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Sheila's First Taste of Bondage.
He described all of the things that he fantasized about when pulling himself off, and how it would feel, smell, taste and sound. He described shocking scenarios, fucking her in public, in groups, even sharing her with other men and women, how much he would love to watch another man's cock press deep into her, or watch her kissing another woman, their hands roaming over one another's most sensitive places, exploring those places that men so often lack the imagination to find. He described how he thought it would feel to fuck her up against the stall door of a public bathroom, or bent over a kitchen table, even went into detail about her bouncing on his cock as they rode a horse while locked in intimate embrace.
He described evenings in which the food and the sex were intertwined, of hours locked in an inverted embrace, mouths clamped over one another in passionate bliss. He talked about how he thought it might feel to slide his cock between her full breasts, or to move the crotch of her panties aside and plunge into her. He described how he imagined her mouth might feel on the head of his cock, and detailed how her fingernails would feel when dragged gently across his balls. He even told her that he sometimes slipped a finger into his own ass, imagining it were hers, just at his moment of crisis.
All of these descriptions came with details he had observed about her body, her sexuality, her quirks and body language. It was clear that he wanted to know as much as he could about her body to make his fantasies about her come alive. He asked detailed questions about her libido, her response, her Need. She could not believe he could spent this much time thinking about her body, her sex and his fantasies and not jump off the chair and onto the bed and ravish her completely. His restraint seemed superhuman.
And yet the parameters of these curious encounters were as clear as they were unspoken. He spoke often of how he loved his Need, how he nurtured it and inflamed his and how he loved watching it take hold of him. For him the Want was almost a religious experience, literally ecstatic, as the Self was ousted by the force of his desire, and his body became an instrument of Need.
This was how she came to be in this room with him, every few weeks. A room she chose for the soft north light coming through the gauzy curtains, plenty of pillows to sit back on and the all-important chair opposite the bed. She had photographed herself there before, the camera on self-timer on the chair as she succumbed to her own Need. She loved those photos, they showed her being proudly private, her moments of abandon, of being seized by her feminine passions.
And they looked good, too, and not just because of that wonderful light. She found she liked the photos of herself in the throes of desire more than she liked ordinary photos of herself. They seemed more honest somehow, and showed her as the woman she is, not who she makes herself up to be, what she presents to the world. She liked how the muscles of her legs appeared pronounced in their tensions, how he feet looked arched with desire. Her hands always looked feminine and pretty as they stroked her so intimately. She loved the way her tights or a shadow would play across her skin, emphasizing the curves that defined her body as that of a woman's. Through these photos she came to understand who she was as a woman.
After discovering the interval recording feature on her camera, she posted a sequence of eight or nine photos on a photo-sharing site, and this is how she found her man. The man sitting across from her now with this huge cock in one hand, his balls in the other, never taking his eyes off of her. His attention was aphrodisiac, she felt drunk in it, and her body responded fiercely and wetly to it. Thinking of all this, she had slid her other hand into her panties and was working herself furiously. She looked down for a moment to admire how the lace accentuated her curves, and her play, and he said again, more gutturally:
She knew what he wanted but knew better