Erotica

My trainer wore a miniskirt and boots to our session. She knew exactly what she was doing.

A different kind of lazy Sunday.

I know what I want. And I ask nicely.

I can’t get hard reading erotica by someone I can’t imagine fucking.

The game is tied, and nobody’s biting.

The tables turn, and I’m reminded: don’t be a biter.

A belt between your teeth, my tongue between your thighs, and a tap-tap-tap safe signal we both hope you won’t use.

A broken link, a battle of wills, and a very sore cock.

A hotel room, a pillowcase, a tie, a belt, and a dress that doesn’t survive the evening.

The counterpoint to wisdom, of course, is folly. Here’s some of mine.