I didn’t know it at the time, and only learned it now, but with
a girl like her, it has to be pleasing her or it will never work.
This is what sissy world and their goddesses understand best,
and I think that was the lesson she learned on the cruise with that old lady.
Men are best when they serve her interests, and that their who
lives should be focused on ways to make her happy, not their own pleasure.
This is how women really survive, shifting the balance of
power, if not literally castrating men, the way Goddesses do when creating
sissies, then making sure the men who want her attention must serve her first.
as I noted, the pills the doc gave me don’t work, or at least
I didn’t think they did, and so I kept on increasing the dosage until they did –
moderately, enough to wrap my hands around when I got there.
Since the surgery, I religiously kept to the prescribed
dosage, feeling the tinkling at times, but nothing dramatic. Upping the dosage
did enough to keep me content, even if I had to create the satisfaction for
myself.
Had I been wiser, I might have read the instructions better.
While I did take the pill at the same time every day – a pill
that would allow me to be ready on the unlikely chance I would actually need
it.
What I did not notice was that the effects were cumulative,
safe enough at the recommended dosage, but magnified with each escalation.
Thus was the shock when I saw the pretty young black woman
on the train, a woman who made things worse for me by wearing an amazingly
tight white blouse. Not only could I not stop staring (a repeat of those
uncomfortable horny days at our office years ago), I dared not leave my seat,
having mysteriously grown a third leg.
She noticed me noticing, too, shifting from foot to foot at
the far end of the train car, but never fully away, as if she enjoyed someone admiring
her. When a seat opened after several stops, she sat, but did not turn away
completely, leaving me full view of her blouse, her amazing boobs, and yes,
also amazing legs.
When she got off a stop before my stop, she looked worn out,
as if she’d made love in her brain the whole trip, glancing briefly at me
through the window at where I still sat on the inside of the train.
When my stop came, I still didn’t move, figuring it might
take a few more stops there and back to shrink the leg my excess use of the
pills had provided me with, leaving me more than twinge when I finally got up
and out – a lesson learned the hard way.
I still am to some degree, something has been added since that puzzles me
When I was young I could not stop from staring at women's chest s
Size never mattered but I really got off on cleavage
I often wondered what the nuns who taught looked like underneath their habit, did they have cleavage too
But what still gets me off is any woman wearing a white shirt with breast poking out
Pretty or ugly or, anywhere in between mattered not
lately I started noticing women's butts and tight jeans
Everywhere I Go women seem to be wearing garments that literally are so tight I could see everything without my x-ray glasses from where I was a kid
On the train or walking down the street , I seem to be behind women with these tight little butts, that's all I look at the whole way down the street until either they turn off when I do ,
This became something a problem I when I noticed the butt of a girlfriend to a local politician, the two of them scheduled to be married short ly,
She noticed me noticing her and to my surprise she strutted several times in front of me ,
When I looked away she moved to where I was looking I started to react
Now it's become an obsession I can't look anywhere else but at the butts of the women working in front of me or behind or on the train
The pills the doc gave me after the surgery never really worked, these low dose medicine designed to keep me aroused and yet did nothing,
When I really wanted something, even if I could not do anything with anybody after the result ,
I just want to see if I could still get it up like that when I think of her,
The way I got it up sometimes like I did those nights whenit's still was possible to do something ,
So I started doubling the dose and felt the tingles there if not quite a balloon , more so what I looked that old photos, not the nude ones but the ones in when she was going out and I imagined her being with someone else ,
It's hard to feel like a cuckold with nothing else is possible,
So i increased the dose again, just to see what would happen, just to see if the tingling amounted to more than just a twitch,
And I felt something more, growing inside and outside me, and finally I had it, more for medicin recommended, and more of a tingle that turned into something much better and themore I coveted her photos, the more intense it became until I pumped up the volume pointlessly, alone and yet somehow satisfactory
