SubmissiveMidwesternMan
Experienced
- Joined
- Aug 15, 2017
- Posts
- 67
Looking to pass some time this Friday. Banter, conversation, roleplay. I'm open to all three as long as you bring your mind.
He arrived at her house just as dusk was approaching, the cool of the night air hugging his skin. Despite the chill of the air, he was warm as his fingers brushed against the weathered oaken door, tingles of anticipation about the history it knew and the hidden thrills it kept within. He had parked several blocks way and while the white picket fence offered a friendly charm in the daylight, at this hour their shadows seemed to mock him and send and ominous warming that once he stepped within their perimeter he’d never be the same.
As he felt the weathered oak, the strength within it flowed into his him, providing the courage to knock. “Clap, clap, clap” the sound echoed in his ears but for all he knew it could have been no louder than a whisper. The door opened, but through the darkness he saw nothing, but stepped in anyway, drawn by the intoxicating scent of the Angelic perfume, the light scent seemed mixture of mock orange blossoms and cherries. It was instantly intoxicating, despite the fact that the scent was subtle it still overpowered him.
He moved to the center of the room, where he felt her hands brush against his skin letting him know where to stop, her fingers nimble undo the buttons of his white shirt, baring the pale skin of his chest. She then positions his hands near his chest and hands him a candle, “Hold this” she says deviously. Then the “click, click, click” of her heels on the floor as she makes her way to the red chair across the room. A ceramic click he can’t place, followed by the sounds of someone nibbling on something, but very quickly he can’t focus on that was the warm wax starts dripping down onto his hands. “Hold still sweet boy” she chides, not really meaning it. As she grabs another cookie she can’t help but smile at the way he shimmies from the hot wax, “or not, after all you are my entertainment during dessert.”
He arrived at her house just as dusk was approaching, the cool of the night air hugging his skin. Despite the chill of the air, he was warm as his fingers brushed against the weathered oaken door, tingles of anticipation about the history it knew and the hidden thrills it kept within. He had parked several blocks way and while the white picket fence offered a friendly charm in the daylight, at this hour their shadows seemed to mock him and send and ominous warming that once he stepped within their perimeter he’d never be the same.
As he felt the weathered oak, the strength within it flowed into his him, providing the courage to knock. “Clap, clap, clap” the sound echoed in his ears but for all he knew it could have been no louder than a whisper. The door opened, but through the darkness he saw nothing, but stepped in anyway, drawn by the intoxicating scent of the Angelic perfume, the light scent seemed mixture of mock orange blossoms and cherries. It was instantly intoxicating, despite the fact that the scent was subtle it still overpowered him.
He moved to the center of the room, where he felt her hands brush against his skin letting him know where to stop, her fingers nimble undo the buttons of his white shirt, baring the pale skin of his chest. She then positions his hands near his chest and hands him a candle, “Hold this” she says deviously. Then the “click, click, click” of her heels on the floor as she makes her way to the red chair across the room. A ceramic click he can’t place, followed by the sounds of someone nibbling on something, but very quickly he can’t focus on that was the warm wax starts dripping down onto his hands. “Hold still sweet boy” she chides, not really meaning it. As she grabs another cookie she can’t help but smile at the way he shimmies from the hot wax, “or not, after all you are my entertainment during dessert.”
