Conversation

Camera ordered. You will have the software, and the rest is up to you, I guess. I'll certainly have to rearrange the room. I have a dedicated dsl line, so access won't be a problem. I had thought of just doing the regular web cam, but those are accessable by anyone so I decided that in this case discretion was the better part of valor, and the fewer people who can access it, the better.

As I work with people whose favorite passtimes include internet anything, it just seems smarter to do it this way.

And this way, I have no control over what you decide to look at, or when. And unless you tell me, I won't ever know if you're watching or not. I guess I had better behave, huh?

Or not... I'm still looking forward to that spanking.

Just a little something to occupy your mind... I'm going to have to start covering the car seat with a towel if you have me continue to drive this way.

Enjoyed talking to you this morning. Great way to start the day. Contributed to the need for a towel, though.

And hello again. I'm getting ready to head off to bed, but thought you might like to know that it's all over but the ironing. (Something I would only do for her!)

I'll probably drop you a line as well, but wanted it noted for posterity that I finished the dress at only a little past midnight. And I thought it would take until at least two.

Hi there, man who makes me wake up smiling every morning.

I think that's a good thing to call you, as calling you by your name, here, is out of the question. And it is so descriptive, too.

I'm practicing with my shoes, as I am alone in the house for the first time in who knows how long. I have a zipper to put into the formal, and then I'm done. And believe me, the next one is being made over the Christmas vacation. (we get a week off between Christmas and New Year's.)

The next one has to be large enough to be worn with a hoop. I'll have to send you a picture of that one.

But that is more than enough about my day. What about you? You spend so much time making sure I'm happy - what makes you happy? Not fairly happy, or happier. What makes you wake up smiling? One of your oldest friends wants to know.

And yes, I know the old saying. This cat is willing to take the risk.

I'm thinking of the butterfly skirt for tomorrow. It floats nicely. But it is conservative enough that I can wear it to my practice tomorrow afternoon. I'll have to dig up a decent shirt to wear with it, though. I own at least a hundred t-shirts, and never wear any. I've switched to button down shirts and blouses, but I only have a few, and only one in white. I think that may be my next purchase, if you approve.

I believe the zipper is calling me. Talk to you soon.

I dreamed of you last night. You, and soft rope. I woke up smiling.

Two weeks and eleven minutes. Not that I'm counting or anything.

Thank you for my reward. I feel wonderful. My clit is throbbing, and my ass is burning, and I never want it to stop. Please fuck me in the ass when I see you. Please.

I made myself come, and then while I was fucking my ass, I used my fingers and made myself come again, all the while whispering (because I'm not alone in the house) "Please don't stop."

I love feeling this way.

Tonight I will be entertaining myself with my favorite long handled spoon, and my vivid imagination. With the very able help of someone I know, I have a lovely adventure planned.

This gentleman has the uncanny ability to know just exactly what is going to turn me on the most. And one of these days I mst ask him how he does it.
But he keeps a smile on my face all day long at work. Seems to be boding well for my future at the job. People are beginning to talk to me.

And I am getting my work done, even though I have to stop once in a while and close my eyes. Just for a while.

I'll let you know how things progress.

Maria is learning to make a formal. She is doing very well, and will be a seamstress in no time. For right now, she is cutting, pinning and sewing the straight seams. Certainly enough to make a nice skirt.

So I have a few minutes to talk to you. But I think I will start another entry. Just because.

I am looking forward to an evening of hemming a formal, pinning together a bodice, and masturbating like crazy.

If it wasn't for the fact that I have this deadline, I would have left here hours ago.

While I was in the store, (before I checked out) I picked up some red nail polish and a lipstick that should be called Harlot. (of course, it isn't)

Did I guess correctly on the lipstick?

Oh - I'm going to be packing soon. Shall I bring my new purchases? Or should I just hide them away in a drawer until they are needed again?

Let me know.

Hi there.
People either don't notice anything that goes on around them (and I just don't believe that) or they have remarkably little compassion for their fellow human beings. I even stopped on my way out of the bathroom to compliment a woman on her baby, and still nobody lifted a finger to do anything for me. People really suck. And yes, they are sheer. Really sheer. Can read through them sheer.

Out of the bathroom stall, washed my hands, walked over to the changing area and spoke to the woman with the baby. Walked out of the bathroom, past the cashiers, past the customer service area, past the area where they keep the carts to the exit.

Not a sound. Not directed at me, anyway. And believe me, I was listening for it. Had there been even a hint of a "Hey lady" I would have been covered in an instant. And yet, I found myself out in the parking lot. Crossing the little street to get to the area where the cars were. With people driving aroung looking for parking, and people leaving their cars and heading into the store. At least two cars drove past me from behind. And still, not a word.

I made it all the way to the car.

Have you ever spent any time in a software development office? The guys are playing golf in front of my desk as I attempt to write release notes.

Oh well. At least they all wear shoes. And they usually wear long pants. (shorts can be so distracting)

The putting green is directly in front of my desk. They have a document tube that they use in place of one of those mini-greens they sell for executive offices.

It sits next to me.

And we're considered pretty conservative, for a software company.

Good morning.

You used to tell me about your days. I miss that. I hope everything is all right.

Hi

I have finally gotten a few minutes with no formals, no interruptions. I'm looking forward to sharing my day with you.

First things first, I have to tell you that I only managed about ten minutes with the heels. But I did totter all the way into the mall, stopping in the middle of the street at one point because I was on the verge of falling over. I was wearing the maroon skirt with the butterflies, and it was just a bit windy. But that wasn't the problem. The problem was that I, oblivious as usual, parked the car and then put on the heels. So far so good, right? You might think so if you didn't see what happened next. I had my purse in the passenger seat of the car (a plymouth sundance) so I had to kind of half climb into the car to get it out. No problem. Nobody here. Guess again. One stall over, and one row in front of me, there was someone in his car. I don't know if he was getting much reading done, as he wasn't looking at the paper when I walked past.
So I am trying not to fall, and creeping across the street to the sidewalk. The parking lot? Pretty uneven. And pretty windy, but I just didn't care. All I cared about was getting to the sidewalk without falling on my face. It took three tries, with stops in between to get my balance, but I made it to the sidewalk, and the wall of the building. (I really do need an arm to lean on when in heels.)

As I was making my way down the wall, (and believe me, I was holding on) I began to feel a bit more easy about the heels. A bit.

Then I got inside, and there was no more wall to hold on to. I made it to the other side of the store, and figured out that my right foot was doing exactly what I wanted it to do, and that I could walk just fine in the heels if only I had two right feet. The left ankle keeps turning. I need to get into the gym and work on it. And if need be, I'll wrap it so it can't turn. I will wear those shoes. Now I'm mad.

I made an executive decision - I could wear the heels and accomplish nothing, or I could take them off, go back to the car, put on the tennis shoes I had worn to the gym and do the remainder of my tasks for the day. So I took the heels off, and carried them back to the car. Of course, now I'm really obvious. After all, how many women leave a mall carrying spike heels? And I had to walk past my newspaper friend again. And then sit there on the edge of the car seat putting on the other shoes.

It gets better, I promise.

I did go in and get some lunch. I had on my white button front blouse. Unbuttoned almost halfway. The guys at the food stand had a lovely view. As I bent over and got my condiments and straw. And then I found a seat nearby, facing the mall and most of the other seating. I kept my knees apart, and my skirt was several inches above them. I was also leaning over to write down the details so I wouldn't forget to tell you anything. I feel a bit bad about that, as the boys sitting at the next table were distracted from their lunch. And I don't think their mother was happy. At all.

The janitorial staff certainly made sure that the table and trash can immediately behind me was spotless, though. In fact, I believe the same man cleaned them at least three times while I was eating. At least three.

But all good things must come to an end, and I had window shopping to do. I went to Spencer gifts, and spent a bit of time looking at the sex toys. There were some couples in there buying gag gifts for someone's wedding shower. I considered bringing you a present, but decided walking in empty handed is better. Unless you disagree. Let me know.

Moving on, I went to the music store. There I met a helpful employee, who directed me to the music I was already looking at. Twice. He was cute, too. But young. They are all so young. Pity.

I did a bit more shopping (found some really cute, really sheer black panties. I'll have to go back and get them one of these days. But I've gotten so used to going without now that they are kind of uncomfortable.) and then headed out to the car.

The wind had picked up just a bit, and this skirt is both the most modest, and the lightest in weight. So it flies around a bit. Just a bit. Just enough that the entire parking lot saw what kind of stockings I was wearing. And there were a line of cars waiting for people outside the pharmacy at the time. Mostly men waiting for their wives, it looked like.

Home, and you already know the rest. I got him to go out because we needed to cut out the formal this evening. I am hoping to be asleep before he gets in, and to not get myself arrested for battery if he does come in here again tonight. (If you don't hear from me for a while...)

Talk to you soon. Sleep well.

I can never go to sleep again. He came into my room. In the middle of the night.
I swear to God, I would rather be dead.

I have to tell you this, and if you need to punish me for being too forward, then I will just have to jump off that bridge when I come to it.

I want you. I want you to touch me everywhere. I want you to fuck my ass, my cunt, my mouth, my tits. I want to feel closer to you than two people are capable of being.

I want you to want me. I lie awake at night hoping one day you will.

You make me feel.

I am yours.

Sometimes I feel that I am being terribly selfish. You have made my life so much better, so much more worth living. And I don't know anything about hjow to make yours easier. You rarely talk to me anout wht is going on with you, although you seem to delight in heaing all about my little life.

What can I do to make you happy? You make me happy in ways I didn't even know I was missing.

For now, I guess all I can do is thank you for coming back into my life. And for being you.

Speaking of obsessing, (yes, I know we weren't speaking of anything, but still...) I am beginning to feel a bit pressed because I don't have a list of items to pack for the trip. Ordinarily I would be packed by now. (And yes, I do know how strange that is.) (Thanks for noticing.)

Looking for suggestions.

Is it okay to bring something a bit, how shall I put this? A bit more modest, for meeting the wives of old friends?

Oh - Beth wants to go out drinking one night. If that is all right with you, I will set up a date with her. Possibly Thursday evening. Or Saturday maybe. When she's free. I was considering the little black dress I wore to the cocktail party last month. It is longer than you like, but the neckline kind of makes up for it. Let me know. And she wants to do some dancing, so if it is okay with you I will bring the lower heels with me to Ohio so I don't break anything on the dance floor. If not, I'll figure out how to manage on the high heels.

It has been years since I have been in that part of the country in September - will I need a coat? I know I won't while I am with you, but on the other evenings? Is it going to be cold at night?

So many questions.

I guess you really don't need to hear what I just got done saying here. I just needed to say it.

The release has been pushed back a week, so while it means more time will be spent on it, it takes some of the pressure to put in 12 hour days off. Better for everyone, I think.

Of course, that pushes into the time I had set aside to get things done for the next release, but that one isn't until March, so I guess there is still time.

How is your day shaping up?

In your email, you sounded pleased. I'm glad. It makes me happy to please you, even when portions of me aren't very happy at all.

My time is up. I finally have a bit of privacy, and so I can finish this punishment without having to hide. I'm scared. I know this is going to hurt, probably more than it did going in, because everything is so sore already.

I just have to do it, right? Then it will be over.

I'm back. And I am all right. Should I ever be required to perform this particular form of penance again, I will remember. More lube, less sitting at the computer describing it.

I am going to email you to let you know I have completed my punishment, and then I will be going to bed. I have to be at work in less than eight hours.

It is midnight. I have half an hour of punishment to go. I have to admit that I am more uncomfortable than I had thought I would be. I have taken 600 mg of motin, and am hoping that it helps soon.

Of course, the pain in my jaw doesn't help. But it isn't about that, is it? It is about being certain that I will remember.

Believe me, I will do my best never to make a mistake like that one again.

I am afraid of the pain when I remove it. It hurts now, but I know that the largest portion of it is beyond the ring of muscle, and will have to push the muscles aside to come out.

I wish you were here to hold me after.

It has been two hours, and I am getting really sore. I am going to move around a bit and see if that helps. But sore as I am, my nipples are still as hard as they have ever been, and I still get that electric feeling every time I think of you.

I will be back soon.

I left the office after I emailed you, and went to the corner of Montgomery and Sacramento. (I work on Montgomery, as you know.) I took the #1 Muni bus headed west, uphill, from that corner to the corner of Polk and Sacramento. It is about a 12 minute trip. (By bus. The hills would have taken at least 30 minutes to walk.)
The bus was crowded, although I did get a seat. I had to climb over someone to get off at Polk, and my skirt was stuck to my skin, and (of course) had managed to ride up to the pont that it was at least four inches above the knee, and possibly five.

I hopped off the bus, and headed back to the corner of Polk and Sacramento so I could find the store. Ah - there it was. On the other side of Polk, and about three doors from the corner. About now I am starting to become uncertain - was I going to be able to make myself go in? Yes, but only because the alternative, well, there is no alternative. Not one I'm willing to live with anyway.

I open the door, and much to my surprise, it is nothing like I expected. It is clean, and bright, and there is a little museum in the front. Wide aisles, nice displays. I walk to the back of the store, and a female employee comes up to me to ask if I need help. Right away. I tell her I am just looking, and she backs off. I go over to the book shelves, and start looking at some of the titles. They do seem to be into the educational aspect of things, as most of the books are practical how-to volumes. Including two volumes on anal sex for women. They were on the bottom shelf, so I had to bend over to look at them. Pity there weren't many people in the store, but I am hoping to go back sometime soon. I spent about half an hour looking around at everything they had (you wouldn't believe the selection of condoms! Just amazing.) and then began to look for what I had come to buy. Of course, it wasn't in the first six places I looked, and when the friendly female employee came up to me again, I looked over her shoulder and found them. The butt plugs. Several varieties, different shapes, some with a bend, some with multiple bead-like areas, one with a spiral. And the only one that came in sizes. Small, medium and large. Of course, the medium is larger than any of the other plugs with the exception of the one labeled Large, and I begin to wonder if I am going to get through the night ithout a lot of pain. ( And the answer to that is, No I'm not going to get by without pain.)

I also got some new lube, as I was unsure of the chemical makeup of what I had at home.

They gave me a catalog, with a list of the classes they offer. They have one on negotiation. I think it might be a good one, as I certainly could use it at the office. I capitulate too readily. Wind up volunteering for things I don't want to do.

I leave the store, and head west, to Clay street, to get the bus headed back toward Montgomery Street. The wind is blowing, and the skirt is riding up with every step. By the time I get on the bus, it is close to the tops of my stockings. Thankfully, I got a seat, but that didn't stop me from feeling as though the men were watching me, especially when I had to stand up to get off the bus.

It is four blocks back to the office, and by this point I am feeling almost indecently exposed. between the windy day, the walking, and the shortness of the skirt, I am surprised nobody said anything. I did notice a few people looking at me a bit strangely, and at least one of them works in my office. On the other hand, he was coming back from lunch at 3:00, so I guess he won't bring it up.

I went back in to the office and spent another two and a half hours working before I came home to complete my punishment.

I'm back, and now that my muscles have stopped screaming, it is pretty comfortable to be wearing your plug. Don't get me wrong - I will never forget it is there, but it is a fairly pleasant feeling of being filled, rather than the original feeling of being impaled.

And I haven't thanked you yet. Thank you. For caring enough to make sure I will think twice before speaking in the future, and for being careful enough to specify the medium rather than the large. It makes me feel special, that you care for me this way.

I'm going to submit this, and then tell you more about the store and my shopping trip this afternoon.

I will try very hard not to make the same mistake twice. It is in, but it took me half an hour to get it in. It was fairly easy until I got to the second swelling. That two inch diameter was just not going anywhere. I added more lube, and pretended it was you, fucking me. Hard, fast, then gentle and slow, and God, it hurt. I got it partway in, and it just wasn't going anywhere. and the muscles are still throbbing from being stretched so.

Again, I got a handful of lube, slathered it on, and just positioned the plug and began slowly sitting up. In this case, gravity helped. And finally relaxing a bit helped as well. However, it is definately a punishment. And I am going to remember it for a long time.

It is all the way inside me, and while the muscles are still not happy, I am glad to have even a surrogate part of you inside me. I will happily wear this for the remainder of the evening (I remember,minimum of four hours) and right now I'm willing to bet that I will be extremely unhappy when the time comes to take it out. Now that the muscles are beginning to calm down, I can enjoy the feeling of being filled by you, even as I continue to feel the pain of disappointing you.

Pretending that it was you fucking me in the ass is all that got me through this. But there was never a time I considered stopping without completing my punishment. I am just grateful that I had the opportunity to get to the store today and complete this rather than having to make you wait any longer. By the time you wake up in the morning, I will have described the entire punishment to you.

I am going to go to the kitchen for a moment, so I will submit this and write more when I return.

Well, I am about to get started on the final portion of my punishment. As I said before, medium? Not so medium any more. But I got it, and some lube that is supposed to be long lasting and good for use with this sort of thing, and can you tell I'm a little bit nervous? Yeah, I'm talking instead of doing. I know. I'll get started.

I'd ask you to wish me luck, but I guess that wouldn't be appropriate under the circumstances. It's supposed to be difficult. I know.

I'm glad you made it home safely. I worry too, you know.

I hope your visit was good, and that you had the opportunity to spend some time with your father. And step siblings - one day perhaps you'll tell me about them.

I'm in trouble at home again. This time, I came home earlier than expected. I can't win. But you already knew that.

Maria had a great time with her friends last evening in Placerville. Way too hot for me, but she seems to enjoy it. She got to be a fill-in officer for the first time, so she's just thrilled.

Another change in plans. I 'll leave the office at about 4:30, and head out to the Colma BART station which is where I park in the mornings. (at least until school starts)

Why? Because Polk Street is not Powell Street, and while I could easily walk from the office to the latter, the former is where I need to go. And even if it wasn't a couple of miles from here, it isn't in a neighborhood I want to spend time in after dark. Unless it is necessary.

Hope your evening is going well, and that you get plenty of rest before your drive tomorrow.

I'm just talking your ear off today, but there are a couple of things I need to get off my chest. Why does he delight in making us cry? What is it with him that he can't just let things go? For heaven's sake, she's a teenager. She is supposed to make snappy remarks and start to distance herself from dependence on us. But no, he has to threaten to take away the one thing that she has that is at all stable.

Ass.

yes, this would be one of the reasons I haven't had sex in almost six years.
Well, that and the whole "I'd rather be dead" thing.

I'm going to stop work at about four, and head up the street to do my shopping. I'll come back to the office afterwards, if I need to get some more done tonight. (Probably not a bad idea - may as well get as much of it out of the way as I can.)

Hope your day is going well, and that you have had an enjoyable drive North.

Oh - I just looked up the address for the place I decided to try (as the first place's website didn't look so promising) and while there is certainly no parking within a mile of the place, it is within walking distance from the office. All up hill, of course, but the exercise will do me good.

Have I thanked you lately for allowing me to continue to wear flats to the office? They will come in handy on the hill. Thank you.

My favorite song just came on. More later.

Hi There.

By now, you are halfway to Canton. I've just arrived in the office, and changed into my shopping clothes. I'm not sure if I reported that I had gotten one of the demi bras when I went out last weekend, but I did. In black. I thought that it might be a good choice for tonight's shopping trip.

Not a lot of support. I'm bouncier than I had expected. Although with a D cup, you really cannot expect half a bra to do much to fight gravity. So not entirely surprising, but still, a little strange for the office. Thank goodness today is a day most people work at home. (I would, but I can't get anything done there. With Maria and her friends and spouse there it is just too noisy.)

I'm having mixed feelings about the punishment. I know it is not going to be comfortable, to say the least, as medium has evidently gotten larger since I last shopped for this sort of thing. On the other hand, I am anxious and excited to be doing this for you. And to have this multi-part report waiting for you when you get home.

All in all, I think anxious and excited is winning out over dread. And yes, that includes the having to interact with strangers at the store. I'll let you know if there is any parking to be had within a six block radius of the place. (The odds are against it.)

Thought you might like to know. I just emailed you, and am writing this in my stockings and heels. Thankfullly I arrived to find the house empty. Maria is on a road trip with her friends, and spouse has evidently gone to his girlfriend's house.

Talk to you soon,

Safe trip.

Hi. Friend mode here. Why is it that you understand that I have to work late and (I can't even type what I want to call him right now.) cannot? It isn't as though he doesn't know plenty of people who work in software. And it isn't as though I haven't been keeping these kinds of hours for at least eight years now. So what the hell is his problem?
Okay, I'm done now. Back to the regularly scheduled whatever.
Thanks.

Hope you are having a good evening.

It is getting quiet here, and I figured a minute away from the notes wouldn't hurt my disposition.

The jaw is beginning to throb again. Time for more motrin. I wonder how much of the stuff I can take before it stops working.

My own damned fault. I know.

But still, it can quit hurting any time now.

Hi

Found a store. Advertised as for couples, so there should be a good assortment of people. (more difficult to find here than you might think.)

It appears to be pretty easy to access by car, so I will try to get there tomorrow evening. This evening, of course, will be spent in the office. Got to make up that time.

Question: evening, or over night? Daytime is difficult unless you intend me to wait for the weekend.

Also, should I be asking you before I make plans that don't involve Maria? We haven't discussed it, but it felt kind of strange going to see Matthew today.

The big moose of a cat? He just brought Maria a bird. A live one. And then he stood there and meowed for her to come and admire (and possibly eat) it.

I grabbed him, and she grabbed the bird. Bird is now back in the apple tree, and Artemis (the cat) is sulking.

Just another day in the land of the fruits and nuts.

testing, one, two, three...

Just to see if I have really run out of space on here. I can't believe I talk that much.

Um, about those heels... I'm practicing with them, and I do believe that while they make my legs look pretty good, they may have been created to ensure that women can never walk comfortably again.

I know I'm terribly short, and I must confess that I am shorter than I was when last you saw me, but I will be bringing extra shoes in case you actually want me to be able to walk someplace with you. I will continue to practice, and I do admit to being unused to heels. I'm sure it will get easier. But remind me not even to try to run. Just not happening. Ever.

But I am finally alone for a few minutes. Stockings, heels, writing to you... sounds like a wonderful way to spend the afternoon.

So, I'm in the car, and I'm pretty much naked, and I am more uncomfortable than I have been in a really long time. And if you don't understand why, take off your shirt and rub the shoulder harness across one of your nipples a few dozen times. You'll see. And that is nothing in comparison to driving into a neighborhood in San Francisco like that. Talk about difficult - I never did get at all comfortable, and it certainly didn't make me feel sexy. Alone, yes. Sexy? nah.

But I made it there in one piece, and I have come to the conclusion that the odds of somebody actually looking closely enough at me to see anything while I'm driving down the highway are slim to none. I mean, they exist, but looking at other drivers isn't really a pastime out here. Most people are too caught up in their own conversations (cell phones are everywhere.) to worry about looking around. In fact, that is one of the reasons it is so dangerous to drive out here. Nobody pays attention to what is going on around them.

Okay. Rant over.

Where to begin? I guess the beginning is as good a place as any.
I knew what the plan was for today, so I dressed accordingly, with the black skirt and the dark top. Stockings and black flats for shopping and the beach.
I left the house thinking there would be lots of fog, because there has been fog every day for weeks. But no, we didn't have fog last night. Instead, we had the coldest day at the beach in months. It was freezing. I parked near the pier, as usual, and got out of the car. Put my purse into the trunk - and then realized just how far that lovely little skirt had managed to ride up while I was driving. And the gentleman who was passing on the road behind the car noticed as well. It was rather embarrassing. By now, I'm covered in goosebumps from head to toe, so I did put on my jacket. It's pretty short, and I did leave it unzipped so my chest was thoroughly exposed. (And is now windburned, thank you very much.) But it has pockets, and stuffing my hands into them keeps me from touching the skirt. (There is a method to this particular bit of madness!)
I walked down the sidewalk, with a nice older couple behind me and I stepped aside to let them pass. Just needed to do that.
When I arrived at the end of the sidewalk and the beginning of the real seawall between the beach and the golf course, the wind had picked up, and everything wa pretty much flying. The flag was standing almost straight out, and so, for the most part, was my skirt.
Now, you need to be able to picture this beach. There is the usual flat sandy portion leading to the water where most of the fishermen and crazy swimmers spend their time. Then there is the seawall, mostly populated with fishermen getting to their spots on the beach, people bundled up as though a snow day had been declared, dog walkers (they are supposed to be leashed. Ha!) and me.

Down the embankment on the other side of the seawall is the golf course.
Normally, people walk out to the point on the side near the ocean and come back on the golf course side. Makes sense, right?

Getting back to my trek, I hear a girl calling a dog, and then I feel something. Something touching my skirt. Something lifting up my skirt. And sticking his (or her) head under it. This something was a golden retriever with a very cold, very wet nose. It was this dog the girl was calling. It was also this dog that slobbered all over my skirt. Pretty much rid me of any fears for this walk.

The rest of the walk was less eventful, although there was a gentleman on a bike who came around a couple of times, and there was this one guy who walked really slowly past me headed in the other direction, and just way too close. As I said, usually people headed out stay on one side, and going back the other. This particular man was within about a foot of me as he passed. Kind of creepy. And I don't know why. I mean, ordinarily I probably wouldn't have thought too much of it, but today it just struck me as strange.
I don't think the group of couples with their dogs was paying enough attention to actually see anything, but I made sure to get away from those noses pretty quickly. And that took me back to the sidewalk. And as I was headed toward the car, this little old woman came walking up to me and gave me the nastiest look. I relly didn't get it, and I kind of smiled, until I got back to the car and noticed that (in that light) the damned skirt is almost transparent. No wonder she was glaring at me. I might as well have been wearing nothing. (And yes, I would get arrested for that. Even here.)

So I retrieve my purse, which contains the candle you requested. I figure it's all over anyway, so what the hell. I pull out the candle after having gotten back into the car, and begin to masturbate with it. Now this is a fairly busy street, and a pretty full parking area. And in the next car over a couple (the man sitting closer to me) is having a picnic. So I'm rubbing my clit while this guy is eating his sandwich. Just struck me as funny. But every time a car went past, and every time the pigeons decided to suddenly take off, I got distracted. And you know that If I am going to have an orgasm, I have to really work at it. It just doesn't happen easily for me. So I got myself nicely frustrated, and managed to make myself a little sore to boot.

Eventually I gave up, and headed for the gas station to fill up the tank before I got onto the freeway. I decided not to go inside, as there was a lovely young man filling his tank directly across from where I would be paying at the pump. (This station, by the way, is one another busy street. And the pumps are withing spitting distance of that street. And yes, it was still windy. And I was still wearing almost nothing.)
So I managed to pretty much expose myself to half the population of my town this morning.

And then I went shopping for pretty underwear. Now, as I have explained, you have to wear panties to try on underwear. Yes, even to try on the kind I was buying. So before I left the house, I stuck a pair into my purse. (thank goodness for large purses.) When I got to the mall, I went into the bathroom and put them on. There was only one stall in the bathroom, and a very nice older woman patiently waited while I did so.. And I'm pretty sure she knew what I was doing, as the door wasn't very well fitted. Good sized gaps on either side of the doorway.

I went to the store, and the woman was delighted to help me. I found what I was looking for, and she helped me try it on. (There has to be a first for everything, right?) It does give me a waist, but I really need to spend the entire remainder of the month in the gym. I really just do.

But that is another story, for another day. I'm going to try to get some sleep tonight. And who knows... I might just pull out my favorite toy and do a little masturbating beforehand. In fact, I probably won't sleep unless I do, so I'm going to do just that. And if that isn't okay, I'm sure you'll let me know.

Hello.

I'm at a loss to explain this, but after years of being completely indifferent to sex of any sort (I know you might find that difficult to believe, but it is true. Boredom will do that to me.) I now find that I think of almost nothing else.
I must have pictured our meeting a hundred different ways. I have no idea what you will do or expect me to do, but I am hoping that at some point it will involve touching me in some way. Because if you don't touch me fairly soon, I may just burst. And it doesn't matter how you touch me. Shake my hand, grab my wrist, kiss me, bite me, suck my nipples, spank me... just touch me.
Much as I want to feel you inside me, and believe me, that thought keeps me up at night, I think I could be happy for the rest of my life if you just reach out and take my hand.

And once again I have company, so I will have to return to my imagination, and talk to you tomorrow. You will, of course, be with me in spirit as I shop for pretty things and go play at the beach.

This is going to be just a draft, and I am certain it will go through many revisions before I see you, but I need to start somewhere, so here goes.
(and I am avoiding using names, for all the obvious reasons, so I will substitute some appropriate term of endearment.)

Dearest,
I offer myself to you, to do with, or not, as you please. You have my heart, my body, my mind. I will be whatever you need me to be, for however long you desire. I will be your slut, your whore, your lover, your friend. I will obey your every command, comply to the best of my ability with your every request, accept your every suggestion. I will ask for nothing except the opportunity to be a part of your life, as you have always been a part of mine.
I will place no restrictions on you or on the relationship, as I believe in you and in your concern for me and I choose to trust in your judgement. I will ask that you hold my hand should you decide that third parties need to be brought into the picture. But (with the exception of animals, because, well, just because.) I will not ever refuse you. No matter what the cost.

And that, my dear, is the reality of this situation. I want nothing more than to be yours.

I'm in the office, so I can't write what I really want to say. But I miss your touch.

Evidently you are the only man left who reqads. Well, that isn't exactly true, there was one man in the bookstore. He was reading. Things were a little different at the gym, though. A young (very young) man offered me a bite of his burrito. I'm not sure I feel comfortable walking around half-naked there any more. It was strange, to say the least.
And that was after I managed to fall off the treadmill. Yes, I know. I need to be paying attention. I took my hands off the bars, because I wanted to scratch my wrist, and the next thing I knew, one of my feet no longer had anything under it. Oops. Luckily I caught myself, but I really do need to watch what I'm doing. Only a few snickers. This was followed by the gentleman with the burrito (I still think that was strange) and then the walk through the deserted parking lot to the car.

The fall from the treadmill was precipitated by the fact that instead of thinking about where my feet were, I was thinking about where I wanted your hands to be.

And I did catch the change to the third party limit. I can live with that, provided you don't leave me alone with anyone. And preferably you'll be holding my hand the whole time.

I'm still working on the wording, but hopefully by the time you get to read this I will have a draft of that document for you.

You can ignore this one as well. Just need to do a bit of screaming.

Where exactly does he think I am getting all this money he claims I am investing in real estate? Huh? He knows what the mortgage payment is. He knows how many other bills there are. What the hell is he going on about?

And when exactly did he start caring anyway? Not in recent memory.

This weekend I make a dress. And if I don't get to the gym soon, I am never going to fit into any of the things I want to wear next month.

And no, those two thoughts weren't related. Just blowing off steam. Tomorrow evening I have an engagement with Maria. Will be in Concord for dinner and an official visit. Then on Friday we have the regular meeting and Maria is having a friend stay over.

But Saturday is mine. I will walk by the beach, and go to the gym, and watch the ocean. And email. Hopefully in peace.

This is going to be ugly. Just letting you know. You don't have to read it, I just have to say it to somebody.
Please, God, make him leave me alone. I don't think I can stand it. And if he touches me again I may have to do something I will regret.
Why is he doing this to me? Is he really trying to make me insane? Because it is working. I am just about to lose my mind. I can't read my email, or write anything, or do anything without getting the third degree.
And it isn't as though he cares, because we all know he doesn't. I am sorry if his girlfriend isn't there for him (as appears to be the case, at least at the moment) but that doesn't mean I want him hanging around. I shouldn't have to tell him more than once that I would rather be dead, should I?

And somehow I thought that would make me feel better. It didn't.
I think I will just go to bed and dream of you. At least that feels good.

Good evening. Lots to tell you about. I had a very strange time this evening. It started at the office, when I had to take off the shirt I had on and replace it with the office shirt (I only own a couple of button front shirts.) And if we are going to be continuing this particular set of instructions on a frequent basis, I need to get some new underwear. The bra I had on today pinches. I left the office, took the train to the car, and went shopping. I did pull the skirt up as far as I could to drive, and if you recall, I almost always drive with my left knee bent and the foot flat on the floor, so the skirt doesn't cover much of anything. Just the way I am comfortable driving.
As far as the shirt is concerned, I am afraid you may have forgotten just exactly how large these breasts are. When the shirt is unbuttoned as far as you have me unbuttoning it, there isn't any way to avoid having them show. In fact, I keep expecting compliments on my birth mark. (You do remember the birth mark, don't you?)

Well, I got to the shopping center, and sure enough, as I finished getting out of the car, what did I see? Oh yeah, the guy in the next row of cars standing there watching me get out. So this is two days in a row that I have embarrassed myself. And of course, I still have the shopping to do. Could he and his wife be going to a different store than the one I am headed into? Hell no. That would mean I didn't have to keep seeing him for the next half hour as I got the pattern and material. Can't have that, now can we?
And they were just ahead of me in line to check out. Me, with my chest hanging out, and him with his wife. Thankfully the cashier was female, and totally disinterested.

For my next feat, I go to the bookstore. I figure if I have to be uncomfortable, I may as well do it someplace I enjoy. So I spent an hour wandering around the bookstore. I almost got a book on how to be a bad girl, but I figured it would be difficult to explain when I got home, so I went for a mystery instead. There were several male patrons, including one who was looking at some of the same books I was, but no male cashiers. Well, there was one, but evidently he was on a break. I know this, because the female cashier was complaining about his absence while taking my money.
So only one really close encounter, but lots of time spent feeling more exposed than I do if I just skip the bra entirely. Isn't that strange? I feel more vulnerable with the bra turned down than I do without one. I wonder why that is. All I know is that I had a hard time leaving the bathroom this evening. And yes, I was still out when you wrote. I left the office at a little after six. Got home a bit after eight.

Read your email. Fell for you all over again.

And that may be the scariest thing that has ever happened to me.

Hi

I don't think I've told you recently how much I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I can't tell you how good it felt to get up this morning and see your name in my inbox. I didn't expect you to think of me so soon after you got home. It was a lovely surprise.

Just thought you should know.

Okay, you said to write what I was thinking. So here goes.

You have turned me into the female version of a sixteen year old boy. It is a bit disconcerting to be thinking of sex in the middle of meetings with a bunch of engineers, none of whom is the least bit my type. But it does make the meetings go faster. Or they seem to go faster, anyway.

As it turns out, I do have stops to make on the way home this evening. I was planning to go to the gym, as I am feeling the need for a nice long walk on the treadmill, but the newest plan is to make new dresses for the girls, so I have to get to the store and pick up fabric, a pattern, zipper, etc.

This will put me right smack in Home Depot territory, so I will probably go and take a look at the paint chips. The house needs to be painted this fall. (Summer is too damp.)

It will be interesting, I imagine. Hell, it is already interesting.

And now I am going to attempt to get some actual work done. For a while, anyway.

And I thought I was doing pretty well, all things considered.

The database is down, so I have a bit of free time on my hands today until they get things straightened out.
I'm getting a bit ahead of the game with the notes for this release, as a direct result of staying in the office late every day last week. I really should do it more often. But now that Maria is home, there will be other things to occupy my time. The company will just have to understand. (The odds of that happening? Too small to calculate.)

There are a thousand things I want to say to you, and I find myself hesitating. I don't know what you want to hear. Everything? Nothing? What?

I'm glad you had a good time. Cruising is one of the most relaxing things I have ever found. I'm sorry you didn't feel well part of the time. But I am sure it was just one of those passing things, and won't stop you from enjoying your vacations in the future.

Just got your email. Makes me smile every time your name comes up on the screen.

Can I scream soon? Please?

If he doesn't leave this house tonight, I may have to do just that.

Hope your day is going better than mine. Although I did get some great shoes. There was a gentleman working there, but the last thing on earth he wanted to look at was me.

On the other hand, you probably haven't stopped laughing from my last post yet.

Go ahead, laugh some more. I can take it.

This should amuse you no end. I went out to look at pretty underwear today. As you no doubt already know, you have to wear underwear to try on underwear. Just one of those things. So, today, for the first time in a week, I wear panties.
I get to San Jose, (a fifty mile drive) and go into the mall. I need to use the ladies room, and so I go find it and use it. Then I walk around the damned mall for at least an hour. Because I was being good (and believe me, it took an effort) I didn't smooth down the skirt after I got up. I should have.

I took off my denim shirt (thank goodness for long shirts) and almost immediately a lovely woman told me that my skirt was caught in my panties. I had by then been walking around that way for at least (as I said) an hour.

Quit snickering.

Okay, it is a little bit funny, and it is surely my own fault. However, it was mortifying at the time, and I just keep telling myself how good an idea it was to shop down there today, because none of those people are ever going to see me again.

Hope your flight went well.

Good morning.

I owe you an apology again. I've been blathering on about what I am going to wear when I go out with Beth, and when I go to see our mutual friend, when we both know what needs to happen is that I bring a selection og things and you will decide what is appropriate for those occasions. Too used to makein these deisions just based on my own comfort level. I am sorry.

I am trying. I did find a way to include the stockings and no panties look into the affair I attended yesterday,. We wound up coming home early because the woman we rode out there with had a problem with her knee, but it was a good day for the most part.

I am hoping you received nothing but good news on your return, and that your family is all doing better.

Soon, I hope.

Hi.

Okay, I lied. I couldn't wait until morning for this. It always takes longer than I expect it will. I keep finding myself giving up, or feeling like giving up, and then continuing because I know you want that orgasm. Not that I don't, but I work at it for you where I never did for myself.

I can't tell you how difficult it is being quiet, though. I was biting my lip trying not to wake her (she can sleep through the smoke alarm, but you never know) when all I wanted to be doing was screaming for you to touch me, to fuck me, to fill me. Imagining you is what gets me off. Thinking of being with you, under any circumstances, for any amount of time. God, to hold your hand across a table over coffee. That might be enough to last a lifetime. Or it could set me up to never be able to concentrate on anything else again. But that is a risk I will be delighted to take.

As I said, risk is sexy.

So are you.

Sleep well.

Not much to report this evening (or morning, as the case may be). Maria is home, and has informed me that my new skirts are too short, so I guess I did manage to pick the right ones.

I was extra careful to make sure that I was following instructions thei evening on the way home, because it becomes more difficult now that she is here. I will continue to follow your directions, of course, but may have to make a few small changes... especially on Saturday, when we go out with her Rainbow friends. But I know you have already said this is okay.

I will also have to wear panties on the day that I go out to get the new underwear. One of the rules... you have to have underwear on to try on underwear. Just the way it works. But I will be going all the way down to San Jose for that, so the car trip should be interesting anyway.
And I can carry them in my purse until I get to the store. That will work.

Last night was not an unqualified success. I slept, but it was very uneasy, and I woke up with an old Elvis song running through my mind - Return to Sender.

Chilling.

I'm a little bit sore, but will (now that she is asleep) find something to masturbate with tonight. Maybe an old favorite, as I am a bit sore, and it is quite late. I'll let you know in the morning. Hopefully I will have some time by myself then.

Any number of things on the agenda this morning.

The boss spent yesterday talking to a vendor from India about oursourcing writing jobs. She has already told me mine will be one of the first to go. Just because of what I work on. (Joy.)

Spouse has suddenly decided that I have been spending 16 hour days in the office just to avoid being at the house. And he hopes I won't continue to do so after Maria gets home.
A. I have a deadline. He knows this.
B. My job is on the line. I have been hanging on by my fingernails for a couple of years. He knows this too.
C. Okay, part of it is that, but geez, the other things are true too.

I have to get out of this line of work. It is what gave me the damned ulcers in the first place.

Talk to you later.

Not working. Large banana? Not much in the way of fun. Perhaps my mood wasn't as elevated by the workout as I had hoped. Or prehaps I am just not a fruit person.

Either way, the drive home was horribly uneventful, as everyone was as intent on driving as I. Not even a glance. Just a bust all the way around today. Perhaps a nap is in order, and I can try again later.

Probably for the best.

Sorry.

I think I will go to the gym tonight. If I am going to be beating myself up, I can at least do it on a treadmill rather than with chocolate.

Yes?

I thought you'd agree.

It is Wednesday. Normally my favorite day of the work week. Very few people in the office, no meetings, everything pretty quiet.

So why do I have the sudden urge to get myself a pint (a pint, mind you) of strawberry hagen daz for lunch?

I think Maria has been gone too long, although she will be home tomorrow afternoon. I miss her. She's a good kid.

I miss you too.

Thinking of you.

And wishing I had thought to tell you to take a really warm coat. (I live on the coast, remember? I know how cold it gets.)

Hello again, my friend.

Tonight I made myself come just thinking about you wanting me. But that was always the biggest turn-on. The very idea that you might want me again, or still, is almost more than I can take. It propells me to keep trying when I might otherwise give up. It makes me masturbate with various kitchen items, one of which has a nicely rounded handle. And it makes me have orgasms sitting in the office reading your emails.

Tonight I gave myself an orgasm rubbing my clit, fucking myself with the spoon handle. Imagining your hands on me, your dick inside me. Harder and faster, until I couldn't wait any longer. And then I slid it gently inside my ass, pushing just a bit, twisting,
Then a bit more, and soon I was pushing back onto it as well. It felt so good inside me, almost like having you there. I wanted to keep it there forever, to feel you inside me all the time. I can't think of anything I want more than for you to have meant every word you wrote. I want you to be in me everywhere, all the time. I want to feel you, to know that you are with me. In me. A part of me.
And that I am a part of you. That you know I would do anything for you. Anything with you.

That I want you to be the one fucking my ass. And my cunt. And I want to feel you while we go out, and while we dine, and while we dance. I want you inside me all those times.

And these are the things I dream of.

Hi
I managed to get home from work without incident. This morning was a bit of a trip. After spending a couple of hours with the dentist (and by the way... I had forgotten how much a short skirt rides up when they lay you down in that chair!) I made my way to the train station. Even with my jacket on and zipped most of the way up to my neck, there was a difference. I'm just not used to strangers looking at me. And certainly not to having them change where they are standing to watch me go around a corner. Little freaky. (lot freaky.) And that was without him being able to see the top that has a neckline I can't realistically wear into the office. I know that I will get used to it, with practice, but it is more unsettling than I had expected. And then the guy with the guitar on the way home... he was strange. I had the jacket open, because it wasn't cold, and the skirt was, well, higher than I really think is necessary, and this young guy with a guitar (and no, I don't know why that is important to the story, it just is.) walks up the sidewalk and says "Good evening" as he walks by. Nobody talks to you in the Financial district. Not unless they know you. And not at rush hour. (It wasn't seven yet.)

Then I walked in the door. You don't even want to know. Let's just say that it wasn't a hit. Didn't really think it would be, but really, the look on his face said it all.

And before I get off onto a rant you don't want to hear, I will bid you good night.

I'll write again later.

Ask me what I was thinking. About being too happy when I see my friends.

It is late, and I should be sleeping, but I wanted to talk to you before I go to bed. I know that I need to shop for produce tomorrow, as I have completely run out of things that aren't pointy, but I might just be getting the hang of this.

It only works if I really concentrate. Not on what I'm doing, but on who I'm talking to. It matters what I do, but it doesn't seem to matter as much as who I picture. Interruptions are deadly. And any hint of you know who just spoils the mood.

My taper from the other evening was the object of choice. As I stated, I have run out of non-pointy things. It is amazing how many items have points. The things you just don't think about, you know? Any way, I have learned my lesson, and am applying lubricant liberally. Very liberally. It makes things work better. And the particular angle at which the rubbing of the clit occurs - more important than you would think. And yes, this is all very clinical. But I don't really have words for how it feels. You know that I am wired a bit funny, and so some of the sensations I feel are, shall we say, unusual?

I know that I am well on the way when the soles of my feet start to burn. How's that for strange? And the finger marks on the inside of my thigh? They have neighbors. But you are with me the whole way. In fact, I spent a bit of time begging you to fuck me this evening. And yes, I do know you are nowhere near here. At least not in body. But the occasional thought is (it seems) enough.

So there we are. I'm headed to bed, to dream of whatever is to come. Have a wonderful night.

It is funny, the things you think about when you do little but think. For years (longer than I can really remember) I have been frightened of strangers. Did you know that? Or was I still not afraid of anything when we last met?

Anyway, I'm tracking down what made me so afraid. It all boils down to that flight to Paris. That was the beginning of it, anyway. There are always more parts to something like this, but yeah, that flight started it all. It also started the feeling that nobody in that town really cared about me. Funny. You know what you feel, but it is really hard to pin down why.

It is a start.

Thank you. Again. For being my friend, and for making me think.

Well, it is Sunday. And I am disappointed in my performance last night, but I learned something, so that makes the experience worthwhile, right?

The party wa a success, anyway. I wore that little black dress, and surprised everyone who knows me. Of course, the fact that the straps kept sliding down my shoulders and the already low neckline kept getting lower may have added to their surprise.

Hi
I wish I could just pick up the phone and call you right now. It isn't something I think about often, but right now it certainly would be nice. No, I haven't lost my mind. I have been at a party, and have overindulged just a bit. Not enough that I can't proof read this, but enough that I am going to be going to bed fairly early tonight. And I may be skipping any number of things I should be doing, in favor of getting safely to bed.

The party was a great success, and I talked to a number of people both from the office and from the real world. It was lots of fun, but I need to remember to eat before I go to these things.

About last night, it was indescribable. (I am just not sure about the spelling there, but you know what I mean.)
It's like an earthquake. Not the sharp, sudden ones that are over in a second. It was like the other kind... the ones that kind of roll through. Wave after wave, for what seems like a really long time, even though it probably isn't. And this is another one of those things that really needs eye contact to describe properly, but wow. That's really all I can say.

Well, that and I remember now why it was so imperative that I be alone in the (very small) house to attempt this. I'm not the quietest person in the world, am I? And I managed to leave fingerprints on the inside of my thigh, so as a suggestion - you might want to have something for me to grab, if this sort of thing is among those you have planned.

(And I don't know how to explain those at the gym.)

But still, wow.

And now, sleep. Before I find myself falling asleep half naked on the couch.

Oh- I may use an old reliable rather than hunting for something new tonight. I know, but it seems that everthing I own is pointed. And I have had quite a bit to drink this evening. Might be a dangerous combo.

And I know you don't want me to get hurt.

Hope you are having a wonderful time.