Many sissies have dreams of being a sissy bride. While this sissy has worn a wedding gown, it wasn't on my wedding day. So technically, I was never a bride.
But I've been blessed to be my Mistress' "wife." This morning I prepared breakfast for Mistress and Her lover Karl. He'll be leaving shortly because today is Valentine's Day and Mistress wants to spend it alone with Her wife.
It's a beautiful expression of how much She loves Her wife.
Happy Valentine's Day all!
Love,
sissy terrie 💕
The following is the second in a series of a young sissy's experiences with makeovers at the hands of an older woman....you can read the first installment here.
"You look absolutely beautiful. You've come a long way since that first time we did this" Florence told me. I could tell she was pleased with me as well as with herself. After all, the girl I saw in the mirror was the product of her work.
I had to admit I looked stunning and 100% passable and I felt like a million bucks. I stood in front of the full length mirror in her shop and struck my most feminine and sexy poses. Florence hadn't completely finished my makeover just yet but wanted me to try on some heels and look in the mirror. Standing behind me she moved closer, moved the hair from my blonde wig aside and planted a kiss on my cheek. I blushed.
It wasn't the first time we'd kissed. It took some time but after the first couple of appointments with Her, our intimacy seemed to increase each time we saw each other. Her soft touches, a kiss here and there and before I knew it I'd developed a deep crush on her and she knew it. Soon we were embracing passionately and eventually, I began to pleasure her orally.
"Here" she said breaking me from my reverie as she handed my the tube of lipstick. "I think you're ready to put on the finishing touches yourself. And I'd like to watch you."
I took the tube of Cover Girl lipstick from her, smiled and with a little anxiety, began the application. Though I was nervous because I wanted to please Florence, it felt so very natural.
"Use this instead of the full mirror" she said handing me a small compact. "When you're out and about and need to freshen up, you're not always going to have a nice big mirror to look into."
Florence watched me slowly apply the lipstick. I was careful not to smudge any and when I was done I puckered them and blew myself a kiss into the tiny mirror. She smiled, pleased with what I'd accomplished.
"You know honey" she said. "Women like me are very, very hard to find. I just happen to have a thing for pretty boys and men like you. Unfortunately, I'm old enough to be your mother."
Florence's comment surprised and confused me. Was she saying she didn't want any more intimacy? I wasn't sure quite what to say.
"I've taken you about as far as I can with your femininity. Have you thought about expressing it in other ways?" she asked me.
"I'm not sure what you mean" I told her. "I mean, no...I don't want to have an operation if that's what you're asking me. I mean, sometimes I wish I was a girl but....I wouldn't want it all the time."
"I'm not necessarily talking about having surgery honey. There are other ways to experience femininity without a sex change" she said with a slight chuckle. "Let's be honest, you look absolutely stunning this way. You know darn well any man would find you very attractive."
I blushed a little more. Did Florence think I was gay? Or even bisexual? Why would she get that idea? Especially after our intimate times together. She was always satisfied with my oral attention and even though we never had intercourse, she always aroused me and would pleasure me with her "touch."
"Have you ever thought about being with a man?" she asked me point blank.
She saw right through my hesitancy to answer.
"Of course you have" she said. "Most all men who dress think about it. After all, it's almost impossible not to when you've embraced the level of femininity you've achieved. You should probably give it some thought. I only want you to be happy in life."
I smiled at her and didn't say anything. She could tell it had been on my mind. Before I could say anything she had taken the lipstick and compact out of my hands, set them aside and took my by the hand to her office in the back of the shop.
"It might mess up those pretty lips, but right now they belong to me" she said. "And between my thighs."
Love,
sissy terrie
Dressing in a wedding gown was one of my earlier feminine fantasies.
Love,
sissy wife terrie 💗
The following was submitted by a reader of mine. Lots to reflect in so few words.
How many of us can relate?
A Love Story
She loved him. More than he knew, more than he ever imagined, so much that she tried to understand his dreams.
From the beginning, from her first discovery that he had been secretly wearing her panties, it wasn’t easy for Monica to accept that the man she married liked to dress up in women’s clothes. He’d tried to hide it from her, but when she found her panty drawer out of order, some panties stretched and one pair torn, she asked.
Tom turned away, embarrassed, but answered honestly, eventually admitting that what he’d done was much like what he did as a boy with his mother’s intimate things. There were tears, from him, not her. She wasn’t angry, she was curious. She listened, tried to understand as her six feet two, former college linebacker husband described how he grew up secretly wishing he was a girl.
Eventually he told her everything, told her how he believed his wishes would go away if he grew strong muscles, learned how to be tough, and married a beautiful woman like her. But it didn’t work. As it turned out, the more he tried to be a man, the more he wanted to wear women’s clothes. It took several discussions over weeks for everything to unfold, but eventually he told her that he kept it all secret because he worried that she’d stop loving him if she knew the truth.
Monica connected the dots. The life they’d been living suddenly made much more sense. Her husband Tom could be wonderfully caring and sensitive, but he could be unpredictably moody, shift into a dark place, and withdraw from her, bury himself in his work. With this new information, she realized that Tom used work to hide from himself, to bury his desires, to turn away from the femininity he was trying to suppress.
Monica began to give Tom what she understood he needed. Starting small, she replaced all his male underwear with panties. Just like hers, only in his size. He wept when he saw them. After that, he began coming home earlier from the office. Each birthday, anniversary, and Valentine’s Day, she bought him another item of women’s clothing. First it was babydoll pajamas, then a bra, then nylon stockings. Eventually she allowed him to have a conservative skirt and blouse. Whenever he started becoming moody, she laid out some “girl clothes” for him on their bed and he understood that represented her consent for him to be feminine for an evening or a day. They choose a name for Monica to call him during those times: Nancy.
It was their secret. Over the years, their friends commented about what a cute couple they were, how in love they seemed to be, how Tom looked at Monica with such devotion in his eyes, how much he did around the house, how much he did for her. They were constant companions, married for over forty years by the time they both retired.
It was never easy for her. She still saw him as the rugged football player she married, but she came to ignore what underwear he wore, and she knew it made him happy. On the Nancy days, her background in theater helped her see it as harmless play-acting. She understood the power of make-believe, and the power of desire. Most of all she understood the meaning of love.
Tom was incredibly happy and loved Monica very, very much. She was the center of his universe and he did whatever he could to make her happy.
My special thanks to the reader who submitted this cute little story.
Love,
sissy terrie 💔
When you slip into your first pair of pink babydoll pajamas....
Love,
sissy terrie 💕💕💕
I love my coffee bold, black and hot.
Just like Mistress likes Her panties.
Here's to my friends in colder climates, stay nice and warm today in something pretty.
Love,
sissy terrie 👄👄👄
...this sissy is going to be serving in an apron at our private Super Bowl Party.
And not just any apron mind you but a very girly one.
Love,
sissy terrie 💙
💗💗💗💗💗