"I still despise beautiful women, and Melissa is very beautiful indeed."
Melissa dragged the scope from between her clinging clam lips. Born anew; lustful tears gushing from her abused sex; it arose glistening into the light. A penile projection of black plastic-coated metal, her lover, the pleasure provider. Its surface slick...
"I despise beautiful women. I do. I really do."
I despise beautiful women.Okay, maybe that is a teensy bit of an overstatement but I wanted to grab your attention and if I'd written 'I have problems developing and maintaining friendships with beautiful women' then, well, I can feel the...
"Sean is a hand shandy merchant filled with creamy topping."
Sean or Shaun? To be completely honest I have no idea. I've only heard his name spoken and try as I might I can't distinguish the difference between the 'ea' and 'hau' sounds. I've decided to go with Sean to...
"Will there be touching?""Yes.""Not just self-touching, but touching touching?""Well no then. No touching touching.""Oooohhhh. Disappointed.""Hmmmm. The things I do just for you." Tabletop fingertips reaching and grazing as beseeching pupils plead. Palm to palm, entwined and enraptured wandering casual and unattended...
""Cumdump, cumslut, cocksleeve, whore.""
Patriarchy cockspit splatters at my impervious flesh, no more consequential than raindrops hammering at a window pane. On my knees where you've pushed me, pressed me, kept me for my entirety. To pray, to scrub, to suck, to serve. The taunts...
"My Lloyd Loom chair no refuge from her exploring mouth."
Weaved wicker abuses my buttocks' soft flesh, abrades my spine, pinches behind my knee. I'm slumped. I'm splayed. I'm balanced en pointe on a single toe, my Lloyd Loom chair no refuge from her exploring mouth. Each shudder, each tremble,...
"It's not butter. It really isn't."
"I Can't Believe It's Not Butter""Not butter! What is it then?""It's 'I Can't Believe It's Not Butter'.""What?""It's what it's called. It's a brand name. A margarine or buttermilk or some such. You're not supposed to be able to tell the...
"I am a curtain twitcher. A busy body. A peeping tometina, if you wish. A pair of prying eyes and a m"
I have A Room With A View though this is no Merchant Ivory production; no Helena Bonham-Carter, no Daniel Day-Lewis, neither Judi Dench nor Maggie Smith, not even Denholm Elliott or Julian Sands. No, mine is far more Hitchcockian, more...
"How to return a pair of misplaced panties"
Black lace, handkerchief folded, sitting atop the tabletop. Pussy soiled not shop fresh. Fabric sodden. Ambrosia coated. Your unique aroma battling with coffee grinds for my attention. And my nostrils revel in you. Perched and positioned on your throne. Attentively...
"The moment before ..."
Nails ranked like soldiers; perfectly crimson bedecked. Attentive and attending as they traverse dappled flesh. Observing every imperfection; paying homage to every flaw. Freckles. Moles. An expanded pore. Trickling betwixt them as taut flesh quivers beneath each inquiring touch. Dare...