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what can only be termed erotic desperation, I
wrote my own ad. I asked for a woman in hope of recapturing what
I'd enjoyed with Colleen. I asked for a couple in the hopes of
being carried further by Yuka's knowing touch and his reckless
strength.
Seeing the ad was a disturbing experience in itself. Above it
appeared my photo: standing in a forest, wearing nothing but a
choker, sandals, and a tan. The white bathing suit marks set off
my breasts and the triangle of my pubic hair.
I started to wonder about who else was looking at the photo,
that very minute, and what they were thinking. A shiver ran
through me -- a shiver of fear and anticipation. What old friend
or lover might see it and wonder at the Katherine they never knew?
And what new friends were even then stirred by my picture and
sitting down to write me?
My mind's eye filled with images from all my fantasies of
being bound and submissive, and I ran my slick fingertips in
faster and faster circles over my swollen clit. I sropped the
magazine to the floor as the sexual energy spread in waves
throughout my body, heat radiating from my flushed skin, my breath
fast and shallow. As the sensations rose to a familiar peak, I
reached under my blouse and squeezed the swollen nipple of
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