i sometimes daydream... fantasies really, about being abused by both sexes. For right now, my outlet is to write and draw. i can share my efforts if you like.
Here is an excerpt from "My Wife's Fuck Buddy"...
Just after I gave her the engagement ring, my piquantly attractive bride-to-be, Patricia (34-24-36) decided to let me know that she was “seeing another man.” She added that she would love to have me for a husband because she thought I was sweet, considerate, and that my cunt lapping made her delirious with ecstasy. My undersized five-inch penis would make no difference, she said, because her well-endowed boyfriend Buddy would be fucking her regularly with his impressive eight-incher. Also included in this verbal prenuptial understanding, was that I would do all the housecleaning and laundry, and obey her. I married my luscious brunette, Patricia, a week later.
On our wedding night, my wife directed me to drive to the secluded mountain overlook where Buddy had enjoyed her exquisitely tight virginity. She wore a conventional pleated skirt, which she pulled up around her waist to disclose voluptuous legs in nylon stockings, fastened close to her pussy with an ordinary garterbelt, and she had on high heels. As we drove, she playfully and painfully pinched the head of my throbbing weenie, while telling me the delicious details of her “first time” with Buddy.Here is an excerpt from "A Case for Pre-Nuptials"
My ex-wife Gail is a gorgeous 36-year-old unabashedly dominant bitch. I am a 45-year-old hospital administrator. From day one of our seven-year marriage Gail was only too happy to accommodate my desire for complete female domination and foot servitude. In fact, she relished the nightly power trip of kicking off her shoes and relaxing with a drink and a cigarette while I obediently kissed and massaged her beautiful size 7 ½ feet – as often as not with my mouth stuffed full of her dirty nylons. And (as she was fond of saying) she didn’t mind my fat paycheck either.
Six months ago Gail announced we were getting a divorce. Just like that. No reason, no discussion. She just dropped the divorce papers on the floor and indicated with the pointy toe of her high heeled pump where I was to sign. My signing, she said, would “demonstrate my true devotion,” and might even convince her to allow me an occasional date after divorce. If I refused, she assured me, the divorce would go through anyway and I would never see her again. Fearful of losing her forever, I immediately fell to my knees and signed.
Gail then told me she needed her “space,” and ordered me to move all my clothes and personal effects out to the garage. I would sleep there on a cot while we waited the 45 days for the divorce to become final. This trial separation, she said, would give her time to decide whether or not we would data after the divorce became final.
Here is an excerpt from something i am currently working on...
“She’s around here somewhere, I found…”
Just then there was this uncomfortable silence.
I knew that they knew.
I knew that they knew that I knew that they knew.
That was the worst part.
“I guess that since the maid’s off tonight, that we’ll just have to hang our own coats up.” For effect, Rick sighed out loud.
The closet door opened slowly. Light began to fill my hidey hole.
He was smiling.
He offered a hand as if asking me to dance at a cotillion.
Though it was a hand that I could not deny, I could not bear to take it. So, I extended mine as if to accept his, but I barely touched it with my fingertips.
“C’mon… that’s right, honey… c’mon. Be careful now, don’t want you to get a run in your stocking. That’s right… just a little bit more… thaaaaat’s right. We’re almost there…”
He grabbed my arm with a grip of iron.
“You can come out of the closet, Sweetheart… this is the nineties.”
He yanked me and flung me into the waiting arms of my manager’s husband.
“Get your faggot ass out here, you fucking queer sissy fag.”
I supposed he couldn’t find the words
He crushed me against his extensive belly by an unbreakable bear hug and lifted me off my feet.
“Well, hello there, Hillary the faggot maid!”
He kissed me full on the mouth. I managed to pull away from his kiss, but not for long.
For my brief respite, he began to crush me in a way that squeezed away all the resistance out of me.
I literally became limp and he knew it. He redoubled his kissing of me even going to a disgusting French kiss to the delight of his companions.
With my arms so pinioned to my sides, he danced me around the room in what must have been a grotesque parody of a waltz much to the amusement of his companions. I was a rag doll in his arms.
The dance ended with his dipping me.