Thursday, December 02, 2004
You rummage around in the basket for what seems like a long time, all the while running a finger up and down my thigh under my skirt. And I am starting to get really nervous. What will you select? Will you start slowly, and work your way up, or will you start off with something terrible?
And then I see that look. You've found what you wanted. I hold my breath while you bring out of the basket the most evil instrument of torture I can imagine. A feather.
In the hands of any other person, a feather can be difficult to take. But in your hands, well, difficult doesn't even begin to describe it. You know me too well. You know every spot, the ones that will make me giggle, and the ones that are going to be hardest for me to take. You can use that feather to bring me to a quick orgasm, or to make me squirm for hours. And I have no idea which you intend to do.
You lean over, kiss me on the forehead, and tell me to close my eyes. You have me lift my hips and pull my skirt off, leaving me with nothing but stockings and shoes. And then you begin.
And then I see that look. You've found what you wanted. I hold my breath while you bring out of the basket the most evil instrument of torture I can imagine. A feather.
In the hands of any other person, a feather can be difficult to take. But in your hands, well, difficult doesn't even begin to describe it. You know me too well. You know every spot, the ones that will make me giggle, and the ones that are going to be hardest for me to take. You can use that feather to bring me to a quick orgasm, or to make me squirm for hours. And I have no idea which you intend to do.
You lean over, kiss me on the forehead, and tell me to close my eyes. You have me lift my hips and pull my skirt off, leaving me with nothing but stockings and shoes. And then you begin.
