My Diary.

By Nikkie Silk

Dear Diary

Today was a busy day. This morning, I kissed Daddy goodbye at the front door, wearing my pink baby-doll nightie. The nightie rides up to show my matching knickers, which barely cover my little cockette in its cage. Daddy keeps the key close to his heart on a chain around his neck, which I think is supersweet of him. It is gestures like that which make me love him so much. Only he can use the key, as it should be, I hasten to add.

He climbed into his car, and I blew him a kiss just as the postman came up the path, looking down at some letters in his hand. He glanced up at me as he reached the door, then dropped his bag, spilling letters all over the path. He must be a religious man, I thought, because I heard him mutter, “Jesus Christ.” Of course, I helped him pick up the letters, but, to be honest, I must have collected them all, as the postman just stood there with his mouth wide open. I kept the letters for us, and his hand was trembling as I handed the other letters back to him. As he walked away, I saw him pull a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his face.

I spent the morning cleaning the house in the maid’s outfit Daddy bought for me, the one with the teensy-weensy skirt that shows my stocking tops. Fred, the man from the parcel delivery company, seems to like me wearing it. He is so sweet, often coming round even when there aren’t any parcels for us. He says he wants to make sure I am okay because there are so many bad people around, although Daddy says we live in a super safe neighbourhood. Still, it’s kind of Fred to think of looking after me. Not in the same way Daddy takes care of me, of course. Today, when Fred arrived carrying a parcel for Daddy, he dropped his keys on the floor and asked me to pick them up because his hands were full. I had to bend over right in front of him, and when I stood up and handed him his keys, his face was pink. There was a funny bulge in the front of his trousers, and he mumbled that he had to go home and take care of himself. I hope he’s not too ill.

I think Mr Darby, the elderly neighbour across the street, must be a keen birdwatcher, because he is always at his upstairs window with a pair of binoculars. There must be a bird nesting in the tree in our garden, because he sometimes points his binoculars at our house. If I see him looking our way, which happens a lot, I wave hello, but he always ducks down below the window. I heard Mrs Darby shouting at him today. She must have been cooking because she yelled something about him spending too much time watching the little tart.

I had to call Dan, the emergency plumber, again today because the bathroom shower is still leaking. Daddy should find another plumber. Dan is nice and sweet, but he can’t be very competent. Every time he mends the shower, it leaks again. I think he must not be a good businessman because he always says there’s no charge, no matter how many times he comes. It was hot today, and Dan had to take off his T-shirt while fixing the shower. He is very proud of his muscles. They are bigger than Daddy’s, but he has a moustache and a lot of curly black hair on his chest, which I do not like. I prefer Daddy’s smooth face and chest. I get all giggly when I think of running my fingers over Daddy’s chest. Even thinking about it gives me a tingly feeling down there.

Anyhoo, after Dan took off his T-shirt, he asked me to help him. He told me to stand under the shower and turn it on while he checked the water pressure. It must have been okay, because when I turned on the shower, the water poured all over me. The water was cold, and it soaked my maid’s outfit. I was shivering, and Dan told me to take it off before I caught a cold. I took it off, but I turned my back to him and was careful to leave my knickers on. I didn’t want to embarrass him. He dried me off with a towel, which was sweet of him, but he clumsily let it slip, and as he tried to grab it, his fingers accidentally brushed my nipples, which made me giggle. He was trembling and breathing oddly, and I thought he might faint, so I gave him a big hug to let him know everything would be alright. Unfortunately, he was still having trouble breathing and said he had to go before he had an accident. I’m not sure what he meant, but I am sure Daddy’s home insurance would cover any accidents. I thanked him for fixing the shower, but I heard him say he’d like to clean out my pipes, so I expect he will have to come back to do that.

After making myself a little salad for lunch because Daddy says I have to keep my figure, I hung out my maid’s outfit and several pairs of my knickers to dry on the clothesline in the back garden. I always hand-wash my pretty lingerie, as Daddy says I should. I had changed into a pair of tight little shorts and a crop top because it was so hot, though mostly because I liked how the shorts show off my bum.

As I bent over to pick up my knickers from the laundry basket, I heard a cracking sound followed by a loud thump, and someone yelled, ‘Ooow.’ I turned around to see the teenage boy from next door lying on the ground next to a tree branch. He must have been climbing the tree, and the branch had broken under his weight. I rushed over to him, but he seemed unhurt, albeit a bit confused, because he told me he had been trying to rescue their cat from the tree where it had got stuck. He might be concussed, I thought, because I know next door doesn't have a cat.

I helped him up and noticed the zip on his jeans was undone. I could see he wasn’t wearing any underwear because his ding-a-ling was poking out. It wasn’t very big, unlike Daddy’s, which is so large I have to use two hands when he asks me to give it a massage, which happens a lot. Thinking about Daddy made me feel flustered, and I had to force myself to stop. I told the boy his garage door was open, and he looked puzzled until I pointed it out. He went bright red, grabbed the zip to close it, and screamed. I think he got something caught in the zip, and I told him kindly to always wear underwear before he limped off, bent over and holding his groin.

As I watched him leave, I heard laughter from the garden of the neighbouring house. One of the two ladies who lived there was leaning over the fence. I had thought they were sisters, but Daddy laughed when I told him that. He called the pretty one a femme and said that the other one, who looked and dressed like a man, was a butch. I told him it sounded like a name you’d call a dog, and he laughed so hard he almost choked himself. I tried to give him the Heimlich manoeuvre, but he told me not to be so silly. I sulked a bit because I was only trying to save his life, but he soon cheered me up by making me sit in his lap and bouncing me up and down on what he calls his joystick.

I found out the butch lady’s real name was Charlie because one day, when their window was open, I heard the pretty lady shout, ‘Oh my God, Charlie. Give it to me now.’ I think they must have been doing some DIY and she was asking Charlie to give her a tool.

It was Charlie who was laughing, and when I asked her politely what was so funny, she said it served him right because he was always up in the tree, trying to look into my bedroom window. I must remember to close my curtains in future. 

She said I looked hot, and I agreed because it was a very warm day. She asked if I wanted to come over for a cool drink. Why not, I thought. It was a hot day, and it was a nice, neighbourly thing for her to offer. I thought I should change into something prettier than my shorts and crop top for a social visit, so I put on my pink satin frilly dress with the petticoats Daddy loves me to wear, put my hair into bunches with pink ribbons, and put on my white stilettos. 

As I walked along the street towards Charlie’s house, I heard a loud wolf whistle and turned to see a passing cyclist looking at me. He wasn’t paying attention, and I watched as he rode straight into the back of a car. I ran over to him as fast as I could in my heels, which wasn’t fast at all. He had knocked himself out, and remembering my first aid, I decided to give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He opened his eyes, looked up at me in surprise, and poked his tongue into my mouth, which was a bit icky because Daddy is the only man who should do that.

I thought he must still be a bit concussed, because he asked if I was an angel. That made me laugh, because Daddy sometimes calls me his angel, mostly when we are in bed together. I helped him up and told him sternly to wear a helmet when he rode his bike. He said he would love to show me his helmet, which was strange because he didn't seem to have one with him. He wasn’t badly hurt, because he jumped up and rode off in a hurry, but kept looking back at me over his shoulder. I do so hope he doesn’t have another accident.

I set off for our neighbour's house again and spotted Mr Darby at his window, binoculars in hand. I waved to him, but then his wife appeared behind him, and he disappeared, followed by a lot of shouting from Mrs Darby. I knocked on our neighbour’s front door, and Charlie opened it. She let me in and closed the door, but only after she had looked up and down the street a couple of times. She has short hair, wears men’s clothes, and, to be honest, is a little bit scary. But I told her it was so sweet of her to invite me over, and I curtsied, as Daddy tells me I should when someone does something nice for me.

Charlie said I looked lovely in my dress, and I blushed at the compliment. But there was something about the way she looked at me that made my tummy flutter, the way it does when Daddy touches me. She grinned at me as if she somehow guessed what I was thinking. Charlie fetched us both a glass of lemonade, sat on the couch, patted the space beside her, and told me to sit there. As I sat down, she rolled up her shirt sleeves, revealing a tattoo on her arm. I think it was a snake, as all I could see was a tail, with the rest of its body disappearing under her shirt sleeve. 

She caught me looking and asked if I liked tattoos. Daddy has a tattoo, but I wasn’t going to tell Charlie what it is, especially not where it is. Daddy says I’m the only one who gets to look at it. I told Charlie I like tattoos, but I would be scared to get one because it must be painful. She laughed and said it wasn’t too bad, then asked if I wanted to see hers. The thought of seeing it made me tingle, and I felt myself go pink, but I nodded.

I watched as Charlie unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it off, revealing a black sports bra beneath. Daddy likes it when I wear a bra because he says it makes me look girly, but I only like the frilly ones that match my knickers. I do love it when he says I look girly. It makes me want to sit in his lap and kiss him. But I digress. Where was I? Honestly, Daddy calls me his little airhead sometimes when I forget things, which is quite often. Oh, yes, Charlie’s tattoo. With her shirt off, I could see the snake’s body run up her arm, across her chest, down her tummy, and disappear into the waistband of her jeans. She grinned and asked if I wanted to touch it. My throat was so dry I couldn’t speak, so I nodded. She took my hand and gently pressed my fingers against the tattoo on her tummy.

It felt very naughty to touch her like that, and I started to feel a little dizzy. Charlie must have noticed, because she put her arm around my shoulder and held me tight. I must admit it felt very nice, and I snuggled closer to her. She put her other hand on my leg, and I got goosebumpy as her fingers tickled my thigh. She said my lips looked so pretty, and I told her it was my favourite pink lip gloss. She ran her finger along my lips and asked if she could give them a kiss to see what they tasted like.

I normally only kiss boys, but Charlie asked so nicely that I gave in and whispered, “Yes, please.” I closed my eyes, and she kissed me gently on the lips. As only I will ever read this diary, I confess I was a little disappointed. It was just a peck, and I’m sure she couldn’t even taste my lip gloss. I think she must have seen my disappointment, because as I opened my eyes, Charlie kissed me again, properly this time.

This wasn’t like one of Daddy’s kisses, which sometimes feel rough, as if he’s in a hurry, though I would never tell him so. Charlie’s kiss was soft and slow, as if she wanted me to enjoy it too. I won’t lie and say lights flashed and fireworks exploded in my head, but there was a funny feeling, you know, down there, as we kissed.

Charlie asked me if I wanted to sit in her lap. I knew I shouldn’t, but she was being so nice to me that I thought it would be rude to say no, so I scooted over and sat in her lap. She put her arms around me and asked me to kiss her this time. Oh well, I thought, another little kiss couldn’t do any harm, could it? I pressed my lips to hers, and I could feel my cockette getting stiff in its cage. Charlie pushed her tongue through my lips, and unlike the boy earlier, this was not icky at all.

In fact, it was so not icky that I sucked on her tongue, as I do to Daddy’s nipples. He likes me doing it, and I think Charlie did too, because she made a funny sound in her throat. She pulled her tongue out of my mouth and told me I was a bad girl. I blushed because that’s what Daddy sometimes tells me I am. She asked me if I knew what happens to bad girls, and I said yes, but I didn’t tell her I knew because Daddy asks the same question, and it always means it’s time for a spanking.

I rolled over to lie on my front across her lap and pulled up my dress to reveal my knickers. My cockette was now as hard as the cage allowed, in anticipation of what was to come. Charlie was breathing heavily, and I heard her say, “Oh boy.” She must have got confused because I’m not exactly a boy. I wiggled my cute little bum a few times in encouragement, and she must have got the message because she slowly pulled my knickers down to my knees. She stroked my perfect plump cheeks with her hands before she slapped me for the first time. Although it wasn’t a hard slap, I jumped and squealed, as Daddy likes me to do. Charlie must be religious too, because I heard her say, “Oh, God.” She slapped me again, a little harder this time, and I squealed once more. Charlie seemed to be getting the hang of it, as more slaps arrived, getting harder each time. My cheeks were feeling hotter and hotter after each slap, and I was wiggling like an eel on her lap.

At that moment, I heard someone ask what the fuck was going on. I looked up to see the pretty lady standing in the doorway, looking very angry. I thought it was an odd thing for her to say, because it must have been obvious what was going on. But Charlie told her I had tripped and fallen over her knees. The pretty lady asked, in that case, how come the little tramp’s knickers are down by her knees, and your hands are all over her bum? I was puzzled, because I couldn’t see a tramp. It was only Charlie and me. Charlie told her that I had hurt my bum and she was giving it a massage. For some reason, the pretty lady didn’t believe Charlie, although I thought it was a pretty believable story.

They were shouting at each other, so I took the chance to slip away quietly. After pulling up my knickers, of course. You can’t slip anywhere with your knickers around your knees. I walked back to Daddy’s house, waving at Mr Darby, who was standing at his bedroom window, birdwatching again. It was strange. He was holding his binoculars in one hand and rubbing the front of his trousers with the other. I hope he hasn’t pulled a muscle.

I arrived home just as Daddy parked his car in our drive, and I jumped straight into his arms. He looked surprised, but kissed me and carried me, giggling, all the way upstairs to bed. I told him everything about my day, and dear diary, he called me his little tease as I knelt on the bed and he made me a very, very happy sissy.