An excellent author has written an erotic story that captures power play between a dominant woman and a man wanting to be her sub. He masterfully depicts erotic views of food and object crushing and trampling.
Bridget was bright, and we had (mainstream) shared interests. And she was married, so in a way that made approaching her easier. She was doing very nicely, thank you, and she was never going to leave that nest. But I knew, now, how to eroticize even the business of being second best. As time went on, and as we got closer, I wrote poems and letters for her, setting out my fantasies, where she was obviously the target. Actual letters, that she could have shown people. I wanted her to use me, I made clear, and in pretty much any way she saw fit. I’d lay myself at her feet, for her pleasure. She didn’t even have to consider proper sex.
I sent her photos, too. Of me, and of people who were important to me. Then, one day, out of the blue, they were returned, by post. She’d sent them back – crumpled and dirty, with clear shoeprints and heel marks all over them, along with the general mud and shit. There was a scribbled note, along with the pictures. She said she’d dropped them by the back door, where she’d been taking the dogs in and out (yes, another doggy girl, which makes you wonder?) and she’d forgotten they were there, for a day or two. She said she was sorry, and that actually she thought it had been a combination of the mud and the bottoms of her trainers had made the worst of the mess of them. Continue reading “Bridget, my dream girl! 4.8 (6)“
