209 lines
11 KiB
Plaintext
209 lines
11 KiB
Plaintext
Purple Silk Scarves
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copyright (c) 1990 by D!
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The room is warm, almost too warm. I am slightly damp from
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perspiration, and the occasional draft makes me shiver.
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The room is filled with a warm, diffuse light, sunlight
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through heavy lace curtains, giving the place an antique feel. The
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air smells of potpourri, mingled with red wine and musk.
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My eyes travel lazily along the ceiling, until they reach the
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far wall, where a full-length mirror stands across from the foot of
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the bed, tilted slightly forward in its heavy oak frame. The image
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staring back at me from the mirror commands my attention: a
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exquisite brass four-poster bed, and on it a beautiful woman, naked,
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her arms stretched tautly over her head, and her legs reaching out
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toward the posts at the foot of the bed.
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That's me, with my wrists bound together by that long purple
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band of silk. That's me, chest rising and falling more quickly than
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usual below tight, shiny skin. That's me, lying there on the new
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beautiful bed we shopped for for so long, and bought just for this
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purpose. That's me . . . finally.
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Absorbed as I am in the image of myself, Robert's voice
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startles me. "You certainly are a beautiful sight, love." I turn
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my attention to him, as he stands by the side of the bed, a glass of
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wine in his hand, smiling warmly down at me.
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"Robert, kiss me . . ." I start to say, but he leans over me,
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and presses his finger to my lips, and says "Shhhh. Not a sound."
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But he kisses me anyway, lightly, gently, on the lips. He takes a
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sip of the wine he is holding, then dips his finger into the glass.
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With his wet finger, he traces my lips, then bends over and licks
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the wine from my lips. His feather-light touch makes me shiver.
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He continues with the wine, drawing his finger from behind my
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ear to the hollow of my throat, then following with his tongue. He
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traces a line down between my breasts; the evaporating alcohol is
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cold for a moment, but his tongue is warm and soft. Mmmmmmm. I was
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unaware that I had actually made a sound, but Robert warns me again,
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"Silence..." And so I am silent, eager to please my lover and to
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make this moment perfect for both of us.
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A drop of wine on the left nipple, which hardens instantly,
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before he licks it off with a mere brush of his tongue. And then
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the same to the right nipple. His light, fleeting touch has
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awakened my sensitive nipples, and they cry out for more. I arch my
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back toward his mouth, but he has already moved on to other places.
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A drop of wine on the soft underside of my arm. A
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almost-tickling lick along my navel. A wet trail along the crease
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where my thigh meets my body. Each touch a brief spark that
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awakens and arouses a new part of my body, just enough to tease but
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not enough to satisfy.
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He licks a trail of red off of my inner thigh, and I can't
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contain my gasp. My whole body feels alive, itching for his touch.
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I want him to lick up, up, to move his tongue between my legs, but
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he's gone again, standing next to the bed, watching my flushed form
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on the bed. I look up at him, pleading with my eyes, Robert,
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Robert, touch me. . .
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"How can I resist those eyes?" he asks, with mock mournfulness.
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"You don't really want me finish yet, do you?" My body cries yes,
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but at the same time I savor the delicious frustration, and I know
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the answer. The question is rhetorical. Robert goes to the dresser
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by the bed, and returns with another broad band of soft purple silk,
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like the ones that bind my wrists and ankles. This one he drapes
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across my eyes, then lifts my head and ties it expertly in place.
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The removal of vision heightens my other senses. I become aware
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of the sound of cars in the distance, and the wind in the tree
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outside the window. I become aware of the smell of Robert and the
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smell of me. I smile and relax, delighting in hypersensitivity of
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my body and the feeling of anticipation.
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I am not disappointed. Robert starts touching me again,
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returning to the top of my body. He strokes my face with his
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fingers, and his touch is firmer now, more demanding, more
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satisfying. He holds my hair, grasping it. Holding my head firmly,
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he kisses me on the lips, deeply this time; no more fleeting touches,
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this time his kiss is filled with passion, and I meet it with my
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own.
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He breaks the kiss too soon, and leaves me gasping for air. Now
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he is rubbing my body with smooth, firm strokes. He rubs my
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shoulders, my arms, my sides, my belly. He rubs my breasts, and
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this time when I arch toward him, he doesn't pull away. Instead, he
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holds them, kneads them. He grasps my nipples between his fingers,
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first lightly, but with increasing pressure. A moan escapes my
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parted lips, but Robert doesn't seem to mind; instead of a warning,
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he pinches my nipples firmly and tugs, and I am suddenly dizzy from
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the pleasure.
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Forgetting my situation, I reach up to wrap my arms around him,
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but the strip of silk holds my hands tightly to the bar between the
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posts at the head of the bed. Straining against the bonds
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accentuates my frustration and longing, and I moan again.
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Robert continues pulling on my nipples, till they reach a point
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just short of pain, and my back is arched as far up as it will go.
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Once again, he breaks his hold too quickly, but before I have a
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chance to feel disappointed, he replaces his fingers with his mouth
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on my left nipple, sucking it in, pressing it between his tongue and
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teeth, rolling it around with his tongue.
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My breath is quick and ragged now, as I strain towards him. He
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grabs both breasts in his hands, and shifts his mouth to the other
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nipple. Oooooh. It feel so good. And then he stops.
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He pauses, just long enough for the frustration to register on
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my face, and then he resumes his broad hand strokes on my belly, and
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sliding down to my thighs. He draws his hands down the outside of
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my legs, to my feet. He rubs each foot with his palms, with just
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enough firmness to avoid tickling me. He rubs each toe with his
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thumb and draws his fingers along my instep. Then he moves his
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hands back up my legs, on the inside this time. His broad, smooth
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hands stop inches before where my thighs meet.
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No, don't stop, Robert. . .keep going. . .up, up, please. But I
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don't have to say anything. He knows how badly I want him to touch
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me there, but instead he massages my thighs. Each stroke brings him a
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hairsbreadth closer to to my nether lips. I strain against the
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bands on my ankles, but they hold my legs apart, making me feel
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exposed and ready for his touch.
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He strokes gently the line where my outer labia meet my thighs.
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The touch is light and agonizing. And now he leans forward, and I
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can feel his warm breath against my clit, stirring the wispy hair
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there. He blows against me, and the coolness against the moisture
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there makes me jump. I arch toward him, but he still doesn't touch
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me inside; he just keeps maddeningly stroking my outer lips.
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He stops. Just as I am about to start begging him to touch
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me, he brushes my exposed clit with another one of his quick,
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fleeting touches. The touch is an electric shock through my body.
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It is gone in an instant, but every muscle in my body tenses in that
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instant, straining for his touch. After a moment, my breath returns
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and my muscles start to relax, and he touches again, briefly,
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sending new waves of pleasure through my taut body. Oh God, how
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much more of this can I stand? Please, please, keep going, don't
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stop, Oh God, don't stop. . .
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He stops. Again I start to relax, and this time I feel his
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tongue, pushing its way between my folds. Carefully avoiding my
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clit, he licks around the foreskin. He gently sucks my labia into
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his mouth, rubbing his tongue along the underside. Then the other.
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Then around the clit again. Then a quick flick of his tongue across
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the tip. I gasp, realizing that I have been holding my breath.
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Again, the same electricity courses through my body. Another moan.
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After some more teasing, Robert licks my clit again, this time
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firmly. He draws his tongue in circles around the head, and then
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sucks it into his mouth, pressing it between his teeth and tongue.
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Yes, yes! Holding my clit between his lips, he flicks it with
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increasing tempo with his tongue. Then he sucks again, and for a
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timeless moment I am held on the brink, as a washing, tingling
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pleasure starts to spread from between my legs up my back.
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He stops. The tingling recedes. No, no, don't stop! He
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lightly pinches my thighs, and I realize that this time I've
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actually spoken. I continue to plead with him, Robert, Robert,
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don't hold me here, touch me, touch me. . . I can't see his face
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with my make-shift blindfold on, but I know he is smiling. That's
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what he was waiting for.
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With that, he slips a finger inside me, and I start thrusting
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eagerly against his hand. His thumb rubs my clit, lightly but with
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increasing pressure, as the rate of my thrusting increases. He
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slips another finger in, and starts his own thrusting, faster and
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faster, pressing against my clit, rubbing it, teasing it. I feel
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the tingling sensation start again. Please, Robert, let it
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happen. . . and he keeps thrusting. Suddenly my whole body is awash
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with pleasure. I see white light behind my eyelids, and every muscle
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in my body convulses. My legs strain against the soft restraints
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but I have no awareness of being tied down. For a brief, timeless
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moment I am floating, my entire being centered around Robert's
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thrusting hand.
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And before I land, before my convulsions subside, Robert is on
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me, and in me. He thrusts with such ferocity, such passion, that he
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keeps me floating. Unbelievably, the pleasure intensifies. The
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entire world consists of me and Robert, pounding, thrusting, crying
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out in pleasure, floating. I think I scream, but I'm not sure. The
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aching, insistent pleasure lasts forever, and I hear Robert's own
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growling gasps as he joins me on my exquisite plane of pleasure.
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Yes, Robert, Robert, I love you!
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Slowly the pleasure subsides, the convulsions become less
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intense and further apart. My body relaxes and I become aware of
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Robert's weight lying heavily on top of me, of the ties that still
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bind my wrists and ankles. Without getting off me, Robert slips the
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blindfold off over my head. As I knew it would be, his own faced is
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flushed, his hair in disarray. Still staying in me, he reaches up
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and unties the strip of cloth that holds my wrists together, and I
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bring them down and wrap my arms tightly around him.
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For a long time we stay that way, my lover's weight against my
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body, my arms holding him close. For a long time we lay in our
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beautiful new bed, recovering from its first use. Hopefully the
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first of many.
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----
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Copyright (c) 1990 by D!
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You are free to copy this as long as your recipients have
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the same right, and you retain this copyright notice.
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