Reflections on Being a Good Sissy Cuckold

I think being a real sissy (as opposed to a fantasy sissy if there is such a thing) carries with it an entire state of mind. We may be male, but our minds work differently than a man's. I may be a male, but I'm definitely NOT a "man." It's one thing to occasionally wear a pair of panties or some lingerie. It's one thing to be locked up in a chastity cage. It's one thing to have your wife call you "Lauren" or talk to you as a sissy gurl when you're in bed at night and you're between her legs licking her pussy. It's one thing to hear your wife say "I want a MAN to fuck me..."

Don't get me wrong... Those things are incredible.

But when your wife comes home after having sex with a REAL man... And when you spend the next hour or so between her legs licking her pussy whilst being dressed en femme. Ahhhhh. That's about as real as it gets.

When I picked my beautiful wife M up at the train station and she told me what she had done, a burst of adrenaline immediately shot through me and I almost had to pull over to the side of the road. Emotionally I was thrilled beyond belief. I felt a sense of utter contentment. Of absolute peace inside.

And at the same time, I felt closer and more in love with my wife than I ever had before.

And I wanted to somehow convey that feeling of love to her. To convey how happy and in love with her I felt at that instant. That very moment.

The act of her cuckolding me was an explicit affirmation... A black-and-white acknowledgement by her that she recognized and accepted me for who and what I am...

Not... A... Man...

I am a sissy with a tiny, gurly clitty.

I love it. I am so incredibly happy with it. I want to be and do all the things that a good sissy gurl should do.

From my previous trip down memory lane, you'll no doubt see that M thoroughly enjoyed not only her first date with James but also her second, which took place two days later. This reinforced my "sissy sense" and confirmed for M that I was not merely content with what she had done but that I was truly happy with it. We talked at length about her dates with James and, after a bit of unease at being completely descriptive about it, she shared more details about their two get togethers, all the things they did, and how good he made her feel. I think there was still some (very understandable) angst on her part - I had been her only "male" lover for decades. But I gently probed and got her to open up and to admit that he was better as a "Man" when making love with her than I was... MUCH better. This came as no surprise to me, but getting her to SAY it was a real breakthrough for her and (I think) helped her to remove some of her remaining doubts about me.

For days, I was running on a real emotional high. Wearing my most sissy-like things every day and taking every opportunity to have gurl-girl sex with M. And every time, continuing to reinforce her mental picture of James as a MAN and me as her sissy gurl with a locked-up gurly clitty between my legs.

And then I went overseas again and (because of my project there) fell into my very typical deep funk. Not only was it impossible for me to wear the things that felt right to me, but I also was unable to spend any time between M's legs licking her pussy and making her cum. Talk about torture! And it seemed (as it always does still) that our daily calls - while being a lifeline for me - were also torturous. They served as constant reminders of our separation.

My trip was 24 dreadful days... Almost a month... Purgatory...