Romance and Amazon

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Hey girls, it’s me again, Mélanie. Okay, fine, Guillaume is still lingering somewhere in the back of my mind, but with my soft little thong on and my dress drying after my first adventures with Benjamin, I think we can agree I’m still Mélanie, right?
After that unforgettable first evening pressed against that door where I made a man come for the first time, I’m still floating on my little cloud, carried by a breeze of glamour and oh-so-cute eroticism. Benjamin leaves, leaving me with stains on my dress and a blissful smile that just won’t fade. My first time, girls, wasn’t some sketchy hookup with a guy insulting me on Skype, saying “suck your dildo, slut.” No, it was him—his warm hands, his tender mouth, and I still have his scent clinging to my skin like a perfume of spring just beginning! Sorry, I’m drowning in mushy feelings because of my Benjamin

But here’s the thing, reality is about as fun as a 6 a.m. alarm on a Monday morning. Our schedules are a total nightmare! Him with his chef hours that drag on into the wee hours, like he’s grilling steaks while I’m fast asleep, and me with my days where Guillaume has to play the serious guy at work, sitting through meetings where I pretend to listen while daydreaming about skirts and… well, never mind! We’re like two Lego pieces that just won’t click together—no pun intended, though it’s making me giggle all by myself! Because we’re neighbors, but we don’t want to just catch glimpses of each other in passing; we’d rather be pressed up against the door again!

So, WhatsApp is our lifeline, and we’re texting all the time. My phone’s getting more attention than some of my toys, vibrating like crazy. Every “ding” makes me jump like a lovesick teen waiting for a text from her crush. One morning during the week, I get a message: “Hey, my beauty, I didn’t dare ask, but did the stains on your dress come out okay? Sorry again for the mess, I totally dropped the ball on that one—you opened the floodgates before I could shout, ‘Watch out, flood warning!’”

I giggle over my coffee, nearly spilling a drop on the ugly old t-shirt Guillaume’s wearing—let’s just forget about that, Mélanie’s in full glamour mode in her head. He’s thinking about my dress, this guy is just too cute! I reply with a cheeky edge: “Yeah, but I had to slip into my maid outfit and scrub like crazy—it was tougher to clean than I expected, so watch it next time, mister!”
Truth is, I’m fibbing; the washing machine did all the work without a hitch. Feeling flirty, I shoot back: “But you owe me a kiss to make up for it, and a proper cuddle too!” His reply comes lightning-fast, like he’s glued to his screen: “Just a cuddle? I owe you way more than that, like a whole evening. Shall we plan it soon? My place this time—my stove’s finally here, I’ll cook you a nice meal fit for a princess or a maid.” His place? Oh my gosh, Mélanie, this is next-level stuff—we’re moving from doorways to beds, this is serious! We wrestle with our schedules for three days, between his never-ending shifts and my meetings where I zone out to endless blah-blah, my mind fixed on a certain young man, but we finally lock in Saturday night. I’ve got a few days to prep, and trust me, I’m not doing this half-heartedly—it’s not my style!

During those days of waiting, Guillaume stays pretty quiet—I mean, I’m shoving him to the back of my mind under a pile of questions: “What am I going to wear on Saturday? How far am I ready to go? Did I tell him about my peanut allergy?” I spend hours with my besties “tweezers” and “depilatory cream,” not to mention my good pal “Mr. Razor.”

I want flawless skin to feel his caresses, so hop, not a single hair out of place! I go shopping and, of course, being indecisive, I buy three outfits. I also get a chastity cage because I threw out my last one when Guillaume thought it was time to get rid of me. It’s important for my femininity because, well, let’s just say… against the door, Guillaume’s virility got a bit too excited, and I wasn’t exactly thrilled about it! So, to avoid any risk of my clitty pointing skyward, a little metal cage it is! When it arrives, I test it out at home, alone in my room. Putting it on feels weird: cold against my skin, tight like a miniature corset, but so thrilling. It feels girly, a bit naughty, but it’s me—it screams to the world that I’m Mélanie through and through, nothing else!
I add a black lace lingerie set, seamed stockings with a red line running up my legs like an arrow to paradise, and a skirt a tad shorter than last time—just enough to make him drool imagining what’s underneath. Among my purchases is a push-up bra because I see no point in wearing one without some volume, and I can’t picture myself in bed with a padded bra stuffed with size 39 sports socks. Yes, I know, don’t be jealous—I’ve got small feet.

In front of the mirror, I check myself out, twirl, and strike poses like a model. “Mélanie, you’re an absolute bombshell,” Guillaume tells me. So I decide it’s time for a little chat with him:
“Okay, Guillaume, my dear, you realize Benjamin’s got me head over heels, and I might go further than just a little blowjob or handjob!”
“Yeah, I get it, Mélanie. Saturday’s the night you’re gonna let him pound the ass like a total slut!!”
“Ugh, Guillaume, why so crude? It’s true, but you could’ve said it with a bit more class!”
“Whatever, my pretty, you’re dying for it, and honestly, we’re pretty happy right now, don’t you think? Plus, I’d rather we get our butt ruined by Benjamin than someone else!”
Well, I guess we can say I’ve got Guillaume’s blessing, though I’m more in the mood for making love than getting my butt “ruined”! Oh no, I said making love—I think I’m falling for the chef!

But this waiting is pure torture. I’m counting down the days, crossing them off my calendar like a kid before Christmas, and I’m freaking out. What if he cancels? What if he comes up with some lame excuse? What if I mess up with my cage and he expects to play with my clitty? Guillaume’s little inner voice chimes in: “Chill, Mélanie, you already rocked it against the door. You’re an amazing girl, and this guy’s totally into us.”
Okay, Guillaume, maybe you’re right, but I’m still stressing. So, to calm my nerves, I practice. I put on my outfit, try different makeup looks, strut around my apartment in heels, and rehearse sexy lines in front of the mirror: “Hey, handsome chef, got any dessert planned, or am I gonna have to eat you?” Then I crack up laughing like an idiot. Every evening, I practice wearing my cage for hours. It’s my secret, my strength, my shield of femininity, and I hope Benjamin will love it!

Saturday finally arrives, and I’m a bundle of nerves, a firework ready to explode. I spend an hour adjusting my brunette bob wig—perfect for a chic look—and doing my makeup: smoky eyes to make my gaze pop, cherry-red lipstick screaming “kiss me” that makes me want to kiss myself in the mirror.
I check ten times to make sure my cage is secure under my thong and completely invisible. “Mélanie, you’re a girl, a real one—he shouldn’t see anything else!”
I slam my door shut and resist the urge to sprint to his place. I ring the bell, he opens: “Good evening, princess, come in.” The door barely closes before I’m in his arms, his lips on mine, a long, passionate kiss to welcome me. “This might sound silly, but I’ve been counting the days until now.”
I just give him a flattered smile and a look, too shy to admit I’ve been counting the hours today as well.
His place is a small apartment like mine, but mirrored. Minimalist but cozy decor, with a clean scent that’s a far cry from the whiff of Randy Marsh ’s bolognaise-stained t-shirt! He showers me with compliments, my cheeks burn, and my whole body tingles for him.

We sit at the table—or rather, he seats me, because this guy’s a gentleman, pulling out my chair and inviting me to sit. He puts on some ambient music and lights candles—it’s a candlelit dinner! Hello, Mélanie, this is a candlelit dinner, a romantic moment, a date for lovers, for him too!
Even Guillaume pipes up: “Wow, so classy—even I never put this much effort into a home-cooked meal for a girl.”
We eat, and he’s gone all out, again. A roasted chicken with a creamy sauce that makes my mouth water just looking at it, crispy sautéed potatoes that crunch with every bite, and a white wine that goes straight to my head. After two glasses, I’m already giggling like a turkey.
Speaking of which, I won’t act too much like poultry given what’s on my plate—okay, not my best joke, but I’m still on cloud nine reliving this night as I tell you about it. We laugh, our hands brush across the table, and I feel the vibe heating up slowly, like an oven preheating for a big, delicious cake!
He talks about his job, some story about a customer sending back a dish; I talk about Guillaume’s boring meetings and the joy of becoming Mélanie again when I get home. I don’t mention that one night in bed when I thought of him while playing with my toys—gotta keep a little mystery, right? After dessert—a chocolate mousse where I lick my spoon while staring at him a bit too long, like some saucy movie star—he looks into my eyes, places his hand on mine, and says: “I don’t want us to part like last time, Mélanie. Stay the night.”

Oh my God, sleeping over at his place, in his bed, all night—it’s a fantasy coming to life! It’s scary, going from flirty cuddles fully clothed to something hotter, less dressed. I nod, my throat tight with excitement and a hint of nerves: “Okay, I’ll stay.” He stands, grabs my hand, and leads me to his bedroom.
And then, everything shifts into the delicious, the fiery, the idyllic.

In his perfectly tidy room, soft lighting sets a romantic, almost naughty vibe—exactly my kind of scene. We sit on his bed, still clothed, and he kisses me, gentle at first, then wild, urgent, like he’s starving for me. I’ll admit, I’m starving for him too.
His hands slide under my skirt, finding my thong, then my cage. He pauses, tracing a finger over it with a sly smile: “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? I love it—it makes you even more special.”
I ask if he’s bothered or disappointed that my little bird is locked up. “I prefer the perfect girl you are, not Guillaume, the guy you are when you’re not with me. Plus, it’s sexy, like a piercing jewel!”
Wow, he’s into it, he finds it hot—I’m his perfect little sissy! He flips me onto my stomach, spreads my thighs with a confidence that makes me tremble. Oh my gosh, he’s taking charge, I’m his prey, and I’m loving every second! His mouth grazes the top of my back, slowly working its way down while his hand toys with the elastic of my thong. Girls, let me tell you, it’s a tropical storm in my cage—hot and humid!

His lips travel lower, nibbling my cheeks, his warm breath in the crease of my ass making my eyes widen. If I could project an emoji into the air right now, it’d be one covering its eyes, because I think I’m about to get my pussy eaten for the first time! I moan as I feel his kisses, then his tongue gliding along the canyon between my cheeks. Benjamin licks, first light like a caress, then deeper, hungrier.
Holy fucking… sorry, not very girly, but it’s so good I lose all restraint! His tongue—hot, wet—I’m simmering. It’s so thrilling, intimate, and delicious, and when he says, “My princess, I could spend the whole night pampering your little pussy like this,” my heart races, my cage tightens, and I’m already melting inside it, in total ecstasy that connects my body… and my heart.

I feel like a woman, his woman, and he’s devouring me like I’m his favorite dessert—I’m his, completely his! (Note to Benjamin, in case he reads this story: between a blowjob for Guillaume from some girl or your tongue on my little backdoor, just know I’d rather pull the string of my thong to let you through.)
He slides a finger into the wet crease of my ass, just one, circling my little hole, barely dipping inside, just enough to drive me wild. It’s too much—I’m going to scream, I want more, I want everything! I’m under his spell, under his control, aching to explore every part of my sexuality with him. No more sex toys—I want to be his!
I moan, my hips lifting on their own, practically begging without words, just little sounds slipping out. While one hand caresses my neck, the other pushes a finger inside me. I wiggle against it, pushing back, craving to feel him deeper.

But a perfect sissy isn’t a starfish who just lies there! So, trembling with desire, I sit up, wanting to give as much as I’m getting. I push him down so he sprawls on the bed, and I perch on his calves. I unzip his fly, less clumsy than the first time—Mélanie learns dick, oops, I mean learns quick!
I take his cock in my mouth, so hard, so full of desire for me. I suck, shyly at first, then with focus, tasting him, letting him slide over my tongue, savoring it. It’s big, solid between my lips, and I want him to love it—I want to hear his reactions and learn to give him the best blowjobs!
He moans, his hands on my shoulders, and I feel wings sprouting—I’ve gone from unicorn to Pegasus, soaring so high! (Admit it, you thought the unicorn’s horn was what’s between my lips!)
I try to tug off his jeans, but it’s not as easy as it looks—thankfully, he helps, and together we strip. He carefully removes my top, mindful not to mess up my wig, leaving me in my bra before him. I rip off his boxers, and he slides down my panties. Hot damn, my man’s cock is out! Mélanie grabs her backpack and, in full “Dora the Explorer” mode, dives back between his thighs. I study his balls, his shaft—everything about him turns me on. I run my tongue everywhere, giving him a mischievous look, his rod in my fingers and his balls… between my lips! It’s hot and delicious, and Benjamin seems to love it so much!

But we both want more. He grabs me, and I slide up against him, our lips meeting again. His hands grip my ass, and mine reaches for his rock-hard cock. I rub my cheeks against his rigid shaft, feeling it glide between them, not entering—not yet, it’s too soon for that. I want to savor every step of my new sexuality. I wiggle, in a trance, like an erotic dancer. I straddle him, a sissy Amazon, and he’s my stallion!

My little pussy is still wet from his saliva, so he slides perfectly, his hands gripping my cheeks, his cock trapped between them. To put it bluntly, I’m jerking him off with my ass! “If it’s okay with you, Mélanie, let’s stop here. First times only happen once—let’s savor each one, step by step.”
Wow, he’s reading my mind—it’s exactly what I was hoping for! At that moment, Guillaume pops up: “Phew, our ass isn’t getting pounded tonight, but that’s fine. Enjoy, Mélanie—I think Benjamin’s showering us with pleasure and sweetness!”
My stallion grabs my hips, guiding my movements. I feel so utterly feminine, hands on his chest, swaying my hips. Our eyes lock, our pleasure reflected in each other’s gaze. He’s so hard in my crease, it feels like I’m sitting on a ski lift! I want him to come, to feel him explode like this, squeezed between my cheeks, right now! This time, it’s not my dress he’ll splatter with his sticky white pleasure—it’s my body.
His hands on my ass are both masculine and gentle, just like his cock nestled between. I speed up my swaying, and he thrusts harder. I’m on the verge of dying from pleasure! Oh my God, Benjamin, this is so good, I love your body. At those words, he comes. A hot spurt shoots onto my back, my ass, his orgasm dripping down, trickling between my cheeks, coating my skin. I laugh, breathless. I’m soaked with him—filthy, perfect, his living canvas painted with his pleasure! We collapse on the bed, sticky and blissful.
No words are spoken. I rest my head on his chest, and we’re just… content. “You, my little one, are falling in love,” Guillaume whispers. I don’t know, and I don’t want to think about it—how could love work between Guillaume, Mélanie, and my Benjamin? I push the thought away, choosing instead to bask in the angels dancing around me. Then, I fall asleep in his arms, my cage wet and securely in place.

I wake up before him, still groggy but fulfilled, with a smile that probably looks like a cat who caught a mouse. I slept with my wig on—I must look like Cousin It! It’s probably all crooked, I panic to myself! I catch my reflection in the window and quickly adjust it, opting to stay in bed rather than get up to fix everything perfectly.
I look at him, naked on the sheets, so beautiful and peaceful. His cock, soft and resting, looks almost artistic in the few rays of sunlight slipping through the shutters. I gaze at him, in awe. He’s my man—this body, this cock—it’s a little bit mine now, isn’t it? I’m so lucky.
I can’t resist. I lean down and take him in my mouth to wake him up.
Gently, I suck, teasing with my tongue, and he stirs with a moan of “Mélanie…” that makes me tingle down to my painted toes. I focus, savoring him. Feeling him harden between my lips is such an indescribable, reassuring, and thrilling sensation. I let him enjoy it, taking care of him. After a few minutes, he murmurs, “My little unicorn, careful, I’m gonna come.”
I pull back just in time. He releases onto his stomach, a beautiful white mess splattering his abs.

“Good morning, my darling, this time, once again, I don’t have a dress to wash.”
I feel like doing something, hesitating, but then—screw it, my dear, you’ve got to take some risks in life! I run my tongue over his tip, where a bead of his seed glistens. Hmm, intriguing and deliciously naughty. So, I take him in my mouth a little more, savoring the taste of his pleasure. Benjamin pulls me up, still laughing, and kisses me—a kiss that tastes of morning, of sex, of pure happiness.
We stay there, intertwined, chatting about everything and nothing, still naked under the sheets. He asks if I slept well, and I tell him yes, though sleeping with a wig is quite the experience, and my cage woke me up a few times in the night, caught between frustration and excitement.
He laughs, running a hand over my stomach: “We’ll have to find a solution for that, to ease your frustration, my beauty. I want to make you come too.” A solution? Oh yes, I want everything with him, again and again. I want him to show me new things, to make me gallop faster than a unicorn, and to make me come every single day!
I snuggle against his chest, his scent soothing me. I see those thick, white droplets and bite my lip with pride, looking at them. I tell myself that Mélanie is finding her rhythm, her man, her story. This isn’t just a hookup—it’s something real, tender, and a little dirty, exactly what I’ve always dreamed of but thought was out of reach.
But what’s next? Well, girls, I have to live it to write it, but I think it’s coming soon. I want to discover everything with him and wake up feeling like a woman by his side more often!