Jason’s breath is a furnace between my legs. My sex is wet and swollen with excitement well before his lips touch my flesh. My hardened nipples are adorned with glittery, black clips. I am taut with arousal.
We’re home in our bedroom. I’m naked, flat on my back on our padded massage table. My hands and feet are cuffed, spread wide, raised high—connected by snap hooks to chains hanging from the ceiling. To say I feel vulnerable is an understatement.
Jason sits in his desk chair surveying my once private parts. Smiling he leans in, inhaling in my aroma. Electric-like current courses through me, lighting me up from the inside out and craving his touch above everything. I gaze at him smiling, entreating him with my eyes. Please sir, may I have more?
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