Being Allessandra's. Alessandra wasn't just the top of my favorites list. Hers was the only name on the list, the girl above all girls, the woman above all women-I'd wanted her to hurt me for almost a quarter century. It wouldn't be right to say that we 'got back together' at our Twentieth High School Reunion. We'd never been together. There had just been that one high school kiss. She'd drawn blood. Now we are together! Trying to figure out if/how we can make a life with each other. In the meantime, the pain feels SO good!
Double-Cucked & Regressed. If you want to think of me as a Suburban Bull? Go right ahead: Behind those white picket fences? Under those dowdy housewife dressing gowns? Down in 'Ozzie & Harriet's' Rec Room? There is some gorgeously perverse stuff going on, and I am more than happy to play my part!
Gloria was pretty clearly my type-which is really more a matter of rhythm and vibration rather than packaging. Not that the packaging left much of anything to be desired. Mid to late forties; genuine-looking red hair, in a bit of a buzzcut-I don't mind a hint of androgyny, now and again, as a change of pace; piercing green eyes; nicely formed breasts.
Two drinks at the bar and she asked if I wanted to step outside, have a smoke. I don't smoke. But I do 'step outside.' That first time I went home with her. Everything was smooth as silk. Her husband-nude, shaved, and locked-kneeling just inside the front door, a little prelude in the living room, a full night of the main event in the bedroom, with her husband kneeling just outside that door. He called her 'Mommy'? That was a little weird.
But went back for seconds, at the end of which-deprived of oxygen in a way that was not without its pleasures-I regained consciousness to find that *I* was now calling her 'Mommy' too. Then I was shipped off to Mistress Penniford's Academy for the Formation of Boys for an arduous six-week training course in how to be a regressed, submissive cuck. On graduation, one of the other boys whispered to me: 'When you get home, your Mommy's going to sell you.' The thought terrified me. How could I possibly leave Mommy?
Double-Cucked & Regressed. If you want to think of me as a Suburban Bull? Go right ahead: Behind those white picket fences? Under those dowdy housewife dressing gowns? Down in 'Ozzie & Harriet's' Rec Room? There is some gorgeously perverse stuff going on, and I am more than happy to play my part!
Gloria was pretty clearly my type-which is really more a matter of rhythm and vibration rather than packaging. Not that the packaging left much of anything to be desired. Mid to late forties; genuine-looking red hair, in a bit of a buzzcut-I don't mind a hint of androgyny, now and again, as a change of pace; piercing green eyes; nicely formed breasts.
Two drinks at the bar and she asked if I wanted to step outside, have a smoke. I don't smoke. But I do 'step outside.' That first time I went home with her. Everything was smooth as silk. Her husband-nude, shaved, and locked-kneeling just inside the front door, a little prelude in the living room, a full night of the main event in the bedroom, with her husband kneeling just outside that door. He called her 'Mommy'? That was a little weird.
But went back for seconds, at the end of which-deprived of oxygen in a way that was not without its pleasures-I regained consciousness to find that *I* was now calling her 'Mommy' too. Then I was shipped off to Mistress Penniford's Academy for the Formation of Boys for an arduous six-week training course in how to be a regressed, submissive cuck. On graduation, one of the other boys whispered to me: 'When you get home, your Mommy's going to sell you.' The thought terrified me. How could I possibly leave Mommy?
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