=Thought for the Day=

Actually, I don't have any thoughts today.  Just a kind of pleasant sissy-buzzing in my head, many fleeting images & half-fantasies of me sucking some guy's cock or taking it up my sissypuss while another guy fucks my face. Or I'm walking through the parking lot of the grocery store and some guy just comes up, takes me by the wrist, and leads me back to his truck and has me blow him then and there. I would do it, too. All a guy, any guy, would have to do is be assertive and I wouldn't be able to say "no." I'd pretty much do whatever he told me to do.  I guess it's a good thing that guys don't realize how easy it would be, although sometimes I wish they did know. I fantasize a lot about being a prison bitch, too. I mean, I wouldn't resist for even a quarter of a second! Resist?! I would hardly be able wait to be the sissywife of the biggest baddest Daddy who'd have me! I know the reality wouldn't be half so delicious as my fantasies, but still—if I had to go to prison for some reason, the chance to be a sissy prison bitch would definitely be an upside!  I'd love to be a prostitute, too. Not for the money, though. I would give all the money I earned to my Daddy. I just like the cheapness of it all. I'm not talking high-end call girl or anything. I'm talking blowing guys for twenties in the front seats of cars or in x-rated video booths. I did that once with my husband before he was my husband. He took me into this x-rated video store in Philadelphia dressed like a tramp in a short pink plaid miniskirt, a skimpy blouse tied halter-style above my pierced navel, and platform sandals. As if that weren't enough, I was wearing a big sunhat. He led me by the hand to one of the booths and I knelt on the sticky floor & gave him a blow job while he fed tokens into the slot and watched porn. The best part was when he led me back out of the shop and the black guy running the shop was leaning on the counter chewing a toothpick and watching me all the way out the door knowing perfectly well what I'd just done. We walked a few doors down for a slice of pizza, my husband not caring if anyone had noticed we just came out of the sex shop. Who would say anything to him anyway? He looks like a Hells Angel. That was the same weekend he peed on me in the bathtub. It was a really great weekend. We got a lot of things established about our relationship that summer.