Wednesday, June 8, 2011


From dreams to waking, guided by his cruelly perfect touch. No, I don't remember waking this morning. I just remember my hips bucking into his hand, fingers slick and sliding and the pleasure rising steadily until it was too much to bear.

An actual orgasm. With pulsing, clenching tightness. It was amazing. It tasted like staring into the noonday sun.

And he was pressing so hotly against my ass, pulling me against him like he knew it drove me crazy. 

After that, I was permitted the luxury of learning how to operate morning activities with wrists and ankles tied. He then demonstrated a particularly delicious application while shoving me against our bedroom wall. Somehow, even as I picked at the knots with my teeth afterward, he knew that I didn't really want to take them off.

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