That moment when…
There are a number of memes on the internet that begin with the phrase… That moment when… and beneath such memes is an image which captures the moment when your boss gives you more work, or your battery runs out, or you lock your keys in the car. Today I’d like to tell you about a meme that I’ve never seen but have personally experienced: that moment when… your girlfriend admits you have a tiny dick!
In my case it was a reluctant admission because my girlfriend loved me. She was a feminist and worked in an art gallery and wasn’t in the business of talking about big black cocks; but still, she had to admit it, and unfortunately there was an extra part tagged on: she admitted I had a tiny sissy dick and that she fantasised about a big black one.
I discovered this by accident on Valentine’s – that day in which every couple gets a licence to spice up their love life with some lingerie and sex toys. I rushed to Anne Summers and indulged my sissy fantasies – in the service of my girl of course – and bought a satin corset, elbow length gloves, and stockings. Free with this overpriced lingerie came some ties you could fasten your lover’s hands and feet with.
Five hours after said purchase and things were going swimmingly. Both of us got a massive kick from the lingerie, and my girlfriend, Jill, agreed to be tied up. We’d improvised a blindfold and I took the role of light dominator. As I’m the most submissive sissy this side of the equator that may seem counterintuitive, but watching her in a corset being submissive turns me on because I’d like to be in the same position myself.
Unfortunately, this kink only has so much capacity for arousal, and that Valentine’s day I couldn’t resist adding some cuckold submission. It was the blindfold that did it. There I was, aroused by the corset and Jill’s large breasts, and as she couldn’t see who was in the room, I thought how hot it would be for a black stud to do the job properly while I watched and whimpered and licked up the sloppy juices.
So, what did I do? I crept up the bed between her stockinged legs and gently eased her pussy lips open with my tongue, just below the corset frill. She moaned appreciatively and I said…
“Do you know why I blindfolded you?”
And she said that she didn’t.
“Because I’ve invited a guest.”
The effect was immediate: her moan was deeper when I licked, the effect of words not tongue.
“Why?” she asked, her tied and trussed body, vaguely wriggling.
“Why do you think?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes you do.”
I crept up the bed and started stroking her lips and probing them slightly. “Because you’d like to suck something, wouldn’t you?”
I pushed slightly against the lips and she opened to suck, while mouthing, ‘Yes!’.
“What would you like to suck?” I asked.
“Any penis? A regular one? I don’t think so.”
“Exactly! So why don’t you be a good girl and admit what type of penis you want.” I pushed the finger deeper into her mouth.
“A big one.”
She was definitely wriggling now – a corseted, blindfolded slut of a girlfriend who was admitting she wanted big cock. It was hot. “I want a big one. A big fat, thick one.”
“One that makes you gag?”
“Well, little slut…fortunately for you…I have just the right man… and he’s going to fuck you with his big cock for the next hour.”
I trailed a finger down the corset and reached her pussy. “Oh yes…here he comes…God he’s big.”
Jill writhed, and that was when she said those fateful words…
“Who is it?”
Or maybe I’ve got it the wrong way round. She innocently offered me a chance to elaborate on the fantasy, and I could have said anyone I wanted: BBC legend, Lexington Steele, that huge guy we once saw on the beach, Coco the fucking clown, the list is endless. But instead, it was me who uttered those fateful words…
I chose her boss for selfish reasons. He was black and muscular and alpha, and I fantasised about blowing him myself while a dressed in a sissy corset. But it worked for both of us and what followed was a horny fuck in which we really got off on the idea of a threesome with Jill’s black boss and his meaty black cock.
So what was the problem?
The problem was that while I enjoyed it immensely, I eventually orgasmed and then didn’t enjoy it immensely. You see, her boss was a bad choice. He was single, constantly flirted with her, and Jill was attracted to him. The fantasy was a bit too real, and that may seem strange as I’m about to tell you the story of how I became a cuckold maid in the service of a black master, but this is now and that was then.
Then, I was still clinging to manhood, and told myself I was just a regular guy with a little fetish. I suffered from the poison of testosterone – that venom drummed into you by the hormone itself as well as society: be a man! Now I know that I can’t be a man because I have a tiny cock and fantasize about being a sissy maid to a muscular black guy or a woman that humiliates me. Now I’ve accepted it… but then I didn’t, and what started out as a cuckold fantasy became a poison in our relationship. I was jealous.
I started sniping, I started hinting, and then I started making accusations. I sucked her into arguments and in a moment of anger she said I didn’t satisfy her. The next day she repented, but the damage was done…
…four weeks after Valentine’s day we broke up.
So, why am I telling you all this? I guess, to bring you to the point where my story really starts. Losing Jill forced me into therapy and helped me see that a part of me is a submissive girly slut (though, that wasn’t quite how the therapist put it) and to not only accept this, but to embrace it. Thus, when I heard about a place where sissies could serve a master or mistress as a sissy maid, I decided to go for it.
Acting out my fantasies was attractive because I’d recently entered a world of porn that became ever weirder and ever disconnected from reality. I work in human resources for a well-known sports brand and the more porn I consumed the more I started looking at men and women in the office in a more sexual way. It wasn’t healthy. BBC was no longer the British Broadcasting Corporation and a facial was something different from the metrosexual experience of five years previous. So, I decided that one night a week I’d become a maid and get some real big-black-cock and a real facial, and then I’d kick the porn.
That was the moralising narrative I used to justify it, anyway. But maybe the simple truth was that the porn just wasn’t enough anymore and I needed to get my hands, or rather my face, a whole lot dirtier.
(You have been reading Sissy Maid – Black Master)