He told me the movie “Secretary” was important to his life.
I promptly agreed to date him.
The conversations, the laughter, the meals are all of no consequence. Perhaps the only purpose to highlight it, would be that there was a connection.
He was quirky, eccentric, honest, straight forward with a very dirty minded streak. He kept inching closer to find my boundaries. He was giving and never turned down a chance to look me directly in the eye.
When given the option, “Do you want another drink, or….," ... I opted for the "or.”
Hours later, my hands and feet were in restraints, a rope pinned me down, a speculum was in my vagina and there was a bar between my legs.
There was also the multiple spankings throughout my entire body with the riding crop.
There was the choking. The slapping. The biting.
There were nipple clamps and another clamp on my clit.
What do you do when your partner gets a sweet tooth?
Can we just make my taste buds happy and your body happier
Take one of each flavored skittle and line it up on your thigh and the last skittle on your clit now dont move lets see how sharp my mouth is as i close my eyes i must eat one skittle after another guessing the correct flavor until i get to the final one if i get anywrong we must start over if i get them all right i kiss your clit and the reward will be 69.....taste the rainbow
Ever wonder what happens behind the scenes as the Sweet Spot Crew prepares for and produces a Sweet Spot Show? Here's your chance to get an all access look. This was the drama of the DC Show in March 2015
A few years back I dated the most dapper pilot I've ever seen in my life. Here's an excerpt from one of our encounters.
He told me that sex was an 11 course meal. He said that he liked to take his time and devour.
I thought the kisses on my neck and his hand up my thigh was at least round one as we ate dinner in the West Village. I should have known I was in for it when the evening included oysters and champagne.
A few hours later, we sat in his kitchen drinking his homemade hot chocolate. The recipe is to DIE FOR. He began planting kisses upon my neck, my hands, my hair.
“I love how your hair smells,” he said tugging it a little. Oh lord!
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He grabbed my chin and turned me towards him then looked me dead in the eye. “11 courses,” he repeated.
“And which is this?” I asked. By my calculations we were on 3, maybe 4.