Ok. This one is a little less safe.
You have exactly one task for the evening: stand, silently, facing a full-length mirror. Your legs are to be spread for me, your hands planted, firmly, on the wall above your head, at shoulders’ width.
You are not. To. Move. Unless and to the extent that I move you, as, for example, I slide your boyshorts off of you.
I will make you some promises:
I will not undress. Except I will almost certainly remove my belt.
I will not leave bruises.
My cock will not leave my jeans.
If you ask (nicely), I will stop whatever it is that I’m doing with/to you.
I will not promise not to turn you 180 degrees, so you are facing me. But if I do, you will maintain that position, silently.
Can you imagine what such an evening might look like? What my fingers might do? My palms? My lips? My tongue?
What I might do with the bulge in my jeans?
With my belt?