April 19, 2015

Panty Slut

  I love talking to sissy and panty boi’s who just can’t seem to let go of mommies apron strings.  These are boi’s who have a special feminine side that they want to explore with Mommy.  In these situations I love nothing more then to dress you up like a big fluffy sissy baby girl and have you act accordingly.  Pantyboys on the other hand, they need a different type of Mommy.My pantyboys have to bend over and take my strap on at any given time.  I can request you to drop your panties and bend over and take it in the ass like a good little momma’s boytoy.  It really doesn’t matter to me what sort of momma’s manboy you are, as long as you understand that I expect all my sissy and panty boi slaves to do as they are told or else.  Jenna *888*430*2010  
May 14, 2010

Bed in Summer

In Winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle light. In Summer, quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day. I have to go to bed and see The birds still hopping on the tree, Or hear the grown-up people’s feet Still going past me in the street. And does it not seem hard to you, When all the sky is clear and blue, And I should like so much to play, To have to go to bed by day? Robert Louis Stevenson Minnie
April 16, 2010

Empty Carriage

They walk down the street- faces reflecting a calmness so unfamiliar to me. Little eyes looking up at them; unknowingly relying upon their presence. We share the same planet, yet I feel upon another. To know the warmth of a soft breath upon my neck and the soundness of sleep upon my breast is no more than a mystery. Time does not cure all wounds of the heart when the soul remains unfulfilled. My eyes turn to the sky and I wonder why I am on a path that no longer fits my feet? Like a flower awaiting spring so it can burst forth with all its splendor, color and life so lies my love- dormant within the depths of my heart yearning to burst forth and be poured upon another. I push my carriage on the sidewalks of life and peer into it; hoping to see love gazing up into my eyes; unconditional, pure, beautiful and magical- only to find the carriage empty. © Ellen M. DuBois Minnie
October 26, 2009

Witches

A be”witch”ing poem for the sake of the Halloween spirit. In a city, on the border Of Greenwich Harbor and Bly, Maine Lies a scene, dubbed out of order The people don’t like to explain For when nightfall finds its calling And the ground is damp with dew A strange, mist-like fog starts falling Believed from the witches brew. When the haze drifts on the hillside The scent of sulfur fills the air Streaking ‘cross the ebbing high tide Till the fog is everywhere Then the night becomes quite stoic ‘Neath the bright yellow facade And the townsfolk, not heroic Find their shelter e’er abroad. Thus, the city is a ghost town Every night when dusk appears But, alas, there’s milling around In spite of the chills and fears It is true, the rumored report Of the fog-like mist and smell For within a vacant resort Is the place where witches dwell. While the walls are swayed by motion And the roof is half intact The witches join to boil a potion Made of decades old extract To erase one’s recollections Of the town that they once knew Once they taste the rich confections That are in the witches’ brew. Minnie
December 31, 2008

tickled

Hewwos, I talked to a daddy who had a tickle fetish. We played a long game of desperation and tickle till baby girl peed her diapy. I loved it, and we hads a lot of fun. I had daddy giving me lots of bottles to fill me up before he got out the feather and tickled me sooo much I had to leak out in my diapers. Katie