name across the resort’s central plaza, I did manage to get a picture with them.

Again, no faces, so y’all are just gonna have to take my word for it, but even without seeing their faces, can you imagine walking through a beach resort with one of those on each arm?

‘Cuz I don’t have to imagine it.

And it’s funny, I’d kinda forgotten just how hot 20-year-old bodies are. Don’t get me wrong, I love my body, I’m okay with my flaws, I know how to turn heads and carry a room, etc. But I also know that I have the kind of body you only get from 30+ years of tacos, alcohol, and mild neglect, plus having a kid.

But these girls don’t have those problems. No stretch marks, no cellulite, everything stays in place when the clothes come off, just smooth and tight and fucking hot.

And hanging on my every word, following me like puppies.

I was just impossible to be around. I felt so bad for poor Kazander having to deal with my ego, so I promised that the next time I find sexy fun, he’s included.

Which… just so happened to fall into my lap later that very night. He’d already gone back to the room, and I was on my way back, I’d just stopped at the pool to finish my drink, when another woman walked up to me.

I honestly don’t remember how, but we ended up in her room, and I had Kazander meet us there. Turns out, they wanted to be poly, but they live in a small-ish town in a red state, so that makes things difficult. They haven’t been able to actually do anything yet.

And they were hot, too. The woman was especially hot. She was in her forties, fit and toned, with a gorgeous rack.

The husband was hot, too. He was in his fifties, muscular and fucking tall. He had to be every bit of 6’5″. I’m not used to having to look up to talk to people.

But he was such a gentleman. A teensy bit heavy on the benevolent sexism (he kept insisting that I text Kazander so he’d know where I was, and kept wanting to make sure I felt safe in the room with them), but I can appreciate the thought behind it. I’m aware bad shit can happen in Mexico.

I mean, bad shit can happen at a music concert in my hometown, too, but again, whatever, he was doing it to be nice, and while I don’t love being infantilized and seen as a helpless delicate flower, I also recognize the dude is from a different time in a conservative state, where they still think women can’t survive in a world of dangerous scary men without a dangerous scary nice man to protect them.

Ugh. That shit annoys me. You want to make me feel safe? Stop creeping me the hell out with that shit. Knock it off and go make me a sandwich.

That goes for all of you reading this, too. If you ever do that, knock it off. Being seen as if you’re a child isn’t cute. It doesn’t make us want to fuck you. It’s creepy. It’s uncomfortable.

I’m not a child. I’m old enough to drink, old enough to vote, old enough fuck your mom so hard and so good, she’ll leave her husband and call me Daddy.

Quick, someone ask me how I know. Maybe I’ll tell that story one day.

Not the point of this post, though. I appreciate that the guy was trying to be considerate, and he is a big guy, so I’m sure he’s dealt with being perceived as a threat everywhere he goes.

I’m gonna bitch about it here, because I can, but in the moment, I was good with just shrugging it off and letting it go.

But it was so cute, the wife told me he was nervous and self-conscious, because he’s a little older, and you know sometimes the plumbing doesn’t work as well in a man his age, and he’s also not quite at the level of hotness she is.

So of course, I immediately thought he was so sweet and adorable, and decided I wanted him to feel like he can still rock a girl’s world.

Kazander stayed with her in their room, and I led him to ours.

And of course, he was intimidated and flustered and nervous, so the performance anxiety kicked in.

Which, first of all, was great. This guy was huge, okay. Broad, strong, tall as fuck. But once I got him alone, he was like a blushing virgin.

I adored it. I wanted to give the sweet tall boy a good time. And I’ve always liked older men, so I know how to work around performance issues.

But I was reminded once again just how different vanilla men and sub men are.

And that’s something I told Kazander later. It’s always weird with vanilla guys. I don’t really know how to relate to them all that well. If the husband was a nervous sub, I would’ve known exactly how to fix that.

But a vanilla guy? Like, literally, what do I do? They’re like a different species or something. How do I handle a nervous vanilla guy?

I mean, I figured it out, because it’s me, of course I did. But I thought that was kind of funny, just trying to figure out how to give this boy a good time, and make him feel like “the man,” and give him a bit of a confidence boost, while also working around his performance anxiety and his nervousness.

He really was so cute, though. And eventually, he did relax and loosen up a bit. Once he did, we were golden.

The poor sweet thing, I think I broke him. But I managed to get him back to his room and traded him back for Kazander.

Unfortunately, they were leaving the next day, but they come to Vegas a lot, so I got the wife’s number. If it works out, they could turn out to be a couple of fun play partners when they’re in town.

But yeah, if I wanted to nitpick, I could find things to complain about. And the Karens and Chads are out in full force this time.

I mean, there are kids literally right down the street from the resort that go to bed hungry each night, but god forbid Chad has to wait 5 minutes for his refill.

We had semi trailers, in our own country, filled with dead bodies, but god forbid Karen can’t have an extra lounge chair at the pool.

And the poor overworked staff is doing everything they can. There’s a pandemic here, too. Some of these people have lost family members, too. And they come here and smile and bend over backwards so we can have a good vacation.

So every time I see someone chewing out an employee, I get super loud and snide and just dickish about it. Like, “Oh, no! A 5-minute wait is just going to ruin his whole vacation!” Or, “Hey, we found the woman who has never been told ‘no’ in her entire life.”

Or, “hey, cut her a break. The worst thing that ever happened to her was that time she got bangs. Poor thing can’t handle waiting for a chair.”

Yeah, I’m not making friends with the other guests. But I am making friends with the employees, and they’re the important ones. And now every time we walk into the lobby, or up to the pool bar, or the spa, or the privilege lounge, we have employees smiling and calling our names.

So the assholes can sit in their rooms and pout because they’re too fragile to handle literally anything, and oh their entire lives are just ruined.

I’m gonna hang out with the bartender who shouts “Mi Jenni, mi amor!” across the lobby every time I walk in. And I’m gonna have fun with the sexy waiters and cabana boys, and get completely plastered, and play in the pool, and just have a goddamn blast.

And we’re still here for another whole week. Yeah, I’m a happy Jen.

Magic Wand

So some of you may know I’m kind of a fan of vibrating wands. I have mine, it’s my favorite and I adore it.

But it’s dying, as it does every few years. I was planning on replacing it with the same brand I always get.

Then I got an email with an offer to write a review for Adam and Eve, in exchange for a free toy and a commission for any orders made through this post.

I had mixed feelings.

So first, y’all need to understand the history of sex toys, and the sex toy industry, and Adam and Eve in particular, because you can’t

You know, it’s funny, I asked the marketing woman if there were word limits, and she said there’s no maximum.

We’re gonna go ahead and pretend there’s a maximum, and I’m not going to go into a 6,000-word history/archeology/sociology essay about the last 30,000 years of sex toys (the strap-on predates the wheel, fyi. By a lot).

All you really need to know is that, historically, vibrators were not seen as they are now. In fact, there was a time when they were marketed only to men, as a cure for impotence and ED, and they all had disclaimers that they weren’t designed for women.

Because men’s sexuality was socially acceptable, but women’s sexuality was seen as subversive and perverse. It’s a cultural attitude that we’re still trying to untangle ourselves from, and that kind of fundamental social change happens over a period of decades. It permeates every area of personal interaction. Every aspect of how women see themselves, as well as how men see women.

There are a handful of industry titans that have done some pretty heavy lifting in regards to helping expedite that process. Everyone knows about Hitachi and Vibratex (the company that made the Rabbit).

But you can’t talk about industry-defining titans without mentioning Adam and Eve. They’re the Amazon of sex toys, and they’ve done more to normalize women’s sexuality than pretty much any other organization out there.

Not only have they normalized sex toys and sexual expression, but they do quite a bit of social work and a portion of their proceeds goes to charity, for sex education and sexual health in developing countries.

An opportunity to associate with a company like that? Hell yeah, I’m down.

But…

Adam and Eve is a very mainstream organization, and as such, tends to be far more mellow than I’m used to. I mean, they’ve got some decent basic BDSM gear, but nothing that immediately jumps out at me.

I respect the corporation for the impact it’s had, and continues to have, on how society as a whole sees sex. I just never really saw myself associating with it personally.

But that aside, I wasn’t going to not jump at the opportunity to be part of that. I mean, I’m generally wary of giant corporations, but as far as giant corporations go, this is one I’m stoked to associate with.

I signed the paperwork and they sent me the Adam and Eve Brand Magic Massager Deluxe Wand.

It got in, and at first I was disappointed to find out that it has the set speeds and modes, rather than the smooth adjustment I’m used to. But to be fair, that seems to be far more popular in my experience. Most vibrating toys have the set speeds, and don’t let you just choose the intensity you want.

Which, I mean, that’s fine. The whole “One Size Fits Most” mentality is profitable in most situations. I’m not a fan, but I get it, you know?

I’m just saying I’m a little bit of a napoleonic control-monger. I like what I like, how I like it, and a setting that’s just a little too fast or a little too slow can often end up just annoying me.

And the intermittent settings do nothing but frustrate me. I have no use for them.

Yes, I’m neurotic and overly picky. We’re all aware.

But let me tell you, when it comes to tormenting subs, this wand has given me a brand new appreciation for those intermittent settings.

First, the thing is surprisingly strong. Loud as all hell, but damn strong.

It was delivered in the afternoon, and we couldn’t do anything fun until the kid went to bed, but I wanted to plug it in right away and make sure it worked.

As soon as I turned it on, I looked up at Kazander, and I could see the “oh, shit,” in his expression.

I grinned. “It’s strong.”

“I can see that.”

I had a shiny new toy. I wanted to see what sounds he makes when I poke him with it. So after the spawn went to bed, we finally got to try it out.

“How many edges are you up to?” I asked.

“Fifty-four.”

I stopped. “That’s it?

Usually, I like giving him at least 100 edges in between orgasms. And that sounds like a lot, but he’s used to it, so he can usually knock out fifty in two evenings watching porn, without breaking a sweat (it doesn’t hurt that orgasm denial is one of his top three favorite kinks, so that’s helped him get used to so many edges, so quickly).

Letting him cum after so few edges is normally something I’d save for a reward. So originally, I was just planning on using the wand to tease him. Give him another few edges, and send him to bed horny and denied.

It was a great plan. But it can’t hold a candle to what happened completely by accident.

The wand has 3 steady settings, with low, medium, and high intensity. Then it goes into all the intermittent settings, with varying speeds and intensities.

One in particular is just impressively mean. I fell in love with it right away. It almost seems random at first, with different intensities and pauses.

I pressed it against the head of his cock, and immediately he tensed up and started squirming, and made the cutest noises.

But then, all of a sudden, the intensity of his reactions skyrocketed. At first, I pulled the wand away, worrying that he was about to cum.

“Were you close?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Um, what?”

He took a second to fight through the horny fog in his brain. “It felt like I was close, but I don’t think I was going to cum.”

I arched a brow. “Really?”

“Yeah… I think.

Well, this could be interesting.

I put the wand to his cock again and turned it back on. Within a few seconds, he was back at that edge again. And now I was curious. I left the wand there even after he said he was too close.

Sure enough, he didn’t cum. The fact that it seemed so random, and kept stopping and starting, made it just intense enough to keep him riding that edge, but it wasn’t enough to push him over.

Which, you guys, let me tell you, was awesome.

It was torture for him. Just a never-ending blinding intensity.

His squirming turned to outright thrashing. He couldn’t control it. I finally had to actually tie him down, just to keep him from jerking away.

I wanted to see how long I could keep that going. How long could I keep him right there, right at that edge, without letting him cum?

Unfortunately, after a few minutes, it ended up being too much, and he came unexpectedly. But even that was great, specifically because it was so sudden. He’d spent minutes right there on that precipice, in the throes of that build-up, so he had no way of knowing when he was finally going to cross that line.

So it’s not completely foolproof. I’ll have to practice a bit with the wand, and see how to adjust to keep him on that edge indefinitely.

Because oh my god, you guys. Can you imagine?

Like, think of how it feels in that last half-second before you cum. Now prolong that feeling, with no orgasm. I didn’t even think that was possible. Not the way we managed it. Not without hours and hours and hours of intense teasing and fucking with his head beforehand.

Oh, but it’s possible, alright. And with a little practice, I’m hoping I’ll be able to manipulate that build-up. If I can, then I could potentially spend the afternoon just keeping him in that constant state of hyper-arousal.

I could do that for an entire evening. Or an entire day. Or a weekend.

Next time the inlaws are in town and take the spawn for the weekend, I’m definitely going to have to try that. I want to see what will happen if I keep him on that edge for a couple of days.

It’s a great plan. I couldn’t help but smile when I told him about it.

All he could do was sigh and say, “Yeah, can’t wait.”

Like he isn’t already fantasizing about it. Silly little boy.

Want to know the best part, though? The orgasm wasn’t even that strong. Not relative to the intensity of the prolonged buildup. He said it was enough that he felt satisfied, and it still felt good, it just was almost more of a letdown compared to how intense the edging was.

Though to be fair, he often feels that way about most of his orgasms, specifically because he likes the buildup and denial so much. He can’t do multiple orgasms, he’s very much a one-and-done kind of guy, so once he orgasms, all the pleasant feelings and buildup and horniness and awesomeness goes away, and it takes a couple of days to build it back up.

But even as far as his orgasms go, this one was remarkably average.

So I get a super intense and prolonged build-up, I get to tease him mercilessly, and even if I decide to show mercy and let him cum, the relief won’t be as intense as the torment itself.

Yeah, I’m happy. And I’m officially a fan of this wand.

So go check it out. And while you’re there, use my fancy promo code to get half off almost any single item.

Get 50% off almost any 1 adult item & FREE US/CAN shipping by using offer code DOMINA at AdamAndEve.com/?sc=DOMINA. 18+ Only.

A different approach

This past weekend, the spawn was staying with family, so Kazander and I had the house to ourselves.  Which is a rare enough occurrence that we wanted to take advantage of it.

I spent a big chunk of the morning and early afternoon teasing him and doing some light play, but the interesting thing happened when we decided to take a shower together.

I’d planned to make him cum in the shower, but when he got close, he fell into one of his old habits.  He moved away and said, “Wait, I don’t want to cum yet.”

It’s something that never fails to annoy me, and I usually launch into the same, tired reminder that he doesn’t get to make that decision, he doesn’t get to dictate to me when he cums, and he should be grateful I was in a nice enough mood to allow it in the first place.

We have gone round and round and round with this.  Depending on my mood and the day I’ve had, it’s gotten to the point now where it’s enough to quash my libido and make me completely uninterested in touching him for the rest of the day.

So that spike of annoyance ran through me, and I opened my mouth to voice my frustration.

But then, I had a different idea.

“Alright,” I said.  “Well come here, I want to edge you again.”

I made him bathe me in the shower, then I bent him over and fingered him while edging him two more times.

We got out of the shower and got dressed.  I made him edge again just before we had to go over and spend some time with the family next door.

About half an hour into the visit, I pulled out my phone and texted him.

“Go home and edge again.”

After dinner, we went back home and binge-watched a TV show together.  And at the end of every episode, he had to edge twice.

I think it was around Edge #12 or so that he figured out what I was doing.

“I should’ve just kept my mouth shut,” he groaned as he squirmed on the couch after yet another edge, his cock throbbing.

“Oh?” I asked.  “Did that end up being a bad idea?”

“A little bit.”

“I’m glad you think so.  Edge again.”

He sighed, there was just the slightest hesitation, and then he reluctantly reached down to bring himself to an edge again.

Another five or so edges later, he was frantic and desperate, the begging almost constant.  He kept trying to bribe me to let him cum, and he got a fantastic refresher course on just how relentless I can be.

Another five or so edges later, he couldn’t stop writhing even between edges, absently humping the couch, needing constant reminders not to touch himself.  At one point, I tied his hands to keep them off his cock.

“Please, Mistress,” he begged, his voice strained as I reached down to edge him again.  “I’ll do anything.”

“Will you?”

“I’m sorry, I messed up.”

“Is that so?”

“I won’t do it again, I promise.”

“I almost believe you.  Now hush, I think I can get a few more out of you.”

But the time I finally let him have a ruined orgasm, I was half expecting him to start crying.  But even with not having much relief from all the edging, he was more than happy to not touch his penis for the rest of the night.  And he was decidedly more well-behaved.

We played a bit tonight, and again, I decided to let him cum relatively quick.  But interestingly enough, this time there was no moving away or protesting or telling me he didn’t want to cum yet.

Afterward, I asked him about it, and he said he almost did, more out of habit than anything.  But then, he remembered the way it felt this weekend, and thought better of it.

So yeah, I think that’ll be a much more effective way to break him of that habit.  Way better than spanking him or scolding him.

It’s not a traditional punishment, per se, but it worked pretty damn well.  Yet another useful little tool to put in my tool belt.

A feminine sissy body

What’s sexier than a sissy slut?

Last time I was with Sounder, I noticed something while he was lying on his back, on his pink sissy bed, wearing his pretty lingerie.

He really is looking more and more feminine now that he’s been taking the birth control for awhile. His body looks softer, rounder, with more pronounced curves.

I can already see his tits under his clothes even when he’s wearing his boy costume. And it was so awesome when I realized that his boobs had gotten that big. We were out, having a couple of drinks after work, and he was wearing his normal professional work clothing.

At one point, he stretched in the chair, and I could plainly see the outline of his breasts under his shirt.

It was unbelievably hot.

Of course, that was a while ago, and his body has only gotten more feminine since then.

The most recent things I’ve noticed are his waist and hips. He really is developing a fucking sexy hourglass figure.  I love that I can see that subtle curve in his waist now.  And the longer he’s on the pills, the more pronounced those curves will become.

I mean, look at this picture.  If you didn’t know that this is a biological male, you’d totally look at this and assume it’s a pussy under those panties.

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My sissy is getting closer and closer to permanently crossing that line between masculine and feminine.  She’s getting closer and closer to becoming more girl than boy.

I’m so excited to see how his body continues to change.  Aren’t you excited to see how his body continues to change?

Purple!

So I had to buy a new strap-on after my toy bag was stolen, and settled on a new harness and purple dildo.

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This purple dildo

And as it happens, Sounder bought some new lingerie to surprise me with. Which was purple.

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Isn’t she sexy?

So we’re color-coordinated, isn’t that fun?

And holy shit, my sissy looks amazing with things inside of her.  It makes me want to put even more things inside of her.  Bigger things.

Like my fist.

Yeah, that would be hot as hell.  Let’s make that happen.

The good bottle or the bad bottle?

I love games. Don’t you love games?

I totally love games.

I might have thought of a new game. Figuring out logistics will take some work, but it’s possible.

So Sounder is going to be fucked by Kazander. This we all know.

I was talking to Sounder about that today, specifically about how much of an eager sissy cockwhore he is with me, and how much he dreads being fucked by a man.

What, Jen? What would be awesome?

I’m glad you asked.

Okay, so Sounder has never had a real cock in him. He has no idea what that feels like. He doesn’t really know what to expect.

So here’s what I’m thinking. I’ll tie his wrists to his ankles and lay him on his side.

Like this, except with rope and on his side

And I’ll blindfold him, so he can’t see anything.

Then, either Kazander or I will come up behind him and enter him, careful not to touch him except for the cock.

And then, once one of us is inside him, he’ll have to guess who it is.

We’ll have to be careful, though.

Because if he feels a strap-on harness or bare skin, he’ll know who’s in him. He also knows my touch, so if one of us grabs or touches him, he’ll know.

I’ll have to use a new dildo, too. One right about the same size as Kazander’s cock, that Sounder has never seen. Preferably one of the ones that are supposed to feel realistic.

With him tied up like that, we should be able to get almost all the way in him without touching him.

Hopefully. And that’s where I wonder if it might not be feasible. There’s such a tiny margin of error. If he feels or senses or hears anything else, it’ll tip him off.

But if it goes right…

All he’ll have to go on is the cock inside of him.

If he guesses right, we’ll spitroast him, with me fucking his pussy and Kazander fucking his mouth.

If he guesses wrong, we’ll switch. Kazander will fuck his pussy and I’ll fuck his mouth.

And of course, I love the idea of Kazander being the one in him, and then when he makes his guess, I’ll take the blindfold off, and he’ll look up to see if he guessed right.

And he’ll look up to meet the eyes of the man whose cock is inside him right at that moment. Not only will he realize that a man’s cock is penetrating him for the very first time, but he’ll look up and meet Kazander’s eyes, as he feels his cock filling him up.

Whether or not he guesses right, that could be a fun moment.

Of course, if he guesses right, that means Kazander will pull out of him and start fucking his mouth. So he won’t have to be fucked by a man, but he’ll still be facefucked by one, and he’ll still have to swallow his load, and he’ll get to experience ass to mouth for the very first time.

But then again, that may be too easy. Sounder is very much aware of my love of a good mindfuck. And putting Kazander in him is definitely something I would do, just to fuck with him.

So he would likely expect that.

And besides, it would also be amazing if I’m the one in him, and he guesses wrong, and realizes that he could’ve had me fucking him, and instead he gets to deepthroat my cock (which was just in his pussy) while a man fucks him.

But he may expect that, too. Because putting Kazander in him is the obvious choice. He knows I’m not going to go for the obvious choice, so he may expect that it’ll be me in him.

In which case I’ll definitely need to put Kazander in him.

Really, it’s less about trying to determine what’s inside of him by the way it feels, and more about what he thinks I’m going to do.

It’s like that riddle in Sherlock and Princess Bride.

Did I put my cock in him, or Kazander’s?

“Did I give you the good bottle or the bad bottle?”

You know, except no one dies, and we spitroast a sissy.

How many times will I go back and forth before settling on the answer? What do I think he’ll expect me to do? What does he think I’ll expect him to guess?

Like I said, I don’t actually know if it can be done, but if it can, you’d better believe that’s what I’m going to do, and it’ll be so much fun!