A bus ride

The most important thing

I’ve been asked many, many times by followers to my blog what makes a FemDom Hotwife Cuckold relationship work, what the most important thing to do is, how they should approach it, what they should do first, etc.
This type of relationship is complex, there are so many ingrained societal traditions that must be challenged and rethought, and the emotional and psychological impact on a man is huge. And certainly different women approach it differently with different ideas and goals in mind. But there is one thing that she needs to do immediately. She has to lock up his penis. She has to take control and make her authority clear. She has to break his masturbation habit.

(found here)

Only blindfold and lipstick?

Why was it?

Life on board

I'm for free!

Walk down High Street

Lee's voyage

A duty

Under the mediterranean sun

Learning from Stella

Party crashers

Sometimes I get so horny that I think I must die

Ok, I stole this phrase. I read it a long time ago somewhere. But it comes close to how I am feeling right now.
My girlfriend has gone to bed early. Alone. She has eluded me for more than a week now. I don't think it's planned, it's just how she is. Our day-to-day life has not helped either, both have we been busy, with practically no time for being alone with each other. So I am left drying out. I've failed a couple of times my vow in the beginning of the week. But I won't fail anymore, I swear, before I get laid with her again. I must be strong or the whole thing becomes meaningless and I am reduced again to the sad internet-wanker I was.
Seduction, Friedo, seduction... Think! Make an effort! You didn't make a real effort last week, you have to admit it...
Tomorrow is another day!

Job interview

After a suggestion of summertime.

Childhood sweethearts

Bruno Schulz

This post is probably only of interest for a minority of our minority.

Bruno Schulz was a writer and artist of polish-jewish origin, and unlike Otto Schatz to whom I referred a couple of weeks ago, he did not survive the Holocaust. His stories, some of which you can read here, are perhaps even better than his drawings. The universe of his drawings reminds of Sardax, but I find Schulz' crude drawings much more haunting and authentic than Sardax' slick perfection. But, actually, I can't really say I like his drawings. They are so sad. The bad qualitiy of the little what has come upon us, drafts or poor photographic reproductions of etchings, makes it even worse. But I can't forget them. They scare me. Bruno Schulz scares me. He represents all that what could have become of me if I had lived in another time and culture. This little man, even before he fell victim to the Holocaust, led a sad and very insignificant life, consistent with his personality. Very timid, in his youth he was sent to Vienna to study architecture but failed for reasons impossible to reconstruct today. Since then he never more left his provincial hometown. He remained poor and lonely all his life, worked as a drawing teacher in a secondary school what he hated, and most certainly died a virgin.

Before the show

Making my point

He is taking the picture. He is in control. She is on her knees, taking him from behind, submissive. Look how proud she is! She's collaborating for the photo. Look how good she feels! Who would you prefer to be?

Changes

Good material

First date

Boobs

Her name was Caroline. For obvious reasons I wont say her surname, though I still remember it. But it was somewhat similar to what we made of it. We called her Caroline Boobs. It was the time when we boys at school discovered wanking: some did it already, and who did not yet, pretended that he did and tried, with the help of information gathered in schoolyard talks to catch up on the new status relevant ability. The girls were changing too. Their clothing became more womanly. Some used a bit make-up now. And in a few cases one could notice their little titties sprout. Still almost all were practically flat. Except Caroline. At eleven she had already developed a beautiful pair of round boobs, which made her stand out - literally - among all her classmates. Half a year later, her boobs were so big that they caught everybody's attention, in any situation. It did not matter if there were other girls of her age for comparison, or if she were among older ones, even adults. Her boobs had become her distinctive feature.

She didn't like it. You could see that. It embarrassed her. She tried to hide them in loose cardigans and sloppy pullovers, but there was no effective way to hide them. Caroline was not plain, but also not especially pretty. If she had been some kind of beauty queen or sex bomb, it might have made it easier for her. But she was just a normal twelve year old girl with big, big boobs.

I have no first hand knowledge of how her female classmates reacted to it, but we boys made cruel jokes about "them". Even more so as I certainly wasn't the only who, despite of my scorning, was profoundly fascinated by them and dedicated his wankings to them and her. I may have been the only though who did it in a different way. I dreamt of being her. Having her boobs, including, especially including, the attention, the embarrassment and the humiliation that came with it.

I imagined being her and going with her mother to the local lingerie shop to by bras. There was no mall in our small town. Just one lingerie shop who's owner everybody knew as the mother of a buddy of ours. So it was with some realistic touch when I imagined Mrs. Delmond and Caroline's mother discuss the size of the bra necessary, the model, the type of support it had to supply and what would be the right one for every occasion. I was sure Caroline felt profoundly ashamed while hearing these conversations, of being ordered to try this one on and that one, being admonished not to slouch but to stand erect for her back's sake, even if it made "them" stick out even more so, and to show how it looked and worked or not... I knew I would be ashamed! And that turned me on beyond belief!

I imagined her in the girls' locker room, while changing, taking shower, being naked among the other girls. He difference on display, defenseless. I imagined the other girls asking her questions, giggle, comment...

And once I watched her entire 90 minutes, when we had outdoor sports together. Not exactly together. We had sports seperately, boys and girls, each with our respective teacher, male one female the other, but at the same time. In the summer it was at the facilities of the local football club, a field, a track, some barracks being the changing rooms and showers. That day my teacher must have been very unhappy with me, because I did not pay attention at all. I could not keep my eyes off her. She ran! That was something she usually avoided. Here she couldn't. So despite her sensible sports-bra, her boobs just swayed and jiggled that it was a delight! Was I the only one who got a hard-on? I doubt it, but I didn't pay attention to anyone else. I did excuse myself: I had to go to the loo. I remember how I was dividing my time in there with doing desperate pull-ups at the window sill to catch a glance at her, and my fervent wanking down on the tiled floor. Oh Caroline!

She left our school and town two years later. I never made a serious pass at her. My stupid need to maintain my prestige among my peers prevented that. I am so sorry for that! I would have loved to be the first to tell her and to make her feel that her boobs were fantastic and nothing to be ashamed of, much on the contrary!

But I am sure in the meantime she found someone who did.

Rubbing

Fear is just in your head

Listen to the lyrics! They are advice. The best you'll ever get.



Fill your heart with love today
Don't play the game of time
Things that happened in the past
Only happened in your Mind
Only in your Mind, ah forget your Mind
And you'll be free-yeah
The writing's n the wall
Free-yeah And you can know it all
If you choose. Just remember
Lovers never lose
'Cause they are Free of thoughts unpure
And of thoughts unkind
Gentleness clears the soul
Love cleans the mind
And makes it Free
Free

Oh happiness is happening
Dragons have been bled
Gentleness is everywhere
Fear's just in your Head
Only in your Head
Fear is in your Head
Only in your Head
So Forget your Head
And you'll be free
The writing's on the wall
Free-yeah, And you can know it all
If you choose. Just remember
Lovers never lose
'Cause they are free of thoughts unpure
And of thoughts unkind
Gentleness clears the soul
Love will clean your the mind
And make you Free!!


(Music and lyrics by Biff Rose)

Waking up to reality

Learn to give

Update on my chastity project

Probably no one want's to know. But self-indulgence is the very nature of what we all are doing here, so I decided to update you anyway on how it is going with my self imposed, limited chastity project.

I managed to keep chaste for almost seven days, then I got lucky again with my girlfriend on Friday night. And it was really great, this time. We had some foreplay, a nice seduction, but then it was a real masculine, selfish fuck, and a great come, the greatest since a long time in a girl. I was not wanking in her, as Jamie once so well put it to describe when you fantasize while fucking your partner and what's getting you off is your fantasy. I was using her, but I was using her! And she knew it and it turned her extra on. Being used. And that again turned me on more. That's how it's supposed to be, isn't it?

Was there a stupid moral reasoning of mine underneath, that made me feel that my chaste waiting for her had earned me the right to fuck her so selfishly? Maybe. Whatever.

Well, that's already three days ago. In the meantime I have failed my vow three times. Twice on Saturday morning, with little conscience problems, my reasoning being that no harm came from it for my chastity project, because the purpose I am doing it for is to save my hornyness for her, and wanking so closely after our fucking would make little difference to that effect.
And the third time a day later. For that I have no excuse, except that making the caption slight dysfunction got to me too much. I even was able to channel my energy and keep the vow while I was making it, but the following days I continued imagining being that girl on the bike. And that made me so horny, more, so in love with her that I simply couldn't help it! It's still an enormous effort for me not to relapse with her again. But I am trying seriously, because I believe in my project and in the good it is doing to both of us, my girlfriend and myself.

A new start

With thanks to andii for the picture.

Transparent

Thanks to mother!

Slight dysfunction (reload)

For some unfathomable reason, my blog has been down for almost all day. I hope you missed it! ;) 

Can't you see?

Five days

and counting...

I know you

Franklin Veaux

I really admire this guy! He's doing actually the things most of which I have not the guts to do. And he shows how you can do it and be an entirely sane, decent and respectful person. I have for long been of the opinion that it is possible, but he intelligently explains and demonstrates it.
Just read this, for example. Oh how I would love to be his girl! - OK, one of them.

Durban

Are you sure?

First time

Teenie life

I read this nice little story at Titillating TG Captions, and it remembered me of last time I visited my sister.

We live quite far away from each other. But between Christmas and New Years Eve, I - well we: my girlfriend, our kids and myself - use to spend a couple of days at her home.
I get along very well with her and her husband. They have an open house, the atmosphere is very friendly and relaxed, and there are almost always guests, friends of our generation or, mor often even, friends of their children. They have two pretty daughters, age 19 and 17.
Last time we met a good friend of Anna's, the younger one's. Daniel, a classmate. He's openly gay, and he needs not tell anybody, you can see it. He's quite a fag, really. A cute little fag. They were sitting at the large dining table and going through Vogue magazine. Later we all had dinner together, and then the boy left.
I asked Anna how Daniel is being treated at school, and she answered it's quite OK. No problem with the teachers at all, and as to the classmates, sure there were idiots, but in general he doesn't suffer too much bullying. If he looked a bit down today, it was because of an unresponded crush on a boy. That was why he'd come over, to talk about it. Anna is his confident, a good friend, at who's shoulder he can cry. Typical teenie life, isn't it? I asked if that's what they do together, reading fashion magazines, and Anna, who's very much into fashion, said yes, that and discussing the boys. Who's cute, who's not, and so on. He's really a little girl, Anna said.

You can see why I feel so comfortable at my sister's, though it would be very unjust to say it's only, or even mainly because of this: how these things can happen so naturally in her house. And it's not that she doesn't care, the good thing is: she does! What she doesn't is being bothered by it.

What has that to do with the aforementioned story?
Well, I didn't ask, but I can imagine, I even consider it likely that - not in the living room, that would probably go too far, if not for my sister, for my brother-in-law - but in her room she and her sister dress him up. Let him use their wardrobe, perhaps even their underwear. I find this thought very endearing.

I would have liked to do what Daniel does, when I was his age. But I didn't. It's a pity. Of course it's much easier today. I envy him, because he's young and I'm sure he does look good in lingerie and stockings. I did too, when I was his age. But I had to do it almost always in the closet. (Had to?!) And now: I don't think that I look good in it anymore. Unlike Daniel, my nieces would consider me a sorry figure, if they saw me like that.
Anyway, I'm glad for Daniel. And I find it very encouraging that this is happening in Germany 2010, and without anybody making a fuss about it.