[Continued from guest writer Dick Cramden's "First Date (Part 2)."]

When I returned, I had a bag into which I had put the instruments of further pleasure.  The first thing I removed was a long satin scarf.  I love silk, but satin is cool and smooth, and heavier than silk.  Lightly, I let the edge of the scarf graze your skin from your left foot, slowly up your left leg, down between your thighs and over your pussy, over your tummy, over your right breast then over your left, then down and up between them, over your neck, over your chin, over your mouth, your nose, your eyes.

I folded the scarf length wise once.  Then again.  Then I used it to blindfold you.  Covering your forehead, eyes, and half your nose, I tied the scarf on the side of your head.

You heard me go into the bag.  Then you heard nothing for a moment.  A long moment.

You heard a few clicks, but nothing else.  Then music, and soft sultry singing, a song sung in French covered you like a blanket.

Suddenly you felt the cool touch of another scarf starting on your right foot and moving slowly up your body. It slid over your left breast and across your left arm.  A moment later you felt it around your wrist, and your arm was pulled slightly upward as I tied your left arm to the headboard.

Another scarf made its way from your left foot up your body, across your right breast, right arm … and soon your right arm was likewise tied to the headboard.

And there you were, my lover, unable to move, unable to know what the next sensation would be.  My sex toy, willfully submitted to let me have my way with you.

I let my fingers slide over your body until my hand came to a rest on your cheek.  Your lips sought out my thumb and sucked it into your mouth.  I removed my thumb and replaced it with my tongue so we could share a long, lust-filled kiss.  You could sense from it that I wanted to fuck you.  As we kissed my hand slid down your body.  Straight down to your sopping wet pussy.  My middle and ring fingers started to encircle your opening.  Your hips started to undulate to the rhythm of my fingers.

Suddenly, both fingers plunged into you.  Your hips raised up grinding your clit into the palm of my hand.  You moaned into my mouth.  My fingers rubbed the wet, velvety skin inside you, and you moaned more.  I moved my hand so that my thumb could rub back and forth over your clit as I kept rubbing and massaging you from the inside, and you moaned more.  Your legs started to move around, and I pulled my hand from your sex and I said, “Don’t move.”  You could feel that I left the bed.

There is no sound for a moment.  A long moment.

[To be continued ….]

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