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!”
The author recalls an event from his youth which involved his sister and her frends
This was once again set up by my younger sister. I was lying on the couch watching TV when she looked in at the window above the couch.
“Why is the door locked?” she wanted to know.
“To keep annoying girls outside” I informed her.
“Then you should have shut the window too” she replied, and with that, she jumped up so that she was kneeling on the window ledge, and then swung around so her feet were thrust inside. She was wearing blue jeans with black socks and white sandshoes, the soles of the sandshoes were white but were grubby, probably from the dirt in the garden outside the window. She reached down with one foot and put it right on my chest, then she stepped on me full weight, and swung her other foot over me and onto the couch next to me. Continue reading “Stepped under the window sill”
A guy gets to be trampled unknowingly while hiding under carpet in carpet store.
Before I had left school I had a Saturday job working in the local carpet shop (warehouse) as a general hand. This is a true story I thought might interest you.
One of the secretaries (Debbie was her name) always wore high heel shoes or boots and thought nothing of walking or climbing all over the rolls of carpet. I got to work a little early one morning and while nobody was looking I piled up some carpet offcut in the doorway of the office. Then I hid behind some rolls of carpet and waited until Debbie came in. I heard the clip-clop of her heels on the wooden piece of the floor just down the corridor, as she came to the door of her office she walked straight on to the carpet then went into the office. Continue reading “Carpet Roll Trample”