Delectable Deviants

Her boyfriend was so sure she was a good girl, yet I know of her desires.

She writes me letters, telling me of all the things she’s wanted to do, but hasn’t .. just. She strips naked and assumes the position. I spank her, hard, scathing her for all her sinful desires, all the times she’s masturbated thinking about fucking whomever - and for every climax she’s detailed, I strike her extra hard.

Of late she’s been writing me letters saying of how lustrous her fingers have been after the spanking. Of the looks she gives me, thinking of easing me out of my suit and into her mouth. Wondering what my cum tastes like, of how hard i’d fuck her.

Of course, I’ve thought about it myself, but choose not to tell her - throwing my ardour into rage as my hand cracks hard against her backside, curves into language as caress her deviance with language, amplify it - looking forward to the letter she will send me next. 

Lately her hand is getting ever more shaky as she writes. There’s an submission that even writing these notes have been difficult, as her mind wanders and her fingers follow.

Last night the paper contained but one sentence.

“Sir, please fuck me”

I consider her request. Of how I might turn that into punishment, or, as my own mind wanders, of granting her pleading request.

As static on my hand crackles and my cock throbs against my suit trousers, I muse over the options. Wanting to take her, to seize her desire roughly .. yet the inclination to see how much further I can push her is fucking delicious.

As the door opens she undresses. Puts her hands against the wall and throws me the naughtiest glance. Such a naughty girl and her now decisively cheating heart - blushing at the words contained in her last envelope - and wondering if i’d grant her request.

(via purdylilthings)