I treat them with respect and usually keep my urges to myself.My point is that I don’t think they know the urges that they create in men (or at leas... me) by the way that they dress.The problem is that most women do not want to be treated that way (and I’m fine that). However, it is disappointing when your expectations do not meet with what you actually get.Now, let’s look at a sissy. Again, this is from my perspective; yours may be different.As a sissy, I realize that my role is to serve and. Think you might give me a ride?" she asked."Sure, I need to stop buy some discount department store for some clothes. Those are going to wind up on your bill. I need a black running suit. I can drop you at the airport at the same time." I said."You know I didn't really need to know all that, but now I'm curious. What do you need with a black running suit?" she asked."It's what all the well dressed spies are wearing this year," I said with a smile."Sylvia be careful please," Happy said as she. .. like all the way until it's proper in your mouth?" If that's what it takes," I sighed, with a weary shrug."Alright then, kneel down in front of me," he told me. His voice was shaky: he was really agitated about wanting this. I wasn't sure if his nervousness stemmed from the fact he really did fancy girls but none of them had obliged him orally, or if he was actually gay but had never had the guts to explore it.I rather suspected the latter from the way he was trembling and the sweat that was. The woman had long dark hair and glasses. Did you see her?"I peered at her quizzically, not understanding what she was going onabout. She was talking about me. Why was she so confused? I was righthere.Then I realised I wasn't wearing my glasses anymore.I reached up to my face. They were gone, but I could see fine. My visionshould have been a total blur but it wasn't. I could see everything!The waitress was getting impatient but I ignored her, looking round therestaurant garden in wonder. I.