From SaraSissyGirl Blog








NSFW

(pictures added -ed)

January 22, 2013 first

Stare at her pussy all you want, but you're never getting past her feet, sissy.



 

Posted by Saragirl at 11:12 AM 1 comments  

Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest

Maison Lejaby: The Summer 2013 Couture collection











Source | Lingerie Blog by Petite Coquette

 

Posted by Saragirl at 10:51 AM 0 comments 

Monday, January 21, 2013

Why? I don't know, there's just something I like about teasing you until you beg me to stop.



 

Posted by Saragirl at 11:37 AM 0 comments  

Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest

I guess I'm in a "caught" mood.

They were supposed to kidnap the CEO, who was supposed to be home alone, and were stunned to find him gone, just a maid there instead. From sheer panic, they took her along, have not yet discovered that the maid IS THE CEO.



 

Posted by Saragirl at 11:12 AM 1 comments  

Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest

More on the "caught" theme

"Next time we sneak into a gangster's headquarters, you're the one dressing as a girl!"



 

Posted by Saragirl at 11:09 AM 0 comments  

Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest

Working undercover as a woman seemed like a good idea...until he got caught.



 

Posted by Saragirl at 11:07 AM 2 comments  

Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest

Open House




"So, the home comes with all appliances: washer, dryer, refrigerator, stove, microwave, and dishwasher," the real estate agent told the couple walking through the elegant Victorian home.

"What about her," the well dressed man asked.

"Um, I know it's rather unusual, I...I never had a listing like this before, but that...that's actually the owner's, um, husband...um," she looked down at the listing sheet, "a sissy, I guess he...she's called. She was insistent that he...she...be left on display during any showings."

The woman looking at the home squeezed her husband's arm. "We know she's a sissy," she said, eyes brimming with the thought of possibilities, "we're asking if she comes with the house."

"I...can't imagine," the agent stammered, ashamed that she had to show the house with such a thing on display, looked to the listing sheet again. "Oh...OH!"

"What," the woman asked.

"It says...it says...it's negotiable."

Her husband had wandered over to the tied sissy, let his hand wander to the crotch rope, tugged at it. "Are you pre or post op," he asked.

"Hmmmggfff," she groaned through her gag.

"Silly me, of course. Do you still have your sissy clit?"

The sissy nodded, eyes fluttering as the rope tightened on her tucked organ.

"Does it still grow?"

She nodded again, eyes begging.

"Sandra," he turned to his wife.

"I want it, Richard, the house. The sissy, too."

"You're sure?"

"Oh, I'm sure, Richard, I'm sure."

Posted by Saragirl at 10:35 AM 2 comments  

Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest

Just so one thing's clear, love, that little sissy clit of yours is NEVER going inside me



 

Posted by Saragirl at 10:22 AM 1 comments  

Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

March 1 2022

September 18, 2013

September 25, 2013