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Words alone would never express the satisfaction she got from rubbing their essence all over her body. It was pure, unimaginable, bliss. Completely satisfied and content only one thing remained, her master’s manhood. Saving the best for last, she got on all fours, and without the use of her hands engulfed her master’s member, sucking him clean. Then with a self-satisfied smile she would give her master a light kiss and scuttle off to the bathroom, making her now routine post-intercourse tinkle, being sure to only wash her lower orifices. She insisted that the rest of her body was to remain covered with her master’s essence, which was just the way she liked it. Jubilant and satisfied she returned to her master, eagerly awaiting mention of their next adventure together. CHAPTER 2HEAD AND TAILS: A NAUGHTY COMPULSION Gazing across the bed she notices a pleasant sight: her master, the only person she has come to love more than life itself. She smiles to herself, a simple loving smile,. I was sixteen in 1970 and was proud that I’d managed to get a part time job at a neighborhood grocery store near the campus. A few students frequented the store but the clientele were mostly faculty, staff, and others who lived nearby. There was one guy who came in about once a month to buy up a lot of snack food and soft drinks. He said they were for a party and eventually he asked if I’d like to come to one. This was near the end of the semester at the University and I was flattered that this college guy—an athlete, I learned—was interested in me. I told him I’d like to go and he agreed to pick me up. I was going on a date!My parents weren’t too enthused about me going out with an older guy, but when they found out who it was, they approved. I didn’t understand how well-known this guy was. He excelled in two sports and there was a lot of speculation already regarding what pro teams would recruit him. My father was a fan.The party wasn’t what I expected. I’d worn a nice party dress.
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Did you ever do the crush thing?’ ‘Me? I always did the crush thing.’ I was putting my bits and pieces in my elderly leather satchel. ‘I still do, Emily.’ I couldn’t look at her of course. This was because she was the object of my current crush. It’s so easy to write for someone about whom you harbour deep longing. You write your fantasy image of her, dress her as you would want her to dress, give her words you want her to say. ‘Did I do OK?’ Emily is not the sort to show her need for reassurance and I was momentarily stunned. ‘No.’ ‘No?’ ‘No. OK is a long way short of what you did. You were, are brilliant. You were word perfect and you moved almost faultlessly. Once you’re dressed for the role you will BE the role. The worst thing you do is make everyone else look hopeless.’ ‘Almost faultlessly?’ Trust Emily to pick on the smallest negative. ‘It’s the part where you stop talking and do the business with the ‘phone. You let it ring too long. You need to snatch it from the table..

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