As a special surprise Easter gift Daddy bought me a new sissy romper! I wore it all day. Here it is.
My lecherous Easter Bunny Daddy brings me the best stuff! Much better than any faux straw basket full of plastic grass & tasteless fake chocolate bunnies & smelly colored eggs! He brings me stuff that makes me feel all girly & pink & that watching me wear gets his dick hard so he eventually has to fuck me again & again.
We snuggled in & watched some television through most of the rainy, chilly afternoon. Mostly we watched this show where these two guys resurrect old junkyard wrecks & customized them into Frankensteinian hotrods. Roadkill, its called. Actually, Daddy was watching Roadkill & I was mainly reading Jackson Galaxy's book about how he overcame many personal addictions & just being an all-around dickhead to become a successful cat behavior expert. They do a lot of hooting & hollering & loud raucous antics with cars on Roadkill, racing the engines, squealing the tires & just generally making NOISE for the sake of NOISE! I remember as a child never understanding why boys had to make so much NOISE. It was like they could never just sit still & be quiet. They could never read or draw or play without some kind of violent disturbance in the field around them. It always frightened me. Especially since I feared being the eventual & inevitable target of their noisy rough activity. Which I often was. They were forever throwing wadded up paper or making spitballs or knuckling the back of your head or kicking your chair or god knows what else got into their dark little skulls. They seemed to be geniuses when it came to that sort of thing. The problem back then was that since I wasn't seen as a girl I was expected to be just like them and when I wasn't they targeted me as a "sissy." If I'd been seen as a girl, I'd have been left alone. I'd have been immune to their antics because back then even little boys understood that you didn't expect girls to participate in that kind of stuff & you didn't subject them to it either. Girls, by nature of being girls, got a free pass through the minefield of boy bullying. Well, nowadays, I feel much more at home around loud raucous guys—in fact, I even find it endearing & mildly arousing…boys at play with their toys—since I'm not expected to like it or participate in it myself…because I'm seen as a girl….and lots of times guys seem to be doing it as a way of showing off in front of me, which is flattering even if somewhat childish…it is, as I said, endearingly childish. You know, boys will be boys.
Speaking of boys being boys, Daddy eventually put Roadkill on mute & called me over to give him an Easter afternoon blow job. I performed this traditional Easter rite on my knees while Daddy reclined & rocked in his big Daddy chair. Let me tell you. The person who used to inhabit this body—that alien identity, that faux "I," that socially constructed "he"—lived a great deal of its life through many traditional family Easters, sitting around the table, passing plates around, listening to the chatter and laughter of which it never felt a part, bored and unhappy, feeling out of place, passively listening to the squabbles & petty sniping of one "loving" in-law family or another. Christ almighty, thank God I'm done forever with all of that!!! There's nothing better than prancing around in a pink gingham romper all day, getting groped & manhandled & ultimately sucking my Daddy's cock in the living room on Easter Sunday!
In bed tonight, Daddy, in order to help put me to sleep, lightly stroked my tummy & told me all about bus doors, their operation & mechanisms for opening & closing. Before that, though, with my face in his crotch & his dick once again between my lips, he told me all about the operation of Daddy cock, its needs & functions, how it is installed in a sissy's mouth, for instance, & pistons back & forth, over & over, how it must be lubricated, teased around the head, the ridge fingered & tongued & then how its plunged again, like a blade for tempering, into the warm velvety pocket of a sissy's face-cunt (aka mouth) until it ejaculates its pent up charge of energy & salty fluid. This is a lesson Ive some acquaintance with, its true, but one can always learn something new & practice makes perfectly girly.
Right before I drifted off, Daddy once again gave me a "last thought to take to sleep with me." Which was what a good little sissywife I was & how I had the most delightful little titties…….and the rest was lost as I was no longer conscious.
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| Look, its an Easter Sissy!!! |
We snuggled in & watched some television through most of the rainy, chilly afternoon. Mostly we watched this show where these two guys resurrect old junkyard wrecks & customized them into Frankensteinian hotrods. Roadkill, its called. Actually, Daddy was watching Roadkill & I was mainly reading Jackson Galaxy's book about how he overcame many personal addictions & just being an all-around dickhead to become a successful cat behavior expert. They do a lot of hooting & hollering & loud raucous antics with cars on Roadkill, racing the engines, squealing the tires & just generally making NOISE for the sake of NOISE! I remember as a child never understanding why boys had to make so much NOISE. It was like they could never just sit still & be quiet. They could never read or draw or play without some kind of violent disturbance in the field around them. It always frightened me. Especially since I feared being the eventual & inevitable target of their noisy rough activity. Which I often was. They were forever throwing wadded up paper or making spitballs or knuckling the back of your head or kicking your chair or god knows what else got into their dark little skulls. They seemed to be geniuses when it came to that sort of thing. The problem back then was that since I wasn't seen as a girl I was expected to be just like them and when I wasn't they targeted me as a "sissy." If I'd been seen as a girl, I'd have been left alone. I'd have been immune to their antics because back then even little boys understood that you didn't expect girls to participate in that kind of stuff & you didn't subject them to it either. Girls, by nature of being girls, got a free pass through the minefield of boy bullying. Well, nowadays, I feel much more at home around loud raucous guys—in fact, I even find it endearing & mildly arousing…boys at play with their toys—since I'm not expected to like it or participate in it myself…because I'm seen as a girl….and lots of times guys seem to be doing it as a way of showing off in front of me, which is flattering even if somewhat childish…it is, as I said, endearingly childish. You know, boys will be boys.
Speaking of boys being boys, Daddy eventually put Roadkill on mute & called me over to give him an Easter afternoon blow job. I performed this traditional Easter rite on my knees while Daddy reclined & rocked in his big Daddy chair. Let me tell you. The person who used to inhabit this body—that alien identity, that faux "I," that socially constructed "he"—lived a great deal of its life through many traditional family Easters, sitting around the table, passing plates around, listening to the chatter and laughter of which it never felt a part, bored and unhappy, feeling out of place, passively listening to the squabbles & petty sniping of one "loving" in-law family or another. Christ almighty, thank God I'm done forever with all of that!!! There's nothing better than prancing around in a pink gingham romper all day, getting groped & manhandled & ultimately sucking my Daddy's cock in the living room on Easter Sunday!
In bed tonight, Daddy, in order to help put me to sleep, lightly stroked my tummy & told me all about bus doors, their operation & mechanisms for opening & closing. Before that, though, with my face in his crotch & his dick once again between my lips, he told me all about the operation of Daddy cock, its needs & functions, how it is installed in a sissy's mouth, for instance, & pistons back & forth, over & over, how it must be lubricated, teased around the head, the ridge fingered & tongued & then how its plunged again, like a blade for tempering, into the warm velvety pocket of a sissy's face-cunt (aka mouth) until it ejaculates its pent up charge of energy & salty fluid. This is a lesson Ive some acquaintance with, its true, but one can always learn something new & practice makes perfectly girly.
Right before I drifted off, Daddy once again gave me a "last thought to take to sleep with me." Which was what a good little sissywife I was & how I had the most delightful little titties…….and the rest was lost as I was no longer conscious.
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