Emily - Reconnection

We had a lovely morning with B: took her to a coffee shop and the library, came home, relaxed for a bit, then off to her grandparents.

And then we had a lovely night together. Like a night where everything was perfect.

We went to dinner, were sat at an intimate table, and had a smiling waitress. She asked what brought us out; Emily answered, reaching across the table to take my hand. "I was out of town and we needed a night to reconnect with her." We got a nice smile from the waitress who understood.

We had a lovely meal and talked. A cocktail. A bottle of wine. We talked about love. About our years together. I told her I loved her more now than I ever had; the truth.

"I know, Sara, I know," she said, "you're so good to me. There's nothing more important."

I looked down, just for a moment. "Evan..."

"He's important. Very important. But never more important."

"Making love...implies love..."

She looked at me, took my hand. "I care for him," she said. "Very much. Part of me probably loves him in a way. But compared to us, it's...I don't know if I have the words...let me try. I should say it this way, part of me loves him, not probably. But as important as it is to me, as much as I enjoy it, it's insignificant compared to you. I know you know that but I know you want to hear it."

"I do," I said.

"I don't want to cross any lines."

"You didn't," I said. "Close...in a good way...I just..."

"Love me. I know, dear, I know."

"I missed you terribly," I said, "I...everything feels right in the world when you're home."

"I feel the same. I missed you and B terribly, too. I'm glad you let me be with him. I've even more glad to be home."

We finished our bottle of wine with the dessert we split, I gave her an eye, asking if she wanted another glass. She shook her head no. "Love, right now all I want to do is go home and make love to you."

If felt like magic, getting home, like we were suddenly standing in the bedroom, kissing, hands on one another, touching skin, touching nylon covered leg. "I want to make love to you," she said.

"Massage?" I asked, assuming.

"Yes, love," she said.

I got out the coconut oil, candles, looked at her, waited for her to take her position on the bed so I could massage her, but she shook her head. "No," she said.

"I thought..."

"No," she said again, "I said I want to make love to you." She pointed to the bed.

"Emily?" I asked, voice shaking.

"I'm going to make love to you," she said, taking the bottle of oil from me, pointing to the bed.

"But I...I thought..."

"On the bed," she said, guiding me, climbing on top of me. "Sara, I'm pampering you," she said.

It was a role reversal; normally I made love to her. Normally I pampered her. Normally I massaged her. Tonight she wanted the reverse.

I don't know how long she massaged me, I just know I was in heaven.  I don't know how long she massaged my back, her hands covered in oil, her breasts covered in oil, pushing into me, her nylon covered legs caressing mine. It was devine.

And then she started whispering in my ear.

"Was it difficult while I was gone?" she aske.

"Yes," I said, "I...I felt more angst this time."

"The making love conversation?"

"Yes," I said as she massaged me.

"Up to but not over the line."

I nodded. 

"All the leaking, I assumed," she said.

"I...I just thought..."

She snickered. "About my boyfriend, on top of me, his hard cock pressed against me, the head on my wet pussy?"

"Emily," I moaned.

"Shhhh," she said, kissing down my back, touching me, purring at me. "I want a man, love, I want Evan. But I need you more. I don't want to lose him, I couldn't lose you."

She rubbed up and down me, nylon on nylon. "I need my sissy more than I want him." she said.

"Emily, I..."

"Shhhh, my pretty girl, shhhhh."

I felt her legs on my legs, her feet on my feet.

"Emily, I..." I tried to say again.

She turned me over, rubbed herself against my cage, against my leg.

"I love fucking him," she said, "I love making love to him, but those are wants, this is a need."

I felt myself leaking, knew she knew it. She reached down, touched me with her finger, rubbed what leaked out on her lips, leaned over, kissed me deeply, and we shared it.

I don't know when she did it, I missed it. I don't know if I was so far gone with bliss, if I passed out, if I was just in a happy place, but suddenly it wasn't her wet pussy rubbing against me, it was something hard and thick.

"Emily, is...is that..."

She knew what I was asking, smiled. "I know how much you love Evan's cock," she said, "how you fantasize about it, but no, love, no, this is mine. I want you...no...I need you to have mine."

She lubed the dildo, the cock, her cock. "I need to take you with mine," she said, "I need to make love to you with mine."

She pushed me back, pressed the head of the cock, her cock, against me, pushed into me, fucked me.

I knew I was leaking as she made love to me. I felt the room spinning as I started to cum. Not the way a boy cums, but like a girl, a special way. Orgasm that built up and continued and continued.

"Oh, Emily," I moaned as I spread my legs, pulled them back, took her, felt her in me, fill me. I looked in my wife's eyes as she made love to me.

"That's it, my pretty little girl, that's it." She was moaning, too, the part of the dildo inside her making her cum like I was. Two girls, in love, making love, our own bodies so natural.

"Emily," I blabbered. "Do...do you want me to turn over?" I knew that position worked for her, better, than this. It was good for me, either.

"No," she growled, "not yet, I want to watch you cum."

"I...I am cumming," I said.

"I know," she said, "and now I want to watch your face when you squirt."

I did almost immediately, the familiar weak spurts of a sissy, the orgasm coming from somewhere different, the squirts not the orgasm itself like a man.

"That's my good girl," she said. Only then did she turn me over, only after she'd made love to me, not in our usual way with me pampering her and focusing on her, but with her pampering me and her focusing on me. Only then did she think about her, only after she made love to me, made it about me.

Turning me over, she mounted me again, spread her legs, fucked me at an angle that worked her dildo into her as much as me. Even though I'd squirt, my orgasm continued and I moaned while she fucked me and then when she started shaking uncontrollably. 

Eventually she collapsed onto me, her cock buried deep inside me the way a man would, the way I'm sure Evan did. I was a mess, physically and emotionally.

"I love you so much," she whispered in my ear over and over, "I love you so much."

She caressed me, kissed me. "This is what I need, Sara, I want him, I need you. I have feelings for him, maybe even love him, but you eclipse all of that. You always have and you always will. For him. For any man."

"You mean that?" I asked.

"Always, Sara, always. I love that you give me time with him; I love how excited you get. I know you have angst. But you're everything. I love a man, I want a man, I need my girl. I need my sissy. I need you soft and feminine and small and locked and leaking." She reached under me, found what she could, brought it to my mouth. "You made a mess," she said, feeding it to me then kissing me.

We fell asleep like that, her half draped over me, our nylon covered legs entangled. 

I woke before she did as I usually did, got up, showered, dressed, and made her tea, piping hot, knowing it would cool to how she liked it by the time she woke up.

I heard her get up, use the bathroom; I went to the kitchen, got tea. 

"Now you're just teasing me," she said, seeing me waiting for her when she walked out of the bathroom. My uniform was more plain, more appropriate, but still pretty.

"No, Mistress," I said, "a...a thank you for last night. We have time; I thought I'd serve you breakfast. I made crepes, here's tea."

"Now you're pampering me," she said.

"Perhaps," I nodded. "I miss it...serving like this."

"Everything is a tradeoff," she said. She meant B; hardly a tradeoff.

"Hardly a fair trade," I said. "B..."

"Is everything. But I miss it, too," she said. "Well, shall we?"

"Tea first, I assume?"

She had a twinkle in her eye. "No, no, dear, cage inspection first."

"Yes, Mistress," I said, set the tray down, walked to her, lifted my skirt. 

She took me, smiled. "Soft and locked, as things should be."

B got home after lunch, Emily and I sat and talked before. Happy. Good. Natural.