It'd been storming outside for what seemed like days. Thankfully, my Dom and I had been well prepared -- we knew what was coming, so we stocked up on movies and groceries. Personally, I love nights like this, when the snow is falling and the world outside looks crystallized and beautiful. I love it even more when I can stay inside with friends or family and spend time together, warm and snug inside away from the chill.
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He was too handsome for his own good. I'd long since recognized that it might very well lead to the end of us. My sore whipping arm was longing for an overweight sub with the face of a pug. Good thing for Precious, the rest of me was not.
Eyeing the furtive glances of the young girl, I immediately knew she wasn't his type. She was submissive, for one thing. It leaked from every pore of her overly exposed skin.
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She sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at his cock. Still wet with her juices, it seemed to glisten in the light streaming in from the outside street lamp. It was a beautiful thing; still fairly ridged despite the last hour's activities. She gently traced the thick vein underneath with her fingernail, causing him to squirm slightly, stopping at the smooth head of his penis. She smiled as she stood; she was more satisfied than she could remember. She felt sexy, confident... and vindicated.
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"Oh, my God! I'm so sorry."
His voice was a soft rush as he apologized for letting the door of the shop close on her, banging her hand in it. He grabbed her hand in his and held it firmly.
"I didn't realize you were behind me. I'm so oblivious." He rubbed her hand between his, as he would his own if he'd hurt it.
She felt a little jolt of electricity race up her arm and looked up into his bright blue eyes. Another jolt raced down her body. She was sure they had never met before but he seemed strangely familiar.
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I heard the front door open and close, and my wife came barreling into the living room. I barely had time to take in her petite frame, muscular thighs, and small breasts before she grabbed me by the arm, pulled me up from the couch, and dragged me toward the bedroom. She was dripping with sweat — why on earth would a person go for a run in the middle of the day in August? — and as we passed through the bedroom door she said, "I need you to fuck me right now."
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Two months later I walked out the prison a free man. I enjoyed the bus ride to my hometown. My mother was surprise when she saw me standing on her porch.
We sat and talked before the front door slammed open. My sister ran over almost knocking me down.
"You're ass better be home for good!" She yelled as she ran up the steps.
"Oh, my God!" The voice was my ex-girlfriend Gloria. "Why didn't you call me when you were on you way home?"
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Pieces of light filter through the room from the crack in the bathroom door. A sliver is illuminated onto the closet mirrored door as sweat beads across my Dom's back. Slick skin glides next to mine as the anticipation of the next move courses through us both. A nervous glance passes between my lover and I as she takes my hand. This move in itself scares me because it is done without permission. We are guided towards him as he uses our hair to pull us into his chest.
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I have seen so many misdirected and misused young women in my long active life, that I often just ignored them. I was building a house near the IHOP and both breakfast and evening meals were convenient there. The lovely young female, still searching for identity, had waited on me for a week now. We had talked and teased every day. I was getting a sense of her unfulfilled sexuality and the frustration she lived with. Tonight her body was tense and her hormones were surging. She needed to belong and serve. She was slow coming back to take my order.
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"I must be crazy," Elise thought fleetingly as she jabbed the needle into her left breast, two inches below the nipple.
It hurt, but not as badly as the needle already buried in her right breast. That one was still stinging, sending a thrill through her that left her gasping. She had hoped that the one in her left breast would balance the pain. Pulling her breast up by the nipple, she withdrew the needle, blessed it in the smoke of the incense, and then stabbed again.
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It was during my first summer holiday since I'd gone to university when it happened. I had gone into town one Saturday afternoon to get some CDs, when I saw walking down the street towards me my French teacher from school. Generally I didn't really like meeting my old teachers, it was always a bit odd being treated normally by people who had been authority figures for me only a short time ago, and even if Mrs Woodcock (she was French, but had married an English guy)
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