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This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. Obviously it started out as a blog about my cross-dressing but it has developed a great deal since then. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.

It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the New Readers' Page above this and the tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!

Friday, 20 September 2013

Riding Bitch

I'd do that. You know what I think about gender roles by
now, I hope.
Toby once asked if I would ride side-saddle with her if she got a motorcycle. I said yes. Tonight I explore, in fiction, what that would be like. It counts as a fantasy, I suppose, so it's beyond the line-break. In the meantime, may I share that wearing tights, 100 denier, beneath my floaty skirt is a very nice experience and very warming. I am tempted to wear them beneath my night-dress/chemise thing for a night's sleep, see what that brings.

Tilly's had a bad stomach and a few nights with the kiddlies in bed with her. It's been a fraught week trying to sort house stuff and angry children and the fact that our moving has been delayed by shitty solicitors.


"Well what?"

She smiled a bit, on the side of her mouth, her eyes twinkling. "I bought a bike." Gesturing behind her at the small moped on the drive she ran a hand through her hair. Leather creaked on her coat and she brandished her helmet out hopefully. "You like?"

I looked past, more for effect than for actually wanting to see the bike, there was no mistaking her pride and her excitement. "I think you like, so I like. You're happy with it?" Again, this was formality, of course she was happy and there was no way of hiding it. Her whole body was smiling, from the way she stood in the chunky rock boots to the slight blush on her cheeks as if she had been running. Almost against herself she ran her hand through her hair again, letting the light catch the blue of her spectacles, and looked back at the back. "No, you're happy with it, so I'm happy for you."

She turned back to look at me, that playful smile back at the side of her mouth, and her eyes twinkling with a different kind of amusement. "You're free for the day, aren't you?"

It was a weekend, I was visiting her, of course I was free for the day. But her asking meant that she wanted me to confirm it and that usually meant that she had something on her mind. "Yes, I'm free. Go on, what have you got planned this time?" I was smiling too, I knew that this could go one of two ways but I also knew that she liked to play this sort of game - it was her way of showing love.


"You said that already."

"You promised!"

"I probably did, it would help if you could remind me what exactly I promised so that I know which one I'm going to keep. I promised to love you forever and I promised to cook you steak. I'm happy to do both of those right now, but I don't know how they're connected to you getting a bike."

"Ha ha," despite the sarcasm she was slightly amused, you could tell by the cocking of her head, "No, you're right, it's the bike. You promised you'd ride with me."

I was never a biker type, the allure was there, sure, but I was also keenly aware of the dangers. That slightly autistic part of myself that refused to let sleeping dogs lie when people were wrong on the internet was also keen to let me know all the statistics about death on bikes. And then there was the fact that riding with her would mean letting her take that charge, of putting my life in her hands, physically. As much as I trusted her and as much as I was prepared to do that, there would be problems letting go.

"Oh, I see, well, I have ways of making you deliver." She walked over and took me by the hand, "Follow me."

I loved it when she did this sort of thing, we took it in turns to be dominant in the relationship, to force a kiss and to hold the other down or against the wall. She was physically stronger and larger than me but I was taller and had greater stamina. In any proper grappling I had the advantage because I was more tenacious and because I wasn't ticklish. In terms of mental stuff she had an edge because I always wanted to give way. This meant she was taking her turn, which I suppose was the point of getting the bike.

Going to her room she motioned for me to sit on the bed and she went to the wardrobe. "I was saving this for a special occasion," she murmured, "I guess this is special. Wear this." She threw me a short dress.

I wasted no time, we indulged this from time to time, and in return she gave great sex and looked after me. When she needed time to work without distractions I would make sure she was secured so she couldn't escape in return. It was a mutually beneficial kink we shared.

"You'll need a hat, oh, and these heels. Yes, I checked, they're in your size."

"You thought this through."

"I figured I'd need it." She laughed.

Once dressed, she took me back downstairs, handed me a bag and motioned to the bike. "You said you'd ride with me. Now, wearing that, I think you should ride side saddle."

I didn't argue.
Lovely, isn't it.

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