Let’s go for a ride
She meets me at the hotel bar. I ask her to wear a short cotton skirt and thigh-highs, heels, and[…]
Read moreIs there a difference?
She meets me at the hotel bar. I ask her to wear a short cotton skirt and thigh-highs, heels, and[…]
Read moreWe were discussing my recent post on working out, and she had some ideas. “Why don’t we,” she said, her[…]
Read moreI didn’t write this. A lovely correspondent of mine did, in response to a tweet I had sent: “Describe for[…]
Read moreShe’s tiny – maybe 5’2”. She has black hair and pale white skin. Pulled back tight, as it usually is,[…]
Read more“Do twelve reps!” she barked to me. My triceps were burning. I didn’t think I could squeeze out five more[…]
Read more“Do twelve reps!” she barked to me. My triceps were burning. I didn’t think I could squeeze out five more[…]
Read moreLately, I’ve been thinking a bit about how money works, about how it can simultaneously deliver and undermine fantasies. As[…]
Read moreBefore I say anything, you should know that I’m writing this with T next to me, moaning as she applies[…]
Read moreThe possibilities are endless. Do I want to use her mercilessly, wear her out, send her home weak and sore? […]
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