Sissy Odds And Ends free porn video

SISSY ODDS AND ENDS by Throne "Sissy inspection," my wife Anna called from the living room. I was in the middle of dusting but I knew better than to delay. I set my oversized feather duster carefully aside, in a spot where I was permitted to leave it, and hurried to meet her. In my two inch heels I made good time, having had lots of practice. As always, I took small steps, placing one foot in front of the other, which made my narrow hips wiggle. That was how she had taught me to walk. As I entered the room she eyed me with amusement. I had on a frilly maid's cap, a tiny lace apron that barely covered my genitals and which was tied in the back with a big bow, as well as elastic-topped tan stockings. I'm allowed to keep my hair short because of my office job, but on the weekends she makes me comb it forward in the front, which creates a girly look. My only make-up was mascara to thicken my blond lashes and tinted lip gloss, flavored and colored apricot. I stood in front of her with my hands passively at my sides. Anna was fully dressed, which made me feel all the more UNdressed. She had on a snug sleeveless top and tight Capri pants, both of which showed off her lush contours. Her full lips curved into a wicked smile as she stepped close to me and said, "You look very pretty, Regina." My real name is Reggie but she loves to use the feminine version that she has decided on, producing it with a hard letter i. She lightly touched my bare shoulder and then let her fingers trail down over the middle of my hairless chest. My entire body is kept free of hair through the use of powerful depilatories. Sometimes I can go for two weeks without having to apply any of those creams, because I've been using them for two years. Anna took the bottom of my little apron between her thumb and forefinger and delicately raised it. When she saw my chastity tube, which tightly contains my penis, she acted surprised. "Oh. You still have that on? I thought I had let you out of it. Gosh, how long have you locked up?" Even though she knew the answer I told her, trying not to become emotional, "It's been four weeks." "A month? Really? I'll have to see if I can find the key and give you some free time. It must be sooooo frustrating to be in that nasty device, not able to even get a hard-on. I mean, you can't, can you?" Again, she new the answer but, again, I replied. "No, Ma'am. I can't get an erection while I'm tubed." She gave me a skeptical look and her hands came up to my chest. The tips of her fingers barely brushed my nipples but I'm extraordinarily sensitive there. I gasped and pulled my shoulders back slightly, thrusting my chest forward without meaning to. She chuckled softly and continued teasing, rubbing the receptive bits of flesh harder while I writhed and moaned. Anna brought her lips close to my ear and whispered, "Poor sissy husband gets so excited and can't do anything about it. Poor baby." She kept that up until I felt ready to beg for escape from my penis prison. At exactly the right instant she stopped, leaving me standing there, breathing hard, chin up, mouth slightly opened, my tongue on my lower lip. As Anna took two steps back I realized what a sight I made and tried to compose myself. She smiled tenderly and told me, "I'm sorry but I just can't resist playing with you. You don't mind, do you?" The last time that I forgot myself and spoke honestly, it had cost me a prolonged paddling, so I told her, "I don't mind at all. Please play with me all you want." She responded, "I would LOVE to keep doing that, except that I have to get ready for my date with Brad." I bit my lips and lowered my gaze, not wanting my jealousy to show. She put her mouth a few inches from mine and made an air kiss. Then she said, "And I thought of a really fun situation to put you in for when he gets here. You know, something to give him a laugh." As broken as my resistance is I could only nod and say, "Yes, dear." She let me return to my dusting while she got ready to go out, knowing that I wouldn't be able to stop thinking about what she might have in mind for my 'presentation'. Her lover Brad is a tall bruiser with a short temper. He thinks of me as a non-threatening joke but, even so, I'm constantly afraid that he might slap me hard or even throw a punch. If he feints, I flinch. Anna delights in seeing that, so he does it often. She always says that my reaction proves what a total sissy I am. I certainly can't argue with that. After she got dressed and made-up she returned to get my opinion. As always on date nights, she looked sexily irresistible. My trapped penis tried again to get stiff, making my balls throb in sympathy. Anna struck several naughty poses to show off her tight, electric blue dress and stripper heels. Once I was sufficiently flustered from looking at her, she took me by the hand and led me down the hall. My eyes never left her rolling backside. When we reached the door to my room, she paused and said, "Now I'll get you all ready for Brad. You're going to be SUCH a hit." She went to my white and pink dresser and took something out. I tensed, not able to see what she was holding against her body. My eyes darted around the room, taking in just how girly she had made it. The curtains were frilly and the bed was a four-poster with a pale peach bedspread and matching dust ruffle, the walls were covered with posters more appropriate for a girl in her early teens, and there were stuffed toys on display all over. So how awful would whatever my wife had selected be? I was surprised when it turned out to be a pair of pajamas. Not a lace teddy or baby doll nightie, but simple shorty pajamas in pastel peach. She had me strip naked and stand there for a moment, showing off my chastity and my hairless body, while she likened my skin to satiny smooth, pink-white rose petals. I blushed. She held out the sleepwear to me and I accepted it. As I put on the bottoms I noticed that they were loose and fit sort of like gym shorts. The top was also comfortably cut, though it left my midriff bare. I'm slender but not muscular, and very self- conscious about my unmanly physique. Anna told me to go to the closet and get my sparkly slippers, a pair that had been decorated with sequins and similar light-catching bits of stuff. She gathered my hair at the sides of my head and used tiny, brightly colored rubber bands to create two miniature pony tails, little sprays that, along with my combed-forward hair in the front, gave me a distinctly frivolous appearance. My wife opened the closet door so I could view myself in the full-length mirror that hung on the other side. I gasped. She had me resembling a silly school girl. It was worse than if she had made me appear totally feminine. What she had done made it plain that I was a man dressed for maximum sissyness. I cringed at what she had done but -- again -- didn't protest. Instead I turned to her, simpered, and put my hands on the sides of my face, saying, "Thank you, Miss Anna. Regina (Reg-eye-na) is happy, happy, happy that you made her so so pretty." She got a thrill out of hearing me demean myself with such inane speech, and if I did it without prompting I earned extra approval. It humiliated me to use that voice, but I wanted to avoid having her add any further touches to my already shameful appearance. Or urging Brad to contribute his own creative cruelty. I just wanted to have them leave and let me get busy with whatever chores she was going to give me. In case she didn't think I was surrendering fully enough, I hugged myself, wagged my hips side to side, wet my lips with the tip of my tongue, and giggled mindlessly. She grinned in approval. "Now get on the bed," she instructed me cheerfully. "Lie on your tummy, Regina, and hold that heart-shaped throw pillow under your chin. When I was posed as she wanted, she told me to stay like that -- JUST like that - - while she went to wait for Brad. Too intimidated to move, I remained exactly as I was. In time I heard the front door open and the lovers' voices talking happily, which was followed by the sounds of them approaching. I shivered at the thought of him seeing me like that, even though he had seen me in some pretty shameful outfits and poses already. They entered the room and his first reaction was a hearty laugh. Brad is a total alpha male and gets excited by being dominant over me. He got a good look and told my wife, "Regina looks like a cheerleader I dated years ago. Or looks like she's trying to look like that." They paused to embrace and kiss unhurriedly. It was torment for me but what could I do? Then he leaned over and smacked me hard on the bottom. I yelped and had to fight back tears of pain and humiliation. "So, listen, Regina," he said, his voice enviably deep. "We're going out to have some fun. Not sure how long we'll be because I don't know if we're going to screw in my van or wait until we get back here to use the master bedroom. Either way, I want you to spend the next several hours thinking about us doing it. Me touching her and her going down on me. That kind of stuff. Imagine her begging for more and me telling her what a fantastic lay she is. I want you to see it and hear it in your mind. Can you do that for me, sissy wimp?" I sniffled and assured him I could and would. He was pleased and told me I could lay on my back while they were gone. "And hey, you can play with your little dick if you want to." He let those words hang in the air for a moment before he amended himself with, "Oh, wait, you can't. I forgot. We put you into that chastity tube. Didn't we?" I responded tearfully, "Y... yes, Sir. You did. So I can't... play with myself. With my... little d... dicky." He really enjoyed hearing me demean myself that way. As they headed out the bedroom door he said, "Maybe we'll unlock you after we get back." He asked Anna, "You have the key, don't you, Honey?" She told him, "No, Babe. I thought YOU had it." They shared a hearty laugh over that as they left me there all alone while they went out and had an evening of fun. *** The good news was that it was the eve of Spring Break and Shane was in Delta Delta Fem sorority house, with Cammie, a stunningly good looking girl. The bad news was that he was naked and his penis was locked in a chastity tube. She was fully dressed and standing there with one hand on her hip, head cocked to the side as she observed him and said, "You have gotten yourself into quite a fix, Mister. Your clothes got tossed down the laundry chute and the wash room is locked, so there's no way to get them. And you let me put that metal trap on your stick because you thought it was just some kind of kinky foreplay. Well, it is that, but only for ME. And the key to your cock box is somewhere you'll never find it. Kind of a tight spot for you. Right, sport? And if I call the campus police..." He stood there feeling painfully awkward, naked as a jaybird, his penis under lock and key. Or rather, no key. Shane shifted his bare feet nervously and said, "Really, Cammie, you've had your fun. I only came because I thought, well, that you liked me. And that we might... you know." "Well, I really DO like you. Just not as somebody I'd take to bed. I like you more the way a cat likes a mouse. To play with and be mean to." She chortled and stepped back to take a long look at him. At the same time, he was looking at her. She had on a prim white blouse and brief plaid skirt. Her shoes were Mary Janes, with which she wore white knee socks. There was a band in her long blond hair. She didn't LOOK evil, but that was certainly how she was acting. Shane only wanted to extricate himself from this increasingly weird and threatening situation. That was when she offered, "Look, if you go along with a few more little things, I guess I could see my way clear to letting you go back to your dorm and cry on your pillow." She was being intentionally insulting but he didn't take the bait. Instead he told her, "Sure, Cammie. Whatever you want. A few more... little... things." "That's a good sport. Now how about if we play a kind of bondage game before we say goodbye." He didn't like the idea of being tied up but it appeared that he was going to have to surrender his short term freedom to win his long term liberty from her. He sighed and said in a subdued voice, "Yes, Cammie. Okay." She grinned and took him by the hand, walking him along, side-by-side, almost like a couple of college kids feeling romantic. But when she got him to the basement -- in sight of the locked door to the laundry room where his jeans and shirt and all were -- he was confronted with a tall frame made of sections of metal pipe. Shane froze up as he noticed the cuffs attached to it by short lengths of sturdy chain. "Come on," she chided. "Don't be a spoilsport. Step right up, Big Man On Campus, and have some kinky fun." On shaky legs he put himself in the center of the upright frame. It was a simple arch that rose a few feet above his head. She urged him to extend his arms and then she attached the cuffs to his wrists. Soon his ankles were also shackled. That was when she put on some pulsing music, not too loud, and produced an electric razor. As he watched disbelievingly, she began to shave off his body hair. He shook his head violently but she just chuckled at his distress and kept working, taking her time to prolong his emotional discomfort. When she did his crotch area she made sure to stroke his thighs and pat his butt, her attention calculated to make his penis rise, except that in its prison it could only try futilely and make his balls throb. When he was done she stepped back to admire a job well done. Then she opened her cell phone, hit a pre-set number, and said, "Yo. He's ready for us to start. You should all get over here right now." She spotted the horrified look on Shane's face and giggled. Then she stuck out her tongue at him. All too soon the door opened and three more females strolled in. They were carrying lots of plastic objects which, at first, he didn't recognize. Belatedly he realized that they were sex toys. There were gags and dildos and butt plugs and a few more he still couldn't identify. One of them had a hat box from which she took a bright yellow wig, made of obviously artificial material. Another had an oversized shoulder bag from which she unpacked a crop, a paddle and a whip. The last opened a mini- suitcase and produced several devices that he was afraid were meant to administer electric shocks. Shane nearly swooned. At the same time, the girls were very attractive. One was a sexy Asian in a black tank top and baggy khaki pants tucked into military boots. The second was a slender Black beauty in a cheerleader's outfit, which was a particular fetish of his. The last had on a starched white blouse and tailored skirt suit, which gave her an authoritarian look that was complimented by large, thick-framed glasses. "Now," said Cammie, "let's make you nice and pretty before we let the games begin." All at once the four misses were taking clothes from a nearby wardrobe and freeing his limbs one at a time to dress him. He reflexively tried to resist and that earned him several shocks from their electrical playthings, and a severe caning of his bare bottom. He stopped fighting back and soon was wearing three inch heels, a garter belt and stockings, a tight corset, and that outrageously bright wig, which had bangs and fell to his shoulders. There were even fingerless lace gloves, opera length. The Asian gal approached with a cosmetics bag and offered to share its contents with the others. They went to work and soon his face was decorated expertly, the most dramatic effect being loud magenta lipstick. He whimpered when they went and got a full length mirror to prop up opposite him, so he could see himself. There was more teasing, with their talented hands running all over him, but that was interspersed with brief punishments, including the insertion of a brutal butt plug. His mouth was filled with an expanding gag that was then opened to its maximum dimensions. They gathered around him and admired the work they had done so far, and how prettily he was sheened with sweat. His legs were beginning to hurt from standing in those heels and his arms were beginning to protest from being bound over his head for too long. His back was getting sore. How much of this could he withstand? All he wanted was for the ordeal to end, so he could flee back to his off-campus apartment. That was when Cammie said to the rest of his captors, "Let's not rush this, girls. After all, the plan is to keep him here for THE REST OF THE SEMESTER." Shane almost fainted. (The above naughty scene was inspired by the wicked images of Emma S., aka Emma Van Stahl. You should check out her computer art which appears on renderotica.com and elsewhere.) ****** Two wives were sitting in the recreation room of one of their homes. They were having an amusing conversation. The first, Flo, said, "So what do you have your husband wearing lately?" Her friend, Edie, told her, "I just bought him the most darling panties, with mini-ruffles around the leg holes. I make him put them on -- while I watch, naturally -- and then get himself into a belly shirt. I love to make him leave his soft midriff bare. And the panties are snug enough that they show off his chubby butt. Along with those cute things, I have him slip his feet into slippers with open toes and two inch heels. The toes show off his painted nails and the heels add a bit of wiggle to his walk. Then I tell him, 'Linda, be a dear and get me my cell phone. I want to call my lover." Edie laughed and said, "I'll have to try that combination on my husband Mary. He will get SO red in the face. Especially when I announce that I'm going to chat with my Bull. Of course, I'll have hubby stay in the room so he can hear every sex-drenched word I purr to that big-cocked stud." They sipped their wine and enjoyed the erotic buzz they got from discussing their sissy spouses. Then Flo resumed with, "I've noticed that Linda doesn't even hint around that he wants sex with me any longer. I'm sure he does, but he's so conditioned to being teased and denied, eating my pussy, and being around when I get real screwings from my man, that he just doesn't think about it consciously. You can see the longing in his sad eyes but then he starts looking at my crotch, licking his lips, and even craning his neck toward his target. When I allow him to go down on me he's visibly grateful. I suppose it's because I've spent so much time reminding him about what a dud he is in bed and how the only way he can please me is with his mouth, that by now it's his idea of normal sex." "Sounds about right," Edie agreed. "I got Mary to that point around, I don't know, six months ago. Then what I did, to get his mind really messed up, was to focus on having him use his mouth on my ass. Sometimes, even I wanted him licking my pussy, I would tell him he was restricted to stimulating me from behind. It's like, denying them sex makes them hungry to munch pussy, but not letting them do even that gets them obsessed with whatever you DO allow. It's to the point where I can lie on my tummy and make Mary put his face on my butt, even let him kiss the cheeks, but not let him go any further, and that makes him absolutely crazy. He wants to worship my ass with his mouth because, if I take that off the menu, too, he won't have anything left. It'll just be me bossing him around and thinking up the most humiliating outfits for him to wear." Flo nodded. "Terrific. I find that my Linda's kind of hooked on the extra sissyish get-ups I put her into. Probably because he craves attention. I can ignore him for hours and then, when I do talk to him, I make a point to go on and on about my lover. That gets Linda soooo flustered. After treating him that way, if I spend time fussing over how he's going to be dressed, that becomes the high point of his day. In fact, yesterday, I put him into a ridiculous tutu, with nothing on under it, ballet shoes, and a silly tiara. He had to carry a plastic wand around with him, one with a big gold star on the end, and never let it drop below the level of his shoulders. I mean, he got totally into staying in that role, prancing around, I imagine because he knew I was watching him and looking for mistakes." "That's awesome," Edie said enthusiastically. "I love that we can keep pushing our wimpy men further and further, reprogramming their weak minds to the point where they WANT to degrade themselves. And when I tell my 100% man about all that, he gets off on how completely I've cut off Mary and how impossible it is for my hubby to even think of having normal sex with me, ever again. I guess it's one of those Alpha male issues, where my lover has to have his competition utterly conquered. And the fact that I'M the one who did it to Mary, did it to please my stud, makes it work even better. Lover-man gets amazingly turned on by being so unquestionably the only one who can have me. In fact, I make sure never to use Mary's old male name. I think that adds to the effect." "Well," Flo said, a bit breathily, "it gets me excited in the same way. Every time I order Linda to play with his nipples and get his tiny dick hard, I'm wet in like two seconds." "Likewise," Edie said, her cheeks slightly pinked. "I had Mary wank himself while he was looking at Playgal magazine, at pictures of guys who are way better hung than he is. I kept him at it for a while, letting him think he's at least going to be able to cum and get some relief, and then I made him put the magazine away so we could discuss how I should dress for my next date." They spontaneously raised their glasses in a toast. Flo suggested, "Here's to keeping our husbands trapped in their sissy lifestyle and never letting them regain their masculinity." "Not even a portion of it," seconded Edie. "In fact, I think we should resolve to make them..." She paused to come up with a number. "...make them 50% more sissified than they already are." They grinned at each other as they drank to that proposition, draining their glasses happily, intent of making their pledge a reality. ****** Sissy Samantha was hurrying around, trying to get all of her housework done before her new favorite TV show, Deceitful Housemaids, came on. Samantha's wife was a business executive and had to be away for the weekend. She had told her maid/husband that he could watch the show, but only if all his work was done. Even though she wasn't there, he knew better than to try to cheat. When she returned and fixed him with her penetrating glare, he would break down in seconds and confess to any wrongdoings. She had gotten a promotion -- yet ANOTHER promotion -- six months ago, and the huge bonus and raise that came with it allowed her to tell him to quit his job. It had been a shock to his ego to become her man-wife, but she had already been dominating him and feminizing him for years, so he had gotten over it rather quickly. In fact, he was taking to his new full-time role well and that was why he liked that TV program so much. He found himself relating to those domestics, though he liked their rather plain work attire less than he did his own pretty maid outfits. Tonight he had on a brief apron with nothing under it. He also had an abbreviated top that covered his upper chest but left his belly bare. He had a flat tummy and was proud of it. The top had puffed shoulders and short sleeves. On his slender legs were stay-up stockings and on his small feet he wore shoes with two-inch heels. He wasn't given any make-up or allowed to let his hair grow long, because his wife wanted him be constantly aware that he wasn't a man posing as a woman, but a man who had been reduced to a sissy. He straightened his wife's tennis trophies and then dusted them. She was so athletic, not a weakling like him. And she had boundless confidence, while he had become increasingly shy and sensitive. Sissy Samantha was glad now that she didn't have to go to work and compete. Another area in which the well-controlled husband didn't have to compete was the bedroom. His wife had discontinued all traditional sex with him and now he was only allowed to serve her in the role of, as she delighted in saying, her male lesbian, using fingers and tongue to gratify her needs while being denied almost all relief himself. The reason he couldn't compete there was because she had taken a lover a year before, a unquestionably manly six- footer named Kyle. He was an executive too, so even when Samantha had been employed, Kyle had out-earned him. Plus, he was his physical superior. Samantha's wife liked to joke that her lover was six foot, eight inches, though that final measurement was the length of his cock. She often dressed her sissy with his unimpressive dick on display, so she could remind him of his inability to satisfy her as a man. As Samantha thought of this, he sighed and continued his chores. He was right on schedule and eager to watch his show. When he completed his final task it was only minutes until the program was about to begin. That was when he heard a key turning in the lock of the front door. He froze, wondering why his bride had returned. A shiver ran through him; he had become so nervous since she had begun to accelerate his transformation. But it wasn't his wife coming into the house, it was Kyle, followed by three other imposing men. Samantha blushed bright red as they eyed him and laughed at what a silly sissy he was. He stood here meekly, knees together, wringing his hands and licking his lips. Kyle shook his head disapprovingly and said, "Hey, Sammi. Can't you see I've brought guests home? Get stepping, wimp. Bring us some beers and then get us snacks. The startled and embarrassed sissy did as he was told, fighting back tears of shame. He put four bottles of beer on a round tray and carefully brought them to the loud, cheerful men, who had set up a card table and put four chairs around it. One of them, a Black guy, snatched one of the beers and twisted off its cap. Samantha stepped among them daintily, offering the remaining bottles to the others. Kyle got the last one and snapped at him to bring snacks -- or else. Samantha whimpered and returned to the kitchen, where he found pretzels and chips, and put them into two bowls. Returning, he found the men seated around the table, one of them shuffling a deck of cards. The intimidated sissy stood out of the way until Kyle snapped his fingers and ordered him to place the bowls on two corners of the table. Samantha obeyed wordlessly and, in a small voice, dared to ask, "Is there anything else, Sir?" The men guffawed at his soft voice and humble manner. Kyle looked at the others and said, "Poker's the game. How about, whoever wins each hand gets sucked by Sammi here until the next hand is over. That way she'll be busy the entire time but won't have a chance to finish any of us. She'll have a quartet of available cocks for the whole evening." They all laughed at that and agreed that it was a fine idea. Samantha realized that this must be my his wife had been wearing a strap-on frequently and making him practice fellatio on it. Did these brutes realize that he could perform deep throat? Probably his wife had gleefully kept Kyle apprised of his progress. He hugged himself and looked at the man who was sleeping with his bride. Samantha pleaded with his eyes but Kyle just said, "Well, what are you waiting for? Get under the table, slut, and unzip all of us. I want you to get four cocks out and ready for action, pronto." With a whispered, "Yes, Sir," the cuckolded husband got down on his stockinged knees and crept under the table. Soon he was lowering flies, rummaging inside trousers, and freeing penises, which were all long and thick, though each was different in some way from the others. One had an extra large head, another was especially wide, the third was particularly hairy, and Kyle's, which he had only seen previously when it was being fondled by his wife or plunged into her, was the longest. Samantha listened as play began, not able to follow the game. He had never learned poker and now, naturally, would be lucky if he was taught even bridge. No, poker was a man's game and the four males joked and used rough language as they handled their cards. The guy with the thickest cock won first. Samantha gulped drily as he moved his lips close to it, extended his pink tongue, and gave an experimental lick. At once the organ grew to its limits. His lips quivered as he fitted them around it and began to slowly run his mouth up and down it's length. The owner of the cock said, "There's nothing like a sissy for sucking. And this one has such a soft tongue. You should feel it, guys, the way its running all along the underside of my tool." Another of them assured him, "We will. All of us. More than once each. It's going to be a long night." Poor Samantha continued to mouth the rampant shaft until someone else, the Black man, won the next hand, and then he had to lavish attention on that cock. It was so demeaning to be used that way, like a cheap whore. And then it struck him that, when his wife returned after her conference, Kyle would give a detailed report of the shame that had been inflicted on the man-wife. Or else make Samantha relate the details himself. Soon, for Samantha, everything became a blur of sucking on meat and listening to crude jokes about himself. It went on and on, with all of the men leaking copious pre-cum, but none of them ejaculating. He had to take each of them into his virgin throat and later drop their pants to their ankles so he could lap their balls. Kyle mentioned that, "Sammi has the tiniest dick you'll ever see. When the sissy gets out from under the table, make sure you have her lift her apron so you can get an eyeful. And because his wife makes him remove all the hair down there, it looks even more immature." Samantha knew that was all true but he still had to struggle not to begin crying. To keep his mind off the cruel stinging insults, he concentrated on doing the best job he could of giving spirited blowjobs. He knew how much of a sissy his bride had made him into and it seemed somehow right that he should find himself in this disgraceful predicament. So he used his fingertips and lips and tongue to deliver the most thrills he could to the four card players, telling himself that, though it was impossible for them to respect him as a man, they might at least value his talents as a sissy. When, at long last the game was ended, the four men sat around the room on chairs and the sofa, with their rods still exposed. Samantha had to remain on hands and knees to go to each of them and ask permission to finish him off. Every man gave instructions, saying how he wanted the sissy cuckold husband to make him shoot, and how he wanted the load of spunk handled. One desired oral sex without having his cock swallowed, just tongued in endless variations, until he was on the brink, at which point Samantha was to take the head between his lips and stroke the shaft lightly with his hand, until the male blasted his pent-up load all over that waiting tongue. Another preferred to stand and use the sissy's mouth like a pussy, pumping it vigorously to make himself spurt in a hurry. The third made the shaken sissy alternate between gulping man-flesh and carrying on about how much he enjoyed what he was doing, thanking the grinning male, and wishing out loud that he had such a manly member himself. And when he shot, Samantha had to hold the cream in his mouth and show everyone how much there was. Finally it was Kyle's turn. He wanted to top everybody else, so he stood and put his back to the man he had made a cuckold of, telling him to eat his ass while reaching around to rub his cock. Samantha was stunned by the perversity of it, but did what he was told. One of the others referred to it as 'playing the rusty trombone'. It went on and on and then, when Kyle was ready to climax, he made Samantha come around front and kneel there with his mouth gapingly opened. Kyle wanked himself, resting the knob of his meat on the sissy's tongue, and launching his heavy load of cream against the roof of his mouth, as he did so telling him, "And you're not allowed to rinse or brush your teeth until your wife comes homes, Sammi. I want you to know that your mouth has been properly used, you wimpy little sissy. And you can thank all of us, one at a time, for doing it to you." At that point the helpless husband began to sob and tearfully told each of them how much he had enjoyed their cocks, how deeply he craved more of the same, and how he hoped they would have many more get-togethers and let him play the same part at every one of them. They thought that was both pitiful and hilariously funny. Already they were talking about additional ways to use and demean the male maid. In the end they agreed to make this a regular event, and Kyle said Samantha's wife would probably want to be present for the finale at least once, so she could remind her husband, at every opportunity, that she had turned him into a sissy and watched him be a cocksucker. ****** (If you got off on these short scenes, you might want to explore my earlier efforts, including VACATION TRANSFORMATION.)