A Submissive Sissy

Here you'll find my favorites Sissy & Femdom stories, the best one I've ever read over the net since many years and believe me, that's a lot ! I'm also a wool fetishist, so you may come accross this type of topic around here too... Hope you'll like it !

Sara Girl

Room & Board 5

User Rating:  / 8

"Clean him up when you're done. Tomorrow, he's going to Richard's," Amanda had said right before she walked out of the room and I exploded in orgasm as Imelda stroked my cock and probed my ass with her fingers.

Richard! What the hell?

The orgasm overcame me, overwhelmed me, exhausted me. Imelda practically had to carry me upstairs and get me into bed.

"We'll get you cleaned up in the morning," she whispered, tucking me into bed still half dressed. The day had been too much for me. My brain was overloaded, ready to shut down into a deep sleep to protect itself.

Richard. Amanda. Imelda. Lisa. They were all in my dreams, haunting me. Tormenting me.

Man. Woman. Sissy. I think I cried in my own dreams.

Imelda woke me up the next morning, threw open the curtains allowing the early morning light to come into my room. I felt a little sore and tremendously humiliated from the previous day. My ass, not that long ago invaded by Imelda's probing fingers, still felt wet with the lubricant she used. My balls and cock, even though released yesterday, were sore, like I'd been kicked.

"Up, Jamie, you need to shower." Imelda clapped her hands loudly when I put my pillow over my head, wanting the darkness to continue.

"Please, let me sleep Imelda."

"No, no sleep. You go to Richards in hour, need to get dressed."

Richard is Amanda Drake's companion, lover, boyfriend, or something. He is in his mid-fifties, tall, dark, strong, handsome. He is to Amanda everything I fantasized about being to her, my feelings for Lisa aside. Maybe he is the embodiment of everything I wished I was to Lisa. A man's man, as it were.

"Wait, wait a second." I sat up in bed. I put aside for a minute the bizarre situation, or what Amanda would make it into, and focused on the practical. "Imelda, I have class today."

"Yes, Ms. Drake know. You skip class today."

"But I can't just skip class." Working for Amanda was really impacting my studies. I'd cut back on classes, missed class, missed assignments, all because of work I was doing for Amanda.

Imelda regarded me closely for a few seconds. "Shall I pack bags then." I'm not sure it was a threat or a joke. Knowing the two of them it was neither, just a fact. I did what Ms. Drake wanted while I was in her employ, regardless of the costs or consequences in the rest of my life.

Really, I didn't even think about the alternatives, but meekly lowered my head, stood up, undressed and went to the shower. I was broken and defeated. Amanda Drake controlled my life.

After I'd showered and done all the preparatory things I needed to do to be "pretty", I wrapped a towel around my chest like a woman does and came into the bedroom where Imelda was waiting. "Here, this first to tuck." Imelda handed me a white pair of thong type panties that I put on and arranged myself into in such a way that I was effectively neutered by them.

"That is gaffe. Hide your little thingy." Imelda motioned me over to the table where she had two flesh colored blobs set down.

"What are those," I asked.

"Your breasts."

"Breasts? What do you mean my breasts?"

Imelda picked one up, sprayed something on it, and reached out to my chest, pressing the blob quickly and firmly onto me. "What are these?"

She said nothing, but repeated what she'd done with the other side of my chest. I looked down. Breasts? Breasts! "Here, hold," she ordered me, watching as I put my hands up to my...to my breasts. For five minutes she made me hold the flesh colored objects to my chest. They actually warmed. They were so soft, yet firm, bouncy even. They were...breasts. As I held onto them, they became an extension of me. My god, I had breasts! Sweet, glorious breasts! It was like I was holding a woman's breasts in my hands, but they...they were mine! These were my breasts! This was so fucked up.

Imelda said I could let go, and I have to admit, I did so very reluctantly. I was in shock at the level of reality, how true to life they felt, the breasts now attached to my body. I hardly wanted to let go of them. My god, if I was a woman, I'd never stop playing with myself!

Imelda noticed of course. Of course she'd notice. "You like breasts, no?"

"Yes." I answered quickly, my brain answering that I liked breasts...on a woman. Not quite understanding fast enough Imelda's real meaning in the question.

"Yes, they do look good on you."

"No, I mean I like breasts, a woman's breasts. Not breasts on me, Imelda."

"You protest Jamie, too much. You don't want to let go? I can tell."

I was still holding them and quickly dropped my hands to my side.

"It's okay Jamie," she laughed, enjoying her little taunt with me as she helped me into a white satin bra to contain my new breasts. But to me it was not okay because she was right. I did enjoy holding the breasts in my hands. My breasts. They felt so real, the soft flesh like material. It was not alright because I wanted to rebel at everything that was happening. It was just sick. But so compelling, and I didn't know why. I wanted to sit down and think about it, to try to figure this all out, to self reflect.

"Here, I don't think you need help with these anymore." Imelda handed me a pair of cream pantyhose. She watched me sit down and carefully pull the pantyhose up my smooth legs. "You wear stocking, but skirt too short," she said, as if I was wondering, which I was not.

Imelda handed me the skirt, a cream pleated linen skirt that was kind of short. Not tramp short, but not really past mid thigh when I stepped into it and zippered it closed around my trim waist. The next part of my outfit was a white cotton long sleeved blouse that ended just barely at the waistband of my skirt.

"Here, this too." Imelda handed me a thin brown v-neck sweater that she helped me into, folding the cuffs of my blouse sleeves once up over the arms of the sweater. The blouse and sweater combination was quite feminine, and really emphasized my breasts. I shuddered. "My breasts."

After giving me cream heels, Imelda directed me back to the table, the make up table really, and did make up for me. The colors coordinated well with my outfit, the browns and tans over my eyes, the lip gloss. Imelda took something from a drawer. Press on fingernails, in a white French manicure. The feeling my hands had with the nails on was eerie.

With the exception of jewelry, a brown wig carefully placed onto my head and a spray of perfume completed her feminization of me this morning.

"How you like?" She stood back and looked at my reflection in the mirror.

"I...I'm...why are I going to Richards?" I avoided answering her question. How did I like? My god, as always, I was simply amazed at the transformation. Again and again, I thought how pretty a girl I was.

"Office girl."

"Office girl? What do you mean office girl?"

"Mr. Richard need help with some project at home. Need office girl to do some work. Ms. Drake tell him not hire temp, she send you."

"But what do I know about that kind of stuff?"

Imelda laughed. "You look like office girl, no? That a start. You can type. You can follow directions. That enough, no? Come on, need not be late."

She led me downstairs to Amanda's office to tell her that she was bringing me to Richards.

"Oh, Imelda, she looks divine."

"Thank you Ms. Drake."

"Jamie, Imelda will drive you over to Richard's house. As she may have told you, he needs someone to do some office work today and I was happy to volunteer you."

"Yes, Ma'am, I'm just not sure about his," I said.

"Not sure? Why not?"

"I'm not an office girl. I don't know what I'm doing."

"Oh, don't worry. If I know anything about Richard Stockwell, the most important thing he looks for in his staff is looks. He loves to have pretty young things helping him out, so you'll fit in just fine. Just mind your manners, follow Mr. Stockwell's directions and you'll do fine."

"I'm missing school, though."

"Hmmm," she said, uninterested, looking at her computer screen. "Just don't let him get fresh with you, okay?"

As if! "Yes, Ma'am."

"Seriously Jamie," she looked up at me. "Richard has a thing for pretty young girls."

"But I'm not a girl." She was looking at her computer again, typing, ignoring me.

Just what was I getting myself into?

Imelda pulled up to a modest home on a cul-de-sac, impressive, but not in Amanda's league. All brick, clearly wealthy but not rich. The yard was tastefully done, a silver BMW 5 series was parked in front of a three car garage. "You get out now," Imelda said, unlocking the car door.

I carefully stepped out of Imelda's car, paused, waited for her, but she did not get out to join me. Instead she lowered the window.

"Be good girl, sissy," she laughed through the window, putting the car into drive and pulling down the driveway.

I probably should have started crying. Maybe if I'd given in to tears I would have run down the block, found a bus, and gotten the hell out of Amanda Drake's life. As it was I could not even muster up the courage to do that. Walking to the door was somehow easier. Easier than telling Lisa what was going on, easier than walking in public like this. Somehow it was easier to submit. Like I wanted to submit.

Before I got to the door, I saw a woman pull up pull up in a mini van two houses down. Fuck. Feminine. Walk feminine. Don't be nervous. Don't let her think something is wrong.

I walked quickly up to the door, tugged my skirt down as best I could, rang the doorbell, and stood back waiting.

Richard Stockwell opened the door. I forgot how handsome he was. Forget about what a woman, or even a sissy would think. Or how homoerotic it would be for a man, even a sissy, to be dressed like I was and think a man handsome. But Richard was. Tall and fit in his charcoal suit and red tie. Tan. Yes, simply handsome. I doubt I could help think anything else.

Butterflies were dancing in my stomach. As beautiful as Amanda was, Richard was handsome. It was certainly disturbing for me to think that way, to find a man attractive, but I couldn't help it.

"Ah, Jamie, right on time, come in, come in." Richard stepped back from the door to usher me into the foyer. I could feel his eyes burning into me, taking me in.

"You'll forgive me Jamie, I wasn't quite sure what to expect today."

"What do you mean, Mr. Stockwell?"

"Last time I saw you at Amanda's you were, well, how do I put it? Less than masculine, but certainly not womanly or pretty enough for a job like this. Amanda has done wonders with you. You're quite the dish."

I could not help but blush at his compliment. He found me pretty!

"Don't take that the wrong way, Jamie, I'm not criticizing your appearance last time I saw you, I'm just pleased with how pretty you are. Amanda is certainly quite amazing. Your outfit is very well done. Professional, yet innocent, youthful, but sexy. Very well done indeed. I've never had a sissy work for me before, but I think you're every bit as pretty as most of the girls."

I brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes, conscious again of the feminine gesture I'd used before.

"Not that I'm surprised, really. Amanda does know what she's doing, doesn't she? Well, enough of that, come, we've work to do."

I followed Richard down the hall to a small office towards the back of his house where he put me right to work answering some letters, filing some papers and doing some general secretarial work at a small glass top desk while he sat at a full desk making phone calls.

It took me at least an hour to realize what Richard tended to do when he was listening to others talk on the phone. I thought at first he kept looking up to see if I was working. I was clearly new to office work and so it would not be too unusual for him to check on me. But once, while uncrossing and recrossing my legs, I realized he was not checking on my work progress. He was actually checking on me. He had a great view of my legs under my desk and spent minutes at a time staring absently at them, eyeing my legs in their pantyhose.

I was suddenly very self conscious of my legs, even my chest, fake breasts as they were. Richard was not too overt about it, but there was no doubt that he was routinely staring at my nylon covered legs. I'm still not sure what possessed me to think this way, but I actually decided to have some fun with it. Hell, if this is all a woman needed to do to catch a man's eye, it was amazing. Just moving my legs around caught his eye every time.

I noticed that every time I uncrossed my legs, Richard looked over. I half slipped off one of my heels, letting it dangle on the edge of my foot, and Richard almost hurt himself moving his head towards me. I was turning him on, I was sure of it! I never thought that this was completely wrong, of course, that I was a young man trying to attract an older man. No, I just focused on how fun it was to manipulate a man like this.

While I was editing a letter, Richard covered up the phone and motioned with his fingers. "Jamie, bring me the Morrison file." Here was another chance to tease. I walked carefully over to his desk, around to his side, opened the Morrison file in front of him, practically leaning into him, lingering just for a few seconds longer than I had any need to before walking seductively back to my desk.

When he got off the phone he looked up, got up, and asked me for another part of the file. While he was walking over to me, I got the file, walked to the front of my desk and handed it to him.

"Jamie, what are you doing?"

"Um, this is the file you wanted." I said, holding it out towards him.

"That's not what I'm talking about Jamie, you know it. What are you doing?" He was continuing to walk toward me, and I backed up slowly until I hit the edge of the table, almost falling backwards over it.

"I...I don't know what you mean, Mr. Stockwell." He took the file out of my hands and tossed it to the desk where it made a loud crash.

"Child, do you think I was born yesterday? You're sitting over here crossing your legs, dangling your shoe, playing with your hair, leaning over me. Do you have any idea what you're doing?" He actually seemed angry. There was a flash of malice in his eyes. He continued to move closer towards me until I was half sitting, half leaning on the edge of the desk, my legs crossed in front of me.

"Mr. Stockwell, please, you're scaring me," I said, arms shaking, holding myself up.

He got closer, leaning over me, his legs straddled mine. His crotch almost was on top of my knee, while his arms were on the desk beside mine. He leaned into me, his face inches from mine. I could see the raw power in his eyes. I could smell him, the mint of his breath, the musk of his cologne. Suddenly, I felt very afraid and unsure of myself. Fuck, what was I doing? What the hell was I doing?

"Sissy, do you have any idea what you are playing with? Do you? I have half a mind to take you across my lap right here and right now and spank your ass with my hand until you scream." He was breathing heavily and my arms were shaking mightily. He wouldn't! He moved ever so carefully closer and suddenly I could feel him inside his pants. Oh my God! He was erect! I could feel his erection on my leg. This was...oh fuck, what did I do?

"Feel that, Jamie? Do you?" His voice was a low growl. "You've never felt one before, have you?" His breath was warm on my face. I could see the stubble on his face. "You've never felt a man's cock."

Instinctively I knew the answer was no, that I didn't count. "Nnnnooo sir," I said, trying to wet my mouth, terrified now, wanting to pull away from him, but scared to even breathe.

"Little girls like you should not play with things they don't know about yet. I know Amanda has not finished training you, so you'd better be careful who you tease."

Finished training me? What did he know about what Amanda was doing? What did he mean training me? And finish? What was he talking about? I wanted to ask but was too scared to question him.

"I...I didn't think I was doing anything bad." He was pressing closer to me, his erection firmly pushing into my leg. I could feel the heat from his crotch against me.

"Forget the spanking." He took my face into one of his hands. "I've half a mind to pick you up, carry you up to my bedroom, tie you down to my bed, and rape that cute ass of yours, Jamie."

"Mr. Stockwell," I shuddered, "please." I could feel his erection growing, pressing into my leg. I wanted to scream, but felt frozen and trapped. It was made a thousand times worse because I could actually feel a tingling in my own loins. He was...he was turning me on. My God! I was turned on. What the hell was happening to me? The heat from his erection, the hardness, his raw power were an aphrodisiac. No!

He stepped back just slightly, his erection pulling away from my leg. "You really are lucky you belong to Amanda. If any of my girls acted like this, I really would march her upstairs. Now, unless you'd like that, you are to focus on your work, sissy, is that clear?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

I was panting like a dog when I answered. "Yyyess Sir," and walked around my desk back to my chair, terrified at what had just happened and terrified at the longing I felt right now in my stomach and in my panties. I'd never thought of men in a sexual way before, but Richard's display of power shattered me to my core. Why the hell was that turning me on?

The rest of the afternoon passed without incident and I worked hard, at the paperwork he gave me and even harder at avoiding him and his gaze. But as much as I tried to focus on my work, every time I looked at Richard, I pictured him taking me over his knee, spanking me and then taking me. Every time I looked at him, my stomach turned and my loins heaved!

When Imelda came to pick me up before dinner, before we got to the foyer where she was waiting, he leaned over towards me and whispered in my ear. "Next time I see you, if you shake that sissy ass of yours around me, it's going to feel my belt and maybe more, Amanda's property or not."

And with that, he gave my ass a firm swat and took me into the hallway to deliver me to Imelda.

I swear I shook violently!

"You quiet," Imelda said driving me home. "How was Mr. Stockwell?"


"You like work with him?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Imelda."

"Awww, he work you hard? You can complain to Ms. Drake when she get home from trip."

"Trip? What do you mean trip? She's out of town?" She didn't mention anything to me, not that I'm her personal secretary, or even that she fills me in.

"She go to Atlanta for meeting. Be home Saturday. Don't worry, you not have to tell me about Mr. Stockwell, she get report from him when she talk to him."

Oh, just fucking great. Something to look forward to. Amanda getting filled in by him on our afternoon. Just wonderful. Thanks Imelda. The rest of this week was going to suck.

"It just us maids till Saturday," Imelda said, reaching over to roughly slap my thigh. "Maybe we have fun." Instead of putting her hand back on the wheel, she left it on my thigh for a minute, rubbing my pantyhose.

"Great," I mumbled. I wanted to pull away from her. Get out of the car. Get out of this life. It was all there for me to do, of course. All I had to do was get out of the car and walk away. But I knew it was not that easy now. I had no money. I didn't even know if I had a suitcase to pack up my things at the house. I could always go to Lisa, but I had no idea how I'd explain what was going on, even if I was dressed as a man. I felt trapped. A trap of my own making.

Actually, being left with Imelda in charge was not as bad as I'd thought it would be when we were in the car. I half pictured being molested again by this fat old maid, but she did not bother me like that. The worst thing Imelda did was exert control over my daily selection of panties, picking out the most feminine of pairs for me to wear to school under my male clothes. She also introduced me to my new night time wear.

I'd always slept in just boxers and a tee shirt, though of course the boxers were out since they took all those away, so I'd been sleeping in a shirt and panties.

But Imelda changed that. She made stay in the outfit I wore to Richard's all evening. I called Lisa after dinner, sitting on the couch in the downstairs living room watching television. I was self conscious of my femininity, the difficulty in pushing the small buttons on my cell phone with feminine fingernails, the swell of my breasts apparent to me when Lisa answered the phone. Imelda came in when I was on the phone with her and sat right down next to me, her coarse cotton uniform flowing right up against my leg.

"Yea, I missed you too Lisa, but I had something to do for Ms. Drake today."

Imelda looked at me, reached over to move the hem of her dress off my pantyhose covered leg, but as in the car, left her hand on my thigh. It pained me to talk to Lisa with Imelda's meaty hand pawing me. Just the thought of Imelda made my stomach unsettled. Yet...yet...

I still felt something stir in me. I was not attracted to Imelda at all, quite the opposite. The thought of this heavy set older woman repulsed me, but at the same time, her power over me was intoxicating. Not as powerful as Ms. Drake, but powerful none the less. Powerful enough that her forced intimacy, her hand on my leg, as unsettling as it was, was still erotic. Much as Richard's advances had been.

"I know I've missed a lot of assignments, Lisa, but Ms. Drake had me doing..."

Imelda was massaging my leg. I tried to move away, but she squeezed and I did not want to make a scene while I was on the phone with Lisa.

"Lisa, yes. Yes. But remember, she is paying my room and board and I can't afford to....yes....yes, so, you see, what am I supposed to do?"

Imelda chuckled.

"Yea...okay, I'll see you tomorrow, I promise. Yeah. Love you." I hung up, dropped the phone, and immediately stood up. "Imelda!"

She snickered. "I just thinking what Lisa think about boyfriend dressed so pretty." She said 'boyfriend' in a laugh.

"Imelda, what is it with you and Ms. Drake," I asked, dejected, still smarting from my afternoon at Richard's.

Imelda regarded me for a few seconds. "It not my place to say, Jamie."

"Why is she doing this to me?"

"You ask Ms. Drake. But if you no like, you can quit you know." I didn't answer. "But you no want to quit, Jamie, I know that."

I turned away from her, feeling a tear well up in my eye. Dammit, I did want to quit! But she was right, something held me back. Amanda Drake.

"Oh, Jamie, don't be sad. Come with me, I have surprise for you."

I turned, wiped my eyes and followed Imelda up to my bedroom, dreading what possible surprise was in store for me. She led me to my dresser, reached down and opened my tee shirt drawer.

"Surprise! No more ugly shirts at night."

I looked down to see what she was talking about. My tee shirt drawer was empty. Well, it wasn't empty; it was just emptied of all my tee shirts, anyway. It was full of silk and satin.

"Imelda, what's all this?" I reached into the drawer to quickly look around. I was just filled with lingerie.

"Teddies, camisoles and tap panties, chemises, gowns. All things for you sleep in. You need girl things to dream in."

"I have to sleep in these?" I sighed, thinking again I had to get out of here, and thinking again that I knew I wouldn't do it, I would not quit.

"Oh yes, girlie sweet dreams for Ms. Drake's sissy."

"Imelda, I'm not a sissy." I folded my arms under my fake breasts, trying to show some defiance, but Imelda just laughed.

"Jamie, you no fool me. You may not want to be sissy, but you do it anyway."

"But I'm not. I'm only doing this because Ms. Drake makes me. I...I need this job, Imelda, I can't quit and mess up school."

"It no matter why, Jamie, it only matter that you do."

I rationalized. I was only doing this for the job. Of course I knew my obsession with Amanda had a big part to play in why I continued to allow myself to be degraded. I knew that was unhealthy, but like an alcoholic, knowing it and stopping are two different things.

"Imelda, I...I don't want these things. I don't want to sleep like this, really."

"You tell Ms. Drake that? You tell her? You hear her, Jamie, you know she like her boys in pretty things, no?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I have to!"

"Jamie," she bent down into the drawer and picked up an ivory satin set from the top, "you know Ms. Drake like. You wear for her, no? She think you so pretty in them."

She held out the items, a spaghetti strap camisole and matching tap panties. I stared at them, her words burning in my mind and even more in my loins. How could I resist? Amanda wanted me to wear them.

And so I spent the night, tucked into bed by Imelda, wearing the satin lingerie and dreaming sweet sissy dreams.

Friday, Lisa and I had a date. I was actually earning decent money, if only because I didn't have anything to spend it on since I had no living expenses. I planned to take Lisa out to a nice dinner at an expensive restaurant she'd mentioned several times.

Of course, I had to beg Imelda to let me wear white cotton panties. She'd been giving me the most feminine panties to wear while she was in charge and teased me on Thursday and Friday about my underwear possibilities for my date on Friday night. I wanted the cotton, even if they did have a Victoria's Secret tag, because I wanted to make love to Lisa. Of course I knew that I'd have to focus on her when we made love, but I imagined that normal love making was in the cards for Friday.

So early Friday evening just before I got dressed, Imelda made me beg one more time for the cotton panties. She made me tell her I wanted panties, to beg for them, to beg to be allowed to wear plain cotton panties. I had to tell her why, that I wanted them because I wanted to make love to Lisa.

Much to my embarrassment, she even brought up my first time making love to Lisa, my failures, and made me promise to do better, before relenting and giving me a pair of cotton briefs. How sad was it that I was grateful to be wearing women's cotton panties on my date with my girlfriend?

Wearing those, a dark blue suit, French blue shirt and a tie, I drove over to Lisa's apartment to pick her up. I stopped at a florist on the way over, the one Amanda used for her fresh flowers, and picked up a dozen red roses. Red roses mean love, right?

Lisa answered the door and thanked me for the flowers. The look in her eyes said all that needed to be said about her feelings for our date. They sparkled, radiated, were illuminated. Of course, I was only able to look into her eyes for a moment, because the rest of Lisa's beauty stole my gaze from her eyes to the rest of her.

Lisa redefined the beauty of a little black dress. I can't adequately describe the way she wore the black satin dress on her body, because I had to look away before I was blinded by her beauty. Momentarily Amanda entered my mind, and I wondered what the hell I was doing allowing my infatuation with Amanda to interfere in any way with my love for Lisa, though that thought quickly left. I looked down, at Lisa's legs encased in pretty black nylons, at her feet in strappy sandals, because I actually felt nervous around her right now.

I'd never been completely comfortable around pretty girls, I'd always thought they were out of my league. Well, I was dating an amazing girl, no woman, but I was nevertheless intimidated by her beauty. Like she was too pretty for me. Lisa herself rescued me from my embarrassment by reaching for the flowers, thanking me with a kiss, and going to put them in water. I suppose I wasn't out of her league, even if I felt it.

It was difficult to concentrate on our drive to the restaurant because my eyes kept wandering over to Lisa's lap to stare at her legs. I knew I was and always had been a leg man, and Lisa's beautiful legs were very distracting.

We parked and the valet opened Lisa's door to help her out. When I got out of the car and came around to her side to hand the keys to the valet, Lisa took my hand, leaned over, and whispered in my ear right after I handed him the keys, "I think I flashed him the tops of my stockings."

She was wearing stockings? I turned to her bug eyed. "Sorry," she whispered, squeezing my hand, seeing the surprise on my face. "That was a supposed to be part of a surprise for you for later." I looked back to my car to see the valet still standing by the passenger side of the car, watching us walk into the restaurant. No, that's not right. He was paying no attention to me, he was staring at Lisa, undressing her with his eyes. I felt a pang of jealousy seeing a man so obviously checking out my girlfriend.

Lisa obviously knew the effect she had on the valet, though perhaps not the effect it all had on me, when she squeezed my hand and said loud enough for both of us to hear, "I think he liked it."

We were seated in a dimly lit corner at a candle lit table, though I'm not sure how I managed to walk over there with my knees wobbling from what just happened. I didn't know how the food was going to be, but that atmosphere was just about as romantic as possible, very tastefully done.

During dinner we shared a bottle of wine, then a second, though Lisa had more than I did since I had to drive. She wasn't drunk, but I could tell the alcohol had lowered her inhibitions a little as we talked, held hands even while eating, and looked into one another's eyes.

"Jamie, this is just wonderful." She squeezed my hand. "I love you." My heart leapt, my cock twitched and I almost teared up at hearing sweet Lisa use that name. I loved her too, so much. The knot in my stomach, though, reminded me how fucked up this entire situation had become. I tried not to think of it while telling her how much I loved her in return.

Dinner was wonderful, the food matching the atmosphere at the restaurant. "Is it gone," Lisa asked, looking at the second bottle of wine?

"Half a glass, maybe." She held her glass up, and I poured the rest of the wine for her.

"Thank you sweetie." Her smile just melted my heart.

I just sighed in return. A content sigh, looking into her sparkling eyes.

"Remember the valet?" she asked, taking a sip.

"Yea," I laughed, trying to sound confident, not nervous, not understanding the pang of jealousy that zipped through me, nor why it seemed to settle in my loins.

"The waiter is just as bad."

"What do you mean, Lisa?"

"You didn't notice?"

"No." I noticed her, that's about all. I'm not sure I even knew our waiter had been there once we got our food.

"Seriously? Jamie, he's been checking me out the whole night, just like that valet." Some women might have said that in a disgusted, "typical man" fashion, insulted that a man would dare look at them like that, but Lisa had a different tone in her voice.

"You're not mad, are you? Should I say something?" I asked her. I wanted to protect her, but she didn't sound like she needed my protection. Lisa was a strong, confident woman, probably better able to handle a situation like that than I was.

"No, no, Jamie, I'm flattered, really. I really took my time to look pretty for you. I guess you're not the only one who noticed." She playfully squeezed my hand again.

"Lisa, you do look beautiful tonight."

"Thanks babe. You look nice, too. Love you." She winked at me, pulled her hand away, finished her glass of wine. "You almost ready?"

"Yea, yea, the check is taken care of."

"Good. I don't know why I feel like this...kind of naughty, I guess, maybe it's the wine, or being with you, but," she looked around, backing her chair away from the table. "I'm going to give the waiter a cheap thrill."

"What...what are you doing?" I was suddenly nervous again, feeling like I did when the valet checked her out. Jealous, yet proud of the beautiful woman I was with. I narrowed my eyes as she put her hands in her lap.


I sat up, looked over the top of the table at her legs. She'd lifted the hem of her dress up her thighs, and had actually exposed the tops of her stockings. I could see the black welt, the metal garters and her creamy thighs. "Lisa, what are you doing!?"

"Shhh," she laughed, "sit back, let me have my fun. You can see more when we get back to my place, let him see what he's missing." She was clearly in a playful mood, but this was uncomfortable for me.

Maybe it was the unease, the thought that I was wearing panties, that I was living this double life, that I'd lose Lisa if I kept this up. Was I worried? I still felt uncomfortable about our first lovemaking. Inadequate. I felt unease at Amanda and Imelda's constantly calling me a sissy. A sissy couldn't keep a woman like Lisa! A sissy couldn't compete...I could not help thinking it...against men! Like the waiter or the valet. How could I ever keep her if she found out what I was doing? What the hell would she think of a sissy?

But I was the one sitting here with her. I was the one she told she loved, so maybe I was just being foolishly jealous. But the word kept running through my brain. "Sissy."

Obviously, the waiter's eyes just about dropped out of their sockets when he came back to clear the table. Obviously, he lingered, taking his time. Obviously he was staring at my girlfriend's legs, the tops of her stockings, her creamy white thighs. What wasn't so obvious to him or to Lisa, who was eating up the attention, was the erotic effect it had on me, the shockingly erotic effect.

Watching the waiter ogle my girlfriend should have pissed me off. I expected it to piss me off, for jealousy over my possession -- Lisa -- to take over and turn to anger. But it didn't. Instead I felt a stirring in my crotch. Oh, I felt the jealousy, alright, there was no doubt about it, but the feeling didn't turn to anger -- instead of flying to my heart, it flew to my crotch. The jealousy didn't turn to rage, but to....to fucking sexual excitement. I was breathing through my open mouth, actually getting turned on watching the waiter watch Lisa!

Lisa, who was basking in the attention, watching the waiter out of the corner of her eye, suddenly looked at me. I could see it out of the corner of my eye, this bizarre circle-the waiter looking at Lisa, who was looking at me, while I was looking at him. I don't really know what any of us thought about this little dance. I finally looked away from our waiter and over at Lisa, who had a Cheshire grin on her face. She must have known she was having some effect on her boyfriend, and I sensed she felt some of the erotic feeling that was circling the table.

Watching me watch her, Lisa licked her lips, her pink tongue darted, wetted her pink lip gloss, in an acknowledgement of the eroticism of this little scene. Then I heard her uncross and recross her legs, and caught a flash of the hem of her dress riding a little higher on her thighs, exposing just a little more skin.

We all froze for at least a minute, none of us moving or talking. The waiter gave up any pretense of actually clearing the table and simply stared at my girlfriend's exposed stockings and skin. I was on the verge of shaking, breathing heavily, staring at Lisa.

Lisa just took it all in, the attention, finally breaking the frozen scene when she spoke. "Want to take me home?" For a brief instant, a tiny erotic fantasy zipped from my cotton panties to my brain. Was she speaking to the waiter? Was she making an invitation to the muscular man staring at her thighs? In that brief second, I actually fantasized that she was, that she was responding to his attention. And in that same second, it actually turned me on even more! What the hell!

Then I shook my head and snapped out of my trance. The waiter mumbled something and quickly left our table. Lisa discretely pulled the hem of her dress back over her thighs and started to stand up. I just as quickly hopped out of my chair to come slide hers away for her. I had to get my brain out of that fucked up impromptu scene before that fantasy made me get a full erection! I could feel myself stirring in the panties...fuck...panties....that made it worse!

"Want to take me home?" It wouldn't leave my brain just yet, and I felt a continued stirring in my panties. Dead puppies! Dead puppies! School. The inverse relationship between long term bond yields and....anything to stop what was happening in my pants!

We walked to pick up our car from the valet, and I had an incredibly lucky break. The valet from earlier was not there and instead some older guy brought us our car and he was so busy, he never even gave Lisa so much as a glance. I don't know if I could have taken anything else right this minute, if I'd just simply explode with these feelings I had inside me.

We drove in silence back to Lisa's apartment, and I was grateful because I don't know what I'd even say to her, so torn was I between complete lust for her and utter shock at my own perverted mind in thinking she was making a sexual invitation to our waiter with me sitting right there. Why the hell was that erotic? It wasn't, it was sick! Yet...yet...it was...it was erotic.

Back outside her place, we parked, and walked hand in hand up to her door. I don't think there was any question of inviting me in, I assumed as much at this point in our relationship. Inside, I closed the door, turned to my beautiful girlfriend. "Did you have fun?"

She answered by taking my face in her hands, pulling my mouth to hers and kissing me deeply, passionately, even harshly. "I love you, Jamie," she whispered in between her kisses. She let go of my face, took me by the hand, and started to pull me to her bedroom.

"Come on, I told you I had a surprise for you. I think its time my boyfriend finally got a good look at my stockings that those men saw tonight. And find out the rest of his surprise." Men. She seemed older when she said that, beyond her years when she said it. In fact, her tone reminded me in some way of Amanda. Lisa was of course far sweeter than Amanda, and returned the love I had for her with a tenderness I'd never seen Amanda exhibit to me. But the way she said that, I could almost picture Amanda Drake, twenty years ago, using the same tone.

Not that the fucked up image of Amanda and Lisa residing in my brain stopped me from following Lisa to her bedroom. Especially not tugged along by Lisa.

She pulled me into her den of femininity, sat me on the bed where I watched her light several candles, turn on soft music and turn off the lights. She cast erotic shadows on the walls as she moved around the room, the soft light making her radiate even more.

Lisa walked to the middle of the room, facing me, glowing. "James, I really did want it to be a surprise," she reached up to unzip her dress, "but since those men seemed to like it so much, I'm sure you'll love it. And the part they didn't get to see." She dropped her dress to the ground, stood there, a vision of beauty I'd never imagined I'd see in person. Her black stockings were held up by a black satin garter belt. She was wearing a coordinating set of black panties and a bra that pushed her breasts into a gravity defying show of cleavage.

"Lisa," I whispered, feeling lightheaded for a second.

She laughed a girlish, innocent laugh. "You like? I was actually kind of self conscious getting dressed earlier, almost like I was playing grown up. But, at dinner tonight, when those guys were ogling me, I...I don't know, I felt...feel so...it's hard to describe...powerful."

Powerful? She was a fucking goddess! "Lisa, you're so...so beautiful."

"I was worried about looking trashy." She looked down at her body. "But at the restaurant I felt...the waiter...hell, even now, look at you practically drooling," she grinned at me, "I never realized the power a woman can have over a man."

Oh my fucking word, if she only knew the half of it! But I knew she was catching on, I could see a light going off in her head. "Do you love me, Jamie?"

"Yyyesss," I gasped, realizing I had one hell of a tent in my pants.

Lisa took the two short steps towards the bed so she was right in front of me. She reached for my tie, seductively undid it, removed it. "I love you, too, darling. Are you ready for the rest of your surprise?"

Hell, and I thought her outfit was the surprise! She was just getting started.

She helped me out of my jacket, tossing it off the bed, doing the same with my shirt, running her fingernails over my bare chest. On my own I managed to get my shoes and socks off while Lisa undid my belt, directed me out of my trousers.

Even though my underwear...my panties...were cotton briefs, they were still women's panties...Victoria's Secret panties, and I wanted to get them off too.

"Not yet, baby," she said, moving my hands away from my panties, away from the erection. I was practically shaking from the combination of the unadulterated terror that Lisa would realize I was wearing women's panties, and the overwhelming sexual excitement I felt right now. Part of me wanted to grab Lisa, throw her onto the bed and fuck her like an animal. But another part held back, remembered our first time, and realized that Lisa was directing this right now, that I should let her, she'd guide us.

"Have you ever been to a strip club, James?"

My mouth dried up. Hell yes, I'd been to a strip club. Hell no did I want to admit that to my girlfriend. What the hell kind of a question was that? "Um," I choked.

"You know, a guy can get a lap dance at a strip club." She was seductively moving in time to the music. I gulped. She picked up my tie off the bed, was using it to dance, wrapping it around her.

"Last year I took an erotic dance class at my gym." I had heard of that, actually. Several years ago, spinning was the women's workout rage. Last year, a bunch of trendy gyms did erotic dance as a workout routine.

"You...you did?"

"Hmmm," she looked at me seductively. "I learned a lot, no?" She was slowly moving, teasing me.

"Yyyeeaa." Fuck, this was a fucking absolutely amazing surprise!

"Do you know the only rule for the guy?"

"The rule? Nnnoo?"

She grinned. "No touching." She danced, my tie around her breasts, then her waist. I couldn't help it. The thought of not touching her only made me want to touch her even more. I reached, hands shaking for her legs while she danced, touched her thighs through her stockings.

"Baby, I said no touching the dancer. I could get in trouble." She was role playing, acting the part. Lisa took my silk tie from around her body, threw it over my head, pulled me to within inches of her breast. I could smell her perfume, moaned very quietly. "You don't want me to stop, do you?"

"No, no!"

"Put your arms behind you, lover." I did, and she pulled my head down closer to my lap, dropped the tie down my back, and quickly wrapped an end around each wrist. My arms were not tied directly together, I could move them almost to my sides, but nor further, and definitely not around to reach Lisa. I said nothing about this, as my mind silently hoped the tag of my panties wasn't' sticking out for her to see while she was doing this.

Lisa ran her hands, her fingernails up my back, lightly grabbed the hair on the back of my head and pulled me back to a sitting position. "There, I told you, no touching." I tugged at my hands, realizing that she'd actually tied them pretty securely. "Now, we need something a bit quicker."

Lisa walked back over to the stereo and flipped on another cd, this one a little more appropriate for dancing. "This is what we danced to in class, baby. I hope you enjoy your treat."

I was sure I was dead and in heaven. Lisa said I couldn't touch her, and tied, I couldn't, but that didn't mean she couldn't touch me. Dancing to the music, I don't think there was a moment during her lap dance that there was not some part of her body on mine. Whether it was her breasts in my face, her legs straddling mine, or her fingers on my chest, she was moving all over me.

At one point, going beyond what any stripper would ever do, Lisa got her tongue in on the action, licking the insides of my thighs, my stomach, my chest, all carefully avoiding the one spot I wanted to be licked and serving to drive me wild with lust.

Sucking on one of my nipples, Lisa commented on how smooth it was, I was. "Baby, your skin is sooo soft." She moved so she was sitting on my lap, facing me, straddling one of legs, her pussy resting on me. I could feel the heat, the dampness, through her. "Baby soft," she crowed, fingers massaging my chest as she started to rub herself up and down my thigh. No, not something you get with your ordinary lap dance.

"Hmmm," she panted, continuing to hump my thigh, shaking just a little. Fuck, she was having an orgasm! I though my cock was going to burst out of my panties, I wanted her to touch it so badly!

"Even your leg...legs...are so...," she paused, took a sharp breath, "so smooth, almost feminine....ohhhh James." She was shivering now as it washed over her. I was shivering too. So feminine? But for her heavy breathing she might have heard my gasp at that word, at 'feminine.'

What the fuck was she saying? Beyond the fact that it was true, why did she say that? Did she even mean it? Or what did she mean? I was in a panic! I wanted to answer her, I wanted to yell to her, "I'm not a sissy!" I wanted to answer Imelda's earlier accusation that I was a sissy! I wanted to deny it. Even though I was sitting there wearing panties, I wanted to deny it. But I didn't even know if she meant it or if it was just something that popped into her mind as she moaned into an orgasm, much as that fantasy had popped into my mind earlier...there and gone. I suspect she had no idea of the tizzy she threw my fragile psyche into. Amanda Drake would have known exactly what she'd done, but my precious Lisa had apparently stumbled on a diamond and didn't even know it.

She broke me of my rapid, panicked breathing by whispering in my ear, "I want you, James."

"Oh Lisa," I rasped, longing to be inside her again, to feel the warmth, the moistness of her welcome.

My girlfriend pushed me back onto the bed and scooted me up so I was laying flat on my back, my hands still trapped at my sides by the tie, immobile. Lisa stood and carefully removed her panties, which she'd conveniently worn over, not under her garters. I lifted my bottom up as if to help her remove my underwear, forgetting for a minute that they were panties and that the Victoria's Secret tag would give me away. Forgetting because I didn't care, I just wanted to make love to her.

But if I thought Lisa was going to climb on top of me and "ride me" I was wrong as usual.

"No, no lover, not like that." She pushed my hips back down onto the bed, crawled over me, avoiding my crotch, kissed me. "No yet. Like last time, please." Last time? She...she wanted me to...of course. Last time, when it was good for her.

"Okay?" she asked. As if I could resist her!

"Yes, yes Ma'am." Ma'am? I said Ma'am! My brain was slush! Ma'am? What the fuck?

She took it as playful joke, rather than the serious reply that it was, even if it was a faux pas, taking my face gently in her hands. "Ma'am? Oh, Jamie, I like that," she grinned, "you'll do what I want won't you?"

"Yes, yes Lisa."

She kept her grin. "I love you Jamie." A deep kiss. "Say it again, you'll do what I want?"

"Yes, baby, of course," I kissed her.

She pouted a fake pout. "No, no. Ma'am, I wanted you to say Ma'am again, it's cute."

"I'm sorry."

"You'll do what I want?"

I tried to say it in her playful tone, to hide the absolute seriousness behind the statement. "Yes, Ma'am."

"That's much better, lover." She rewarded me with another deep kiss, full of emotion, of passion, of love, of life.

She wanted something and didn't hesitate long to get it. It dawned on me that her surprise was aimed in part at this, at seducing me so I'd make love to her the way I did the last time, not the first time. I didn't care right this instant why or how, or even what or about anything. She'd done a magnificent job, even if she didn't know or understood everything she'd done. I just wanted her in any way possible.

Lisa maneuvered herself so she was straddling me, facing down my body, her hands in front of her resting on my chest, her legs alongside my head. Looking up, I could see her, smell her, as she lowered her moistness to my face, to my mouth, my mouth open, waiting for her to mount me.

I'd never given too much thought to oral sex, to worshipping a woman's pussy. I mean, I liked it, but only as a prelude to "real sex" for me. Lisa was taking it beyond that, her pussy was the goal. That was making love to her. Oh, believe me I wanted to fuck her in the worst way possible, I almost hurt I ached for her so much, but I put that outside my mind and devoted myself to her. I wondered if Amanda would be proud.

At what she'd done to me.

"Oh, fuck Jamie, you are so good at this." I think I smiled while working on my task. She toyed with my nipples, rubbing and squeezing in such a way to get me into a rhythm. Despite efforts to block out my longing for her, I couldn't help it. It was a good thing my arms were tied, or I'd be unable to resist reaching for my cock. That's how charged up I was!

So lost was I inside the moist folds of her, I didn't notice her movement right away, not until I felt something warm on my groin. Lisa had bent over into a sixty nine position, and was puffing, blowing moist warm air on my crotch through my underwear...no...panties. I wanted her to take it out, to take it into her mouth, but she was apparently content to tease, using the tease just to get me to work that much harder at pleasing her.

This went on for some time, my desperate licking of her, pleasing her. I'm not sure how many times she orgasmed. Who the fuck knows, but I knew that this was as good as if not better than the last time we did this. Finally, with a last great push, she ground herself hard onto my mouth, shook violently, explosively, breathing, moaning, till she froze, gently lifted her pussy just off my face and let a final withering orgasm wash over her.

She collapsed onto me, her pussy resting on my mouth, though I knew enough not to lick right now, she was too sensitive. I just let her lay there, smelling her, content that I'd pleased her, but on the edge of desperation for myself. I was so close to her, feeling her heavy breathing on my crotch.

After several minutes, she slightly recovered, and I felt a tingling...she was running a finger nail in circles around the tip of my cock. "Jamie," she said, "you are the most amazing lover, so soft, so tender, so...so unlike any man I've ever been with."

I didn't know what to say, so I just lightly kissed her outside of her dampness. It was strange in that she was talking in a post sex glow, while I was in a state of pre sex anxiety. I couldn't talk, I was so yearning to cum, but she just toyed and whispered.

"Did you like your surprise, darling." She was now lightly flicking my cock through the cotton. She must be staring right at it...at my panties....oh fuck!

"Yes..." I hesitated...I didn't know whether to say 'Lisa' or 'Ma'am' in response. If I was thinking rationally, I'd have called her Lisa. But at this very moment, I was thinking only with the swollen thing she was teasing.

"Yes, Ma'am." Flick! A waive of pleasure rushed through me.

She chuckled. "Sweetie, you're so cute. I love you." She flicked my cock again. "It jumps every time I flick it."

"Lisa," I moaned.

"I know, I'm not being very nice, am I. Just...just give me a few minutes lover, I'm still shaking inside. I've never felt this way about anyone before...I don't understand it."

I shuddered.

"All the guys I've dated have been so...selfish, but you are so selfless, so special."

Lisa climbed off my face, off me, spun around, lay next to me, my arm still tied, trapped between us. She moved her hand down to my crotch again, resumed her light teasing, almost absentminded, of my erection. It was enough to keep me on the edge, the very edge of orgasm, but not quite enough to push me over.

"Seriously, I don't know what it is about you that makes you so tender and thoughtful. Not just as a lover, but as a person."

I looked at her. This was a conversation lovers have after sex...but I was still before! "Lisa, I don't know, sometimes I'm not that good at expressing feelings, or even understanding what I feel, but I know I love you."

She had to have known what she was doing with her hand, what it was doing to me, that it was some kind of truth serum, keeping me on the edge like this, right? She was dominating me as surely as Amanda and Imelda did, but I'm not sure she was conscious of how or what, or even why.

"The men I dated in college, they were...I don't know...like our waiter...staring at me." My cock twitched enough that we both noticed.

"Jamie," she laughed, "what?"

"Nothing, I don't know, go on." I kissed her pussy.

"I always dated men like him, rough, you know, masculine." She seemed to be saying it. As opposed to me! I twitched again. Fuck! What the fuck! Why did was this turning me on?

"You saw him looking at me, hell, he was so obvious about it. Right in front of you." My cock was just about constantly twitching right now, jumping under her finger.

Her earlier question to me and my fantasy interpretation zipped through my mind again. "Want to take me home?"

"I saw a look in your eyes, Jamie, like that turned you on, him staring at my legs." I twitched again. She laughed. "See! It did, didn't it?"

I was too excited to lie to her, even if I wanted, and just hoped she'd quit asking me questions. "A...a little."

I knew Amanda would have bored right in on such an admission, but my sweet Lisa didn't understand yet, her power.

"I could tell. In college, if I'd met a guy like that at a bar, I might have gone home with him." Twitch! My cock jumped when she flicked it. She giggled.

"But I just wanted to get you back here, lover...I didn't want a man like that, I wanted my sweet, tender boyfriend, who makes love to me different than any man I've known."

Even with just her light caress on my cock, I was close to exploding. I held back only because she moved her hand onto my stomach, massaged my chest.

"My soft tender lover." She ran her tongue over the side of my face which had to have been covered with her juices. She had to have tasted it, even if a little, but kissed me anyway, covered as I was, still flicking my cock.

Lisa sat up on her hands and knees again, kissed her way down my neck to my chest, licking each nipple.

"You're so tender, so smooth. God, your chest is so soft. I hate guys with hairy chests, this is so much better to lick and kiss." She licked and kissed.

She was looking down my chest, stomach. "I don't want this to sound wrong, but you can be so gentle with me, and...and touching your skin, soft soft, you...you could almost be a girl. Maybe that's what I love, what's so different from any man I've been with."

I may have blacked out, I have no idea.

Lisa was down below my waist now, kneeling between my legs. "I'm sorry, I'm babbling now dear, it's the wine and your love making. I'm going to be so embarrassed in the morning." She blew softly on my cock through the panties again. "Look at you," she giggled. "I shouldn't even say this, but I don't even know if you are paying attention to me right now. I know this is fucking weird, I know, but you're so soft, even your underwear could pass for panties..." She paused. Fuck of course I was paying attention! Did she know, right now? No, no, she didn't, she was lost in thought. No.

She cupped my cock through the underwear. "Of course, I think, probably, you'd look kind of cute in panties. I'm sorry. You shouldn't let me drink so much."

I was going to yell, something, anything, even if it made no sense, just primal.

"I love you, my sweet soft Jamie," Lisa said softy, peeling what actually were my panties down just over my cock, around my balls and silently taking my cock into her mouth and sucking. It was too much, simply too much. I should have warned her what was about to happen, but I couldn't talk, there was no way I could talk. I exploded within seconds of feeling her tongue on my throbbing cock, my ears ringing, her voice, then Amanda's voice, then Imelda's voice, all mixed up, all saying the same thing inside my head as I orgasmed forcefully into my girlfriend's mouth...

"You'd look kind of cute in panties," Lisa's voice said. "You'd look kind of cute in panties," Amanda's voice said. "You'd look kind of cute in panties," Imelda's voice said. "You'd look kind of cute in panties," they all said together as I felt myself spasm, get dizzy, and literally black out from the most explosive orgasm I ever had.

"Jamie...Jamie...wake up baby." There was no more music playing. I opened my eyes, only a single candle was lit. Fuck, what time was it?

"Jamie, hon." Lisa was stroking my hair. Lisa. I remembered where I was. I looked around. Lisa had changed out of her stockings, garter belt and bra into some satin thing, a teddy, I think.

I realized I was naked. What...what happened? Oh fuck! Where...where were they? They were on before...how long ago was that? An hour? Did Lisa take them off? Did she see? The tag? The Victoria's Secret tag on the fucking cotton panties I had been wearing?

"Lisa, what..." I sounded out of it. I was out of it. Groggy, a little confused. And scared.

"I think you passed out, hon. Too much wine?" She giggled, because of course I had not had too much wine. She knew exactly what I'd had too much of! Her, as if such a thing was possible. Where the hell was my underwear?

"I'm naked," I asked, brain still fuzzy.

She laughed. "Yea, I finished undressing you when I changed."

Okay, my brain was quickly coming on-line and right into full panic mode. "Where are they," I asked, trying to not to show anything was amiss, but failing miserably, I thought.

"Shhh," she said, stroking my hair again, "your pretty panties are right over there in the corner, baby."

"What?!" I was almost shaking and said that much too loud, every nerve ending in my brain suddenly firing, jolting me awake.

"I'm kidding baby, jeeze, take a joke. Underwear, I'm sorry, I tossed your underwear over there." She pointed off the bed where they must be lying right now.

"I..." I stopped, figuring it was better to say nothing right this second.

"I'm sorry Jamie, I don't know what's gotten into me tonight. I'm not usually like this. I don't even know what made me say that before."

"Say...say what?"

"Calling them your panties. Saying that you'd probably look cute in panties."

I was terrified to even have this conversation and seriously thought about feigning sleep. "I...it's okay, Lisa, it's not like you meant anything mean by it."

"Not that..." In the dim candle light I could see her frown, hesitate. Not that she meant anything by it, right? "I really do love you, Jamie." She put her head on my shoulder, squeezed me.

"What's wrong Lisa?"

"Nothing, nothing's wrong. It's just the opposite, everything is so right." She kissed my neck. "It's never felt so right to me before."

I couldn't let it go, not after how fucked up things felt to me right now. I should let it go, but the statement continued to dance around my brain. If nothing else, in a post orgasmic bliss, even after dozing off, I was naturally talkative, so despite my misgivings about this conversation, I said it.

"What did you mean by panties, then? That's a weird thing to say to a guy." More than she knew. "It...it questions a guy's, well, manhood." I looked at her. "I don't know," I joked to cover my nervousness, "you tell me you love me but question my manhood." I forced a smile, thinking I had to strike just the right tone between teasing, playfulness, and seriousness. Too serious and she might get mad. Too playful and she might not answer.

I could tell the way she continued to hold on to me that I'd not struck too serious a tone. Her response would tell me if I had been too joking. "That's just it Jamie, I suppose that's why I'm falling for you. Not that you aren't masculine, but that you, I don't know, you're so kind to me, so aware of my feelings, so in touch with your own feelings."

I had to say it, and the joking tone was my real tone now, it was too natural a response to be anything else. "You mean I'm in touch with my feminine side."

She laughed, to my relief. "Thank you Mr. Pop Psychology, but yes that's exactly what I mean."

"Great, my girlfriend loves me because I'm feminine."

That took it just a tad too far. Her arms loosened on my just a little. "Jamie, that's not exactly what I mean."

"Well, what do you mean?" I challenged.

She frowned. "Okay, I can play pop psychologist too. You've heard the saying that every girl looks for a little bit of her father in her lover? I think what that means is that for many women, an ideal man has to have some characteristics of her father."


"No, you perv," she playfully slapped my chest, "It has nothing to do with attraction to dad, it's just that was her role model. I think it's especially true for women who had a good relationship with their dads. If a woman had a good relationship with her father, looked up to her father, how can she not look for some of those characteristics in a man?"

"Okay, I suppose I agree to an extent. What about a man and his mother?"

"Hell, Jamie, I'm a girl, how do I know, but I suspect there has to be some of the same correlations, no? I mean, a normal guy would not be attracted to his mother, but growing up with her as the female in his life, he's bound to be attracted to a woman that has some of the same characteristics. Wouldn't you agree?"

I thought about it for a second. Not with my life, just in general, the people I knew. "Yea, I suppose. But what's that got to do with you?"

"The mother...a little, the father more." She had absentmindedly moved her hand from my chest to my stomach, just out of reach of my soft cock. "I love my dad. Hell, I love my mom, but you asked about dads and men."

Well, actually she started this. I was asking about panties, not that I could explain I was asking because my fucking boss, with whom I was infatuated, made me wear panties. That was too weird.

"My dad, god love him, is not a beer guzzling, fishing and hunting, sports loving man. If I was to describe my dad, it would be quiet, thoughtful, loving, supportive, a great family man. He'd do anything for my mom and me. Not that he didn't watch baseball, or drink, or have his buddies, it's just that he was the quiet one, not one to boast."

"Okay. I don't hunt or fish and I'm kind of quiet."

"Yea, but, well...okay forget about my dad for a second. In high school and for a couple of years in college, I dated guys about as different from my dad as you could get. Frat boys, loud, I don't know how to explain it, but...my rebellion...I didn't get a tattoo," she moved her arm over her body, "pierce anything or flunk out of school. I rebelled by dating."

"How is that rebelling, Lisa?"

"My mom ran our house. I mean, she did the bills, she did the shopping, she bought his clothes, she made all the important decisions for both of them. Dad worked, supported us financially and emotionally. It was all great, but, I suppose to be crude, my mom wore the figurative pants in the family."

"Nothing wrong with that," I said.

"No, not at all. But looking back, I know the way I rebelled was to bring home guys that would never let their girl run anything. Hell, the worse a guy treated me, the more I was attracted to him. I don't know why I rebelled like that, who knows, but at the time, I liked shocking my parents. I liked a bad boy who would pull up to the house and honk his horn. I liked guys that tugged me around, instead of what happened in my house. That was my rebellion."

"But?" She sounded like there was a change.

"But by my junior year of college, I was tired of it. I think I figured out that a guy treating me like shit really sucked. It was draining on my self esteem, I was drinking too much, and I wasn't happy. I blamed men, didn't take a serious look at the kind of man I was dating. It wasn't men that were the problem, not all men, just the jerks I was with."

"Why do girls go out with guys like that?"

"I don't know Jamie, but it soured me on dating. I mean, my parents loved each other, my mom may have worn the pants in the family, but she never looked down on my dad the way guys were looking down on me."

"So you...?"

"Basically stopped dating."

"Until me," I asked, surprised a beautiful girl like her would actually be without a boyfriend for more than ten minutes.

"Yes, until I met you." Her hand moved from my stomach to my cock, causing me to gasp ever so slightly.

"But how am I different?" She cupped my entire cock and balls into her hand and was massaging.

"Like I said, Jamie, you are everything every guy I dated was not. Kind, considerate, sweet. You put me on a pedestal, like my dad does to my mom. So..." she looked embarrassed.


"So, well, to make this long story short, I just thought it was like I was 'wearing the pants' in our relationship."

"You think so," I tried to sound shocked.

"Jamie, don't take that wrong. I think that's why I've fallen for you; that's why I think you're so special." She kissed me, squeezed me tighter with her hand. I wasn't erect, still soft, but I could feel blood moving around me. "So, I just kind of spoke without thinking, you know, pop psychology. If I'm wearing the pants, you must be wearing the panties, right?" I felt my self rearranging in her hand, growing, very slowly, but growing.

"I...I do love you Lisa, I do feel like you belong on a pedestal."

"I know Jamie, and I love you too, I really do, you're so special to me, so just keep 'wearing the panties' for me." My cock jumped again, very noticeably in her hand. "See sweetie," she said between kisses, making me grow, "part of you likes that, doesn't it? Part of you likes to be the one wearing the panties, don't you. You like a girl taking charge."

"Yes," I croaked. I knew at this moment the striking difference between Amanda, my boss, the strict woman, and Lisa, my girlfriend, the young woman seducing me right now. Amanda knew exactly what she was doing to me. I don't know why she was doing it, but she knew exactly what was going on, and had some fucked up agenda of her own.

Lisa, my loving girlfriend, had no idea the true impact of her words. She was a young bird spreading her wings, my young love, connecting with me, loving me.

Amanda was a cruel dominant bitch, even if I couldn't get her out of my mind.

Lisa was a loving, assertive young woman.

I was shaking as Lisa climbed on top of me, still kissing me, grinding her pelvis on me, the crotch of her teddy pushed aside so she could seek out my hardness.

"Oh, Jamie," she moaned as she mounted me. I didn't enter her so much as she enveloped me. I shook, a wave of pleasure cascading my skin.

It really hit me then. Was Amanda once like Lisa? Were they more alike than I realized. I...I couldn't serve two women...this...this was so bad, so wrong. I was wearing the panties for two women, not counting Imelda.

Where did the lines cross? Who controlled me? I didn't want to lose Lisa!

I was literally wearing the panties for Amanda, my dominant boss.

I was figuratively wearing the panties for Lisa, my loving girlfriend.

This was...I felt the wave swiftly moving from my chest to my groin and involuntarily thrust upward, as the tide rushed, uncontrollable, unstoppable.

And I realized Lisa was moaning too! She was shaking, the tidal wave rushing not just over me, but over her too! We actually came together, locked as one, minds and souls connected as one, her orgasm matching my orgasm, her heart racing with my heart.

Lisa kissed me, long and hard again and again. And as we drifted off to sleep, Lisa holding me in her arms, all I could think about was how much I loved her, and how dangerous my life had become.