The boys were helped up, untied and the blindfolds removed. We all then went off to our bedrooms. I pestered Charlene for some details but she smiled ...nd told me that my master wanted to sleep so I should just cuddle! I personally think she was enjoying this a wee bit too much. The next morning, as I got up and started getting dressed, I was told by my master, that my clothes were not required. However, with a smile on her face, Charlene did allow me the option of wearing the frilly little. What happened to them to prejudge me for what I choose to write? More importantly, what happened to me for writing all that I write? Am I as twisted as my readers for writing the stories that they read? Who am I kidding? What I write is more than just a story. What I write are my sexual fantasies. A fast forward movie of naked men and naked women and of cocks, tits, asses, and pussies that constantly barrage and continually run through my mind before emerging from my brain down to my fingertips. ‘No! We haven’t. Things are different now, Gage!’ Natasha said, growing more upset by the minute. She felt selfish for trying to make Gage stay when she knew it was what he wanted more than anything, but didn’t he want her more than anything, too? ‘I can’t do this right now… We’ll talk later. I’ll call you, Nat.’ He said quietly, unraveling his arms from around her waist, before joining Ricky. It was the wrong thing to do, Gage knew this… Leaving Natasha alone in the school parking lot only. She had that look. Like the right man can have her. But you have to capture her imagination in some way. Later that morning, my immediate boss told me to go work in the woman's department. I acted coy purposely. I hadn't been there long before I approached her. Her voice was sweeter than candy. Her laugh was as charming as 1950s tv mother. She was perfect in every way possible. I looked for a wedding ring, but she kept her hands in her front pockets on her outfit. I figured she was not.
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