Its cold outside,Baby.
The bedroom is as hot as summer.
She is naked, sweating, defenseless as he smooths shut the Velcro on the sturdy nylon straps. She cannot back out now. She pulls experimentally — her arms are stopped; she relaxes — the chain links jingle. She fears what might happen.
One child-summer she stood terrified atop the ten-meter diving board, afraid of the hugeness beyond the edge. Six times she’d climbed up the tall ladder, then down. This time, a lineup grew along the ladder until she could not back out. When she dived, she flew exalted until the cool green water took her in.
His calloused hands are firm on her milk-soft skin. She twists jingling until his clever kisses urge her beyond coyness, beyond too-sensitivity. She is wet all over, he coaxes wetness, between her buttocks, matting her hair. Her lips are open and slick.
His finger is thick and long inside her. “No!” she cries, though her desire is bright as July. He muffles her with kisses and she has no defenses left now, not even the safeword.
He is inside her, driving and needy.
She is flying so high she cannot breathe. Orgasm engulfs her.
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whoa girl…i think im gonna have to go thumb the button…jesus!!!thats fuckin hott!!