Emily

I was really, really looking forward to the weekend, really looking forward to making love to Emily. I was really, really looking forward to seeing her in the new babydoll I bought from her from Victoria's Secret (like a month ago which she still has not worn for me!) Yes, I have a thing for lingerie, duh.

Anyway, so Friday, she was out with some girlfriends at one of their homes for a regular monthly dinner and was going to call me when she left so I could meet her at her place. Well, she did not get out of there until almost 11:00, and by the time I got to her place it was 11:30. Almost midnight when we were getting dressed for bed.

I put on a satin camisole and tap panty set to sleep in, pulled out the babydoll for her. "I'm not wearing that tonight," Em said in the voice that left absolutely no room for discussion. "I'm exhausted."

Well, part of being submissive is that you don't always get what you want. Sometimes, I just have to obey. I sighed, inside, and thought, "yes, Ma'am." We climbed into bed, her naked, me in my satin set, cuddled, talked, and went to bed.

Saturday, I made the mistake of waking her up, when she told me not to wake her in the morning. So, she was mad at me for about half an hour. We got over that quickly. I apologized for waking her up. She made me some toast and coffee. We showered, dressed, went out to do some shopping.

"If you buy me a cup of coffee I'll screw you tonight," she said in the car with a naughty smile on her face.

I turned and looked at Emily who had a big smile on her face. I think I broke several traffic laws driving to a coffee shop.

Later, after dinner with a couple of friends, and a movie, we finally, finally, at midnight, climbed went up to her bedroom. I had the babydoll set out on her dressing table, was off getting myself ready for bed, then came into the bedroom. The babydoll was still on the dressing table, but she was in bed. "You're not wearing it," I asked, hurt creeping into my voice.

"No, my stomach is really bothering me tonight," she said with a slight frown, her lip sticking out slightly. I said nothing, turned out the light, climbed into bed, but my arm around her, kissed her, said goodnight.

A minute. Two. Three. "Now you're going to be mad a me," she asked quietly in the dark.

"I'm not mad, Em." I wasn't. Not really.

"But you're not talking."

"I'm not mad, Emily," I said again.

"You're not talking, though?"

"I'm not mad, I'm disappointed."

We had a ten minute discussion. I wasn't mad, I was disappointed. I wanted to make love. I'd thought about it all day. I wanted the intimacy, the closeness. It wasn't just sex, it was the absolute amazing feeling I felt, emotionally. "I don't want to have sex, Emily, for the sake of sex. I want to have sex with you, the woman I love."

She was hurt that I was hurt. "I told you, my stomach is killing me, don't you understand, it isn't that I don't want to have sex, I really, really did earlier, but, hon, I'm sorry, it hurts."

We just said nothing for a few. "Hon, it isn't that I don't want intimacy, too. Why...why don't we make out? Like when we first started dating," she said, turning towards me. "Remember our first few dates, before we first had sex? The pent up sexual desire of making out without sex? I want intimacy, too, but I can't have sex tonight. But I'd love to make out with you." She moved her hand to my face, stroking it. "I want to make out with you, lover," she said tenderly.

I almost started to cry. "I...I'd love to make out, Em," I said touching her hair.

"No sex," she said.

"No sex," I agreed.

"Like when we first started dating."

"Yes," I smiled.

"Hon, why...why don't you light a candle and, bring me that present, I'd love to wear it for you if you want."

I jumped out of bed, lit a candle and brought her the babydoll. I started to climb into bed, still naked myself. "Wait," she said, "just a second." Em walked to her closet, got something, came back into the room. "Here, I want you to wear something for me."

I expected her to hand me either some of her favorites of my lingerie or a gift she bought for me.

It was a gift. It was not what I expected. I thought pretty, feminine lingerie. It was lingerie. It wasn't the type of lingerie she usually bought. She handed me a pair of panties. "Here, I bought these for you, sweetie."

I took them, looked at them in the candle light. They were a pair of plain white panties. These:

"Um, thanks, Emily," I said, the confusion evident in my voice.

"I told you I didn't want to have sex tonight; I just want to make out."

"Okay," I said, the strange tone in my voice betraying my true feelings, that I too really wanted to make out.

"I know how sometimes when I tell you I'm not in the mood, you have this way of seducing me, licking me for an hour, and screwing me when I can't resist anymore." She was right. That had happened on a number of evenings.

"So," I said with a guilty look. "You know I'm always happy to go down on you without screwing you."

"Yea, but somehow we almost always screw. I don't want to, tonight, I mean it. I really want the intimacy, I want to make out, but my stomach hurts, I don't want you pushing things."

"Okay," I said, really agreeing.

"Put those on, sweetie," she said.

I nodded my submission, my ascent, and started to step into the panties. Wow, I was surprised, they were tight. Not too small, but tight. These were not just regular panties, I knew these were shapeware, a pair of girdle panties.

"Tuck yourself, Sara," Emily said. It started to dawn on me. She wanted me to tuck. To take my balls, push them up into my stomach, to take my flaccid penis, push it behind me. A crossdresser's tuck. "Pull the panties up tightly, hon."

And thus dressed, we climbed into bed and she immediately started to kiss me. Long, deep, wet, passionate kisses. We kissed and made out. We touched each other's skin, lightly, dancing as we kissed.

And with each kiss, I realized why she wanted me to wear these panties. I could not grow, I could not swell. The panties were a crude form of chastity. Pretty, functional, tight so I could slightly swell, but not really harden.

As we kissed, as we got lost in passion, with every touch of her lips, with every stroke of her fingers on my skin, I throbbed. Each kiss shot electricity, passion, erotic charges, to my trapped penis, my trapped...clit.

Each kiss. Each touch. I wanted her more and more. But it would not happen, it could not happen.

We kissed for an hour, gently, roughly, passionately, tenderly. With each kiss, I jumped, throbbed. But no more. That was all.

I fell asleep that night, spooning my beautiful girlfriend, wanting her terribly, but feeling so happy, so thrilled.

We did not make love, but we completely made love. By denying me an orgasm, by making me focus simply on kissing her, I wanted her more and more.

I fell asleep, still throbbing. I fell asleep touching her skin. I fell asleep, touching her breast through the delicate fabric of her babydoll.

I fell asleep happy. I fell asleep in love. I fell asleep denied.

I fell asleep with the woman I love more than any other.

I fell asleep her slave, her sissy, her lover, her friend.