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t.
"Would you like me to try on the black lycra bodysuit for you?
It's finished, hood and all," I said, thinking that the first step to
orgasm would be to get out of this torso. No matter how sexy it looks,
it is ultimately erotic only for the observer, not for the wearer.
Thinking objectively, almost everything else he has done to me is more
erotic than wearing this damn thing. But it does look sexy. And for
short periods it feels sexy. Sometimes. Like now. A moment ago I was
just miserable, and I will be again. It comes and goes.
But then I had to go to the bathroom. Not a sexy motive for
getting the thing off, but there it is. He made me wait, though. Not
that he was torturing me or anything, I just didn't tell him I had to
go. I think he just wanted to keep me on the edge a little longer. He
helped me teeter out to the garage, gently holding my upper arm and
guiding me as though he were politely ushering me into a posh restau-
rant (that image flashed through my mind for some reason)--except that
my wrists were pinioned in the center of my back and my posture was
unnaturally perfect. And of course I wasn't exactly dressed for formal
dining. I had to roll my eyes and turn my entire torso to the side
just to w
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