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But this poem was unlike any ofmy other notes. It was dedicated to Mistress' thoughts and desires, andnot my own. In my mind, I imagined Marina S?nneberg drinking in thesight of Her sissies, as they struggled to carry out Her humiliatingorders. I saw Her climax wildly as She clicked through Her livingposter-book of sissies-in-training, each one compelled to look asfeminine as possible. She must adore seeing Her boyfriends labor intheir doll-masks, their mouths packed full of rubber cock, strippedclean of their male egos, and anxious for any signs of Mistress'approval.Reading through the poem again, I discovered that each verse fell withinthe 40-word limit Mistress applied to weekly text messages. Perhaps whenI received my permission to text Her, I could respond with one verse ofthis poem.Sissy Anthemby Mistress Marina S?nneberg'strainee, tommie-lyn montero(nine verses)Sissy's face must ride on a cock.No blushing or struggles are seen.A tiny click, & the veneer is locked;she serves. The woman had followed me down to the floor and was rubbing one hand from breast to breast while her other one rubbed between my legs getting me wet. Through the legs of the other people I could see some others had moved to the mattresses in the other room so I stood up and motioned my group to move in there. This gave me an opportunity to look at the woman who had been feeling me. It was the woman who had introduced me to the party. I smiled at her and reached behind me to feel her breasts. Beautiful; firm and pointy. There were already about a dozen people on the play mats in various states of sexual activity. Oral both ways, fingering and one couple already fucking. I kneeled down and positioned one guy on each side of me so I could suck them both by simply moving my head from one side to the other. The woman knelt down behind me and resumed feeling my cunt. I widened my knees to give her easy access and was soon rewarded with a slick fingering from her. I reached behind me.
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Not a little, a lot! A whole lot!They had matching hair-styles. Their medium-brown hair was tied in matching pony tails with matching pink ribbons. They wore wearing matching jeans, running shoes and T-shirts. And although I couldn't see through their matching T-shirts, I guessed they also wore matching DD-cup bras! These two were seriously stacked. If it hadn't been for having Tanya about the place, I would have thought the twins were two of the biggest-busted thirteen-year-olds I had ever seen.They came into the house, looking sniffily around as if to say, 'that's something else I hate about this place, we will have to get *that* changed'. Mum saw me watching from the bottom of the stairs and told them, "There's your big cousin, she'll show you the way to your room", and disappeared gratefully into the kitchen.So I took them upstairs, and opened the door of what would be their bedroom for the next three weeks, and they went in. There was a shriek, or rather twin shrieks. These two.

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