i8uslowly1
TMF Novice
- Joined
- May 18, 2003
- Messages
- 51
- Points
- 0
She was slick and shiny, from head to toe.
Slippery, shiny, sticky and sweet.
She watched me. She looked so yummy, doe-like eyes, wet blonde bangs, pink stocking knot-gag still neatly tied. An exhausted little fighter with delicious desperation.
Delight. I felt it caress me...her helpless gaze.
A morsel. A sweet, tempting, yummy little morsel…just five feet of fit, girlish little gymnastic wonder.
Eighteen. Soft, succulent and sublime.
I leaned down close, hearing her, a single finger descending slowly, patiently, to touch lightly upon her nipple, tired body tensing, firm and shining against the satin sheets, naked but for a perfect pair of panties pink, my pretty little plaything.
I flubbed her little nipple, slowly, playing, before gliding down her breast, my fingers splayed out, sliding lightly over her oiled tummy, squiggling slowly, slowly as they descended, turning as they went. Not too much, just a quiver will do, not a wild, bucking coochie-coo.
She squirmed, but syrupy slow, so tired and weak, wrists tied tight together to the iron frame, arms stretched taut, gagged with a knot, ankles lashed to the posts, legs flexing so firm, a most delicious, slippery squirm.
I leaned down close to hear her as my fingers crept across her panties, dividing to trace down opposite seams before rejoining lightly upon the slippery silk, her tenderness beneath.
Lazily I drew my finger through her matted bangs with my free hand as I peered down at my damsel’s face, her distress now near electric. Gently, I began to softly sweep across her her silken panties, just brushing her petals as I fondled and felt.
“Cute lil’ Christie, caught in a trap,” I whispered, close, “Pleasure torture, slower than sap.”
She tried to turn away but her arms, bound stretched hard to the frame, held her tight before me.
“Red plum, raspberry, blueberry, grape,” I continued, softly, “All sweet and sticky, not a chance of escape.”
Patiently, purposely, I played upon her through her panties…
“Boysenberry, apricot and joy just out of reach,” I went, “I’d have to say you’ve tasted best when glistening in peach.”
Ghostly touches of the faintest kind swept across her silken shield and coaxed from her a kitten’s squeal that thrilled me with delight.
I smiled broadly as I continued, feeling the girlish little blonde squirm so weakly, tired and sore, “Peppermint it is..."
Slippery, shiny, sticky and sweet.
She watched me. She looked so yummy, doe-like eyes, wet blonde bangs, pink stocking knot-gag still neatly tied. An exhausted little fighter with delicious desperation.
Delight. I felt it caress me...her helpless gaze.
A morsel. A sweet, tempting, yummy little morsel…just five feet of fit, girlish little gymnastic wonder.
Eighteen. Soft, succulent and sublime.
I leaned down close, hearing her, a single finger descending slowly, patiently, to touch lightly upon her nipple, tired body tensing, firm and shining against the satin sheets, naked but for a perfect pair of panties pink, my pretty little plaything.
I flubbed her little nipple, slowly, playing, before gliding down her breast, my fingers splayed out, sliding lightly over her oiled tummy, squiggling slowly, slowly as they descended, turning as they went. Not too much, just a quiver will do, not a wild, bucking coochie-coo.
She squirmed, but syrupy slow, so tired and weak, wrists tied tight together to the iron frame, arms stretched taut, gagged with a knot, ankles lashed to the posts, legs flexing so firm, a most delicious, slippery squirm.
I leaned down close to hear her as my fingers crept across her panties, dividing to trace down opposite seams before rejoining lightly upon the slippery silk, her tenderness beneath.
Lazily I drew my finger through her matted bangs with my free hand as I peered down at my damsel’s face, her distress now near electric. Gently, I began to softly sweep across her her silken panties, just brushing her petals as I fondled and felt.
“Cute lil’ Christie, caught in a trap,” I whispered, close, “Pleasure torture, slower than sap.”
She tried to turn away but her arms, bound stretched hard to the frame, held her tight before me.
“Red plum, raspberry, blueberry, grape,” I continued, softly, “All sweet and sticky, not a chance of escape.”
Patiently, purposely, I played upon her through her panties…
“Boysenberry, apricot and joy just out of reach,” I went, “I’d have to say you’ve tasted best when glistening in peach.”
Ghostly touches of the faintest kind swept across her silken shield and coaxed from her a kitten’s squeal that thrilled me with delight.
I smiled broadly as I continued, feeling the girlish little blonde squirm so weakly, tired and sore, “Peppermint it is..."
