I tease and tickle the precious mound.I tease and tickle the precious mound. I gently cover it with my hand, content to feel the warmth, the moisture. She rises sightly, pushing against my hand. And sighs. Her hand does not move from me. It holds me, tenderly and lovingly. Her fingernails trace a path up my abdomen, and back to my penis. Up the length of it, gently across its head, and back to the base. She holds me, then. No longer teasing. Just holding. We lay side by side, still covered by the blanket. No words. Gentle nuzzlings. Soft, feathery kisses along jaw and ear. Sighs. Contentment. Passion, not spent, but honed to a fine edge. Promises of fulfillment to come. Together we dream in soft anticipation. The moon merely smiles. * * * She really does sleep very soundly. Especially after a couple of glasses of wine. She doesn't stir as I fasten the handcuffs to her wrists, and then to the headboard of the bed. As a matter of fact, she doesn't even stir until I have gagged her with the silk scarf I bought especially for that purpose. But by that time, her ankles are been bound to the foot of the bed and she is spreadeagled and helpless! Her eyes snap open. She can't see a thing. She can't move. Or speak! Terror assails her as she struggles against her bonds. She knows that someone is here. In the room. Of course there is someone in the room with her. |