She’s self-conscious about her grey hair

So the part where your waist flares out into your hips is pretty fucking magical. You know that?

Possible scenarios: 1) Meet for a movie. 2) Meet for chaste coffee, just chat. 3) Meet in a bar, dress as I direct…

… and do as I request (just hand over the reins after five minutes so you can feel free to say no)

Meet in a hotel bar. Again, dress as I request. I’ll send you upstairs to play with yourself. I’ll join you if invited.


Meet for a conventional dinner date, suffused with expectation. Oh, and me fingering you under the table.

Drink at a bar, flirting shamelessly. I’ll watch. At a certain point, I’ll swoop in. You may decide if you want to leave with me.

Simply put on a show for me in your hotel room: I want to see you in (and out of) every item of clothing you packed.

I want to see your grey hairs.

I want to pull your grey hairs.

I wouldn’t mind cumming on your grey hairs.


  1. Oh I do love the strangers in a bar idea. One day. I shall do that.

    (I have just heart-stoppingly almost posted with my work disqus login. If I ever do that and need you to delete it you had better be available on the button!!)

      1. Why don’t you formulate a list of pros and cons.
        I’ll make a contingency plan in case my cover is well and truly blown because I’m on a flight to heaven knows where to meet a stranger in a bar to discuss buttons.

          1. Discussing buttons, I think. And whether you would be prepared to push them on my behalf :))

          2.  And I think the climax to such a round of double ententre is, in the vernacular, “Oo-er Mrs”

          3. An appropriate use of language I thought. (do you see I am being rather squashed into a corner here >>)

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