What Do You Want Me to Do?

Dear Ted,

I hope you're having a nice weekend with Wendy.

No ... I don't, really. I just said that to sound nice. But I'm not feeling nice. So why should I try.

Honestly, I don't know what more you want from me.

If you wanted to end the whole thing because you thought it was wrong or because it threatened your sense of masculinity, at least I'd understand that.

But you keep coming back. You want what I give you—what

only

give you.

Oh, sure, Wendy lets you have sex with her—when she damn well feels like it! And "lets" is as good as it gets.

Does she crave your cock? Does she make you feel like she's

got

to feel it in her mouth? In her cunt? In her ass? Does she beg for it? No. She doesn't. If you're really good and she happens to be in a good mood, she'll deign to let you have sex with her ...

if

you do it the way that pleases her.

Do you fuck her? I mean, do you fuck her brains out, make her eyes roll up into her skull from the sheer power of you pounding into her wet and hungry body?

No. ... You know it, and so do I. No. You need to kiss her gently and put in your bid for intimacy. Maybe she picks up on it. Maybe not. Oh, I don't mean maybe she gets what you're doing and maybe not. No! She knows what you're asking when you do this. But it's up to her to just ignore if she wants, as if she didn't know what you wanted.

And if she responds? What then? Does she tear into your clothes to satisfy her lust to take your hard cock in her mouth? Ha! No! Maybe she'll let you caress her and gently take off her clothes. Maybe she'll let you start and then stop you and the passion you were trying for would be stillborn.

But maybe she'll let you go on. Maybe she'll let you undress her completely. I know you like her body. You like her toned ass and abdomen and her kind of large firm breasts with nipples that stand erect when she's excited.

I get it. You are turned on by her body. But she's a bitch—a cold bitch. If she lets things progress, it's

you

who has to cater to

her

wishes, you have to caress her gently, kiss her nipples, work your way down to her twat and kiss and lick her until she warms up above frigid.

If you do your job well—and if she happens to be in the right mood, or feeling generous—she'll let you enter her. Not her mouth. She hasn't done that for years. And certainly not her ass. Heaven forbid!

No. ... She'll tell you she wants to feel you inside of her. Now, you scramble to get your clothes off before she changes her mind. She lies on her back and spreads her legs for you, acting like she's some spectacular treat to relish and you are lucky that she even lets you touch her.

And, then, she lies there and lets you have sex with her. I won't call it 'fucking'. It's not much more than masturbating with a sex toy. No action on her part, right? She's being so wonderful just to let you enter her.

And then, when you cum in her, she acts like she's given you such a wonderful gift. She just let you "make love" (that's how she thinks of it, I guess) to her gorgeous body. You lucky guy!

Does she make you clean up after yourself? Do you need to get a warm rag to clean up the little twat that you messed up? Does she make you clean her with your tongue? Probably not! That would at least show an interesting kinky streak. No, she's as plain vanilla as you can get. And just as boring.

Oh, and I get it that when we started, I wasn't all that great. What do you want? It was the first time I'd ever touched another man's cock. It was the first man's cock, other than my own, that I'd wanted to touch. I was awkward. Shit, I was scared stiff. I didn't know if you'd be freaked out. I didn't know if you'd reject me. I didn't know if you'd feel you had to beat the crap out of me just to re-enforce your sense of masculinity.

Somehow I got past that fear. I reached over when we were both watching that porn film and put my hand on your crotch, feeling your erection straining against the tightness of your pants. My heart was pounding and my face was flushed crimson. But I overcame my fear. My lust was stronger.

And even that first time, awkward and halting as I was, you know it was better than any time you've been with Wendy.

When I was sure you weren't going to kill me—when I saw that you weren't even going to push my hand away—I began stroking your cock. You could feel my desire—but I think only a small reflection of it. I wanted your cock more than I could convey. I needed it.

You let me undo your pants. Your cock sprang forth, freed from its confinement. When I held it in my hand for the first time, I felt a desire—a craving—I'd never experienced before. I wanted your cock in my mouth so much it was almost painful.

Nevertheless, not wanting to spook you, I took my time. I stroked your cock forcefully, trying to get you to a place where you wouldn't even think of stopping me from what I yearned to do. I knew you weren't a homophobe, but I worried that you might get weirded out. I wanted you so heated up that you wouldn't consider pushing me away. I could tell that I was getting you there. You were in a frenzy, but it paled in comparison to mine.

When I moved down to take you in my mouth, when my lips finally found their home around your hard shaft, I heard you moan loudly, expressing both of our feelings. I went at your cock like a mad man—like a starving man goes at food.

I was pumping your sweet, stiff rod with my hand and sucking on the head of your cock eagerly. Perhaps I should have drawn this out. Perhaps first times should be savored and extended. Fat chance of that! I wanted your cock to explode in my mouth, filling it with your salty, creamy load. I had no time to lose. I was driven by a powerful thirst.

And you were wildly excited. I know that. I could tell that first time, even with the inevitable uneasiness that accompanies first times, that you'd never been brought to such an ecstatic high. Certainly, Wendy has never made you feel that good.

And, Ted, since then, what have I done. Everything! Everything I could think of to please you even more—more than anyone's pleased anyone, I hoped.

You didn't have to push me to take you in my ass. Do you remember? I'd been sucking you off every chance I got for over a month. Then, that wonderful night when Wendy was out of town visiting her parents and you could stay the whole night, I made my move.

Before you came over, I got ready. I gave myself an enema so I'd be completely clean for you. After a few drinks and some playing around, we got down to my favorite activity, sucking your hard cock. I was on my knees and you were standing in front of the full-length mirror so you could watch me service you. I was watching, too. We both found our excitement multiplied by watching me in a subservient, cock-sucking mode.

When I stopped, you were disappointed. But when, still on my knees, I looked up at your and pleaded with you to take by virgin ass. You nodded that you would. I scrambled to get my clothes off and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you toward me.

I began sucking you again, just to top you off a bit. Then I carefully unrolled a condom on your beautiful, hard cock. It felt really strange, and extremely exciting, to be putting a condom on another man's cock.

I positioned myself on the edge of the bed on my hands and knees, inviting you to take my ass. You got behind me, grabbed my hips, and lined your cock up with my hungry asshole. You were gentle, Ted, at first. I appreciated that. Though I'd done plenty of ass play, much of it in the last month, thinking about this moment, it's still different when a real cock enters you for the first time. So, thank you for being gentle, at first.

And, thank you more for not being gentle the whole time you were breaking in my ass. You quickly became immersed in what you were doing and were soon holding my hips tightly and pounding my ass with abandon. For my part, I was meeting your thrusts with my own, causing your hips to slam my ass with every stroke.

I didn't have a prostate orgasm then. Those came later. But I swear that I had something like an orgasm, just without any spurting from me, when you made your final thrusts and shot your wad in my ass. My anus was spasming around your softening shaft as I caught my breath and my pulse returned to double digits.

You collapsed on me and I collapsed onto the bed. We lay there for what seemed like a long time, a sweaty and satiated mass of intertwined flesh.

You remember that, right? Ted? You remember how I made you feel then. How I make you feel every time I have a chance to take you in my mouth or in my ass. You remember that, don't you?

And you know what else I did. You know. I know you're not attracted to men. I get that. And that's okay with me. That's why I shaved off all my body hair and keep my body soft and smooth.

I don't mind that I've feminized myself for your pleasure. I like it. But it's not that I care about being a sissy for its own sake. I don't. I'm comfortable sucking your cock no matter how I look or am dressed. But if you want the person who's sucking your cock to be feminine, then I want to be feminine.

When you suggested that I wear panties and a bra, I did that ... happily! I scoured the Internet for silky, sensuous bras and panties, for teddies and nighties. Hell, I learned more names for women's lingerie than any woman knows. Ask me the difference between a babydoll, a bodice, and a bustier. I know. I have garters and stockings, thigh-highs and pantyhose (some crotchless).

And you didn't have to suggest that I do all of this. When I knew you wanted me to look more feminine, I made it a mission.

You like my wigs, too. I might not be a girl, but I can do a great simulation of lots of kinds of girls. You want a bleached blonde floozie? I can do that. It was my first wig. You like redheads? How about a cute little pixie style redhead? You like that wig, too. Dirty blonde pigtails. Covered! You like to hold them when you're controlling my mouth on your cock. You want a sultry, long-haired brunette. You got it. Whatever you want.

You remember when I surprised you with the breast inserts. You've always liked those. They're so realistic, both the feel and the shape, complete with nice, pencil-eraser-like nipples. You love it when I wear those with a demi-cup bra under a sheer shirt or a tight t-shirt.

And, what about when I stunned you by showing up with a sweet little pink chastity locked on my cock. And I gave you the key to my caged cock. You remember that night! Never had anyone made such a sign of submission—such a show of being an eager sex slave, intent on maximizing your pleasure by any means.

Think about all of that. Think about the times we've gotten stoned off our gourds and I was completely femmed out for your pleasure. Remember how I've begged for your cock. I crave it in a way that excites you and I'm happy to show you that. I'm eager to sink to my knees to take you in my mouth and suck you for hours, or furiously for just moments, making your spurt your load in my mouth—whatever suits your mood.

And if you want to pull out and paint my face with your huge white load, that's wonderful. I love the feeling of the hot, slick cream splashing against my cheeks, my lips, my throat, and my chest. I like wiping it up with my finger and making a show of licking it off and swallowing it lovingly.

It's not an act. It's not something I do only for your pleasure—though I would do that. But it's not just for

your

pleasure. I need to feel your cock in my mouth. I love the feel of you filling my mouth with your cum. When we're apart, I fantasize about the feel, the smell, the taste of your cum.

I'm often torn, though. I want to feel your cock in my ass as much as I want to feel it fill my mouth. So, whichever hole you are pleasing, one is being ignored and yearning to be filled. The only solution would be to duplicate you. I don't want two cocks in me at the same time unless they're both yours. I don't crave cock; I crave

your

cock.

You love what you feel with me. You've never had it so good. Think about that.

Now think about Wendy, who might permit you to have vanilla sex with her,

if

she's in the mood, and you're a good boy. And if you're lucky, she'll lie there like a limp fish and allow you to pleasure yourself in her body. And then she'll make you feel like you need to thank her for letting you touch her.

Me.

Wendy.

How can you stay with her? How can you leave our bed to go to hers? How can your relationship with her be the one that's public, while ours is concealed? How can you be proud of yourself for flaunting a relationship where you're so subservient and hiding the relationship where your power, your sensuality, your sexiness is celebrated and honored?

Think about what you want, about who makes you feel powerful, who makes you happy. Think about who you want to be with. Now think about who you

are

with right now. And ask yourself "Why?"

So, I know you're not having a nice weekend with Wendy. Not a

really

nice weekend. Not the kind of weekend you would be having if you were here with me. So why are you there?

Love and Lust,

Charlene (Charlie)