Jul 102007
 

What are you into? Spanking? Bondage? School skirts? Fucking? Domination?

I crave the narrative. I need the context for what we are about to do. Give me a premise, a situation, or a story and I will be ready to go. My cock will pick the direction but my brain will find the new ways to play. Let me write a story on her body, let me tell a tale on her tail and let me create an adventure just for her and me.

I’m not talking about role-playing, which is something I enjoy too. I will be happy to play the stern teacher or the disapproving doctor, but it’s not necessary to clothe ourselves in fiction. There are stories floating around us constantly waiting to start with an kick-ass opening line. Has someone been flirting with me all night long and needs to be chased like the prey that she is? Has something been extra good and deserves a little reward for being so sweet? Did someone make me an offer with a shy glance, a forward comment or a delicious moment of begging? Real drama exists between everyone and that is what I love to tap into.

So what’s your story?

  6 Responses to “The Narrative”

  1. It’s a bad time for me to respond – but you are asking at a good time for me – just got done w/ a 2hr drive wishing about a, b and c….I’ll tell you a, b & c later.

  2. i’m not sure what my story is. my story is influenced in large part by Him. He’s given me lovely inspiration over the last year. Primarily, i’m His little girl and i like that a lot.

  3. My story begins many ways, but always end with me sore and sweaty and completely spent.

  4. My story is long and beautiful, but not complex. My story is that I have finally learned to love and accept my own sexuality, treating it with care, love and acceptance, letting it guide me to explore the things that fascinate and interest me, no matter what they are or how badly they scare me. My story is that now that He is gone, I can see my sexuality apart from a lover, see that it stands alone and strong.

    My story is moving forward.

  5. You know my story.
    Can you handle me?
    Smart, tough, independent, take-no-shit, sassy and strong… and I can’t stop reading you. And no one will ever, ever know.
    Except you.

    Can you handle me?
    I do not know “the culture.” I do not know the nomenclature, the names, the buzz words. All I know is the burning, aching dark starvation in the core of my cunt.

    I never, ever, use the word “cunt.”

    My intelligence is too intimidating. My imagination expands at the speed of light. My desires are way, way, way too much.

    Can you handle me?

  6. …and, ok, school skirts are a dandy place to start. ;)

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