LETTUCE.

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Loving Erotic Teasing, Torture and Unrelenting Carnal Ecstasy.

He likes being tied up and placed firmly at my mercy. Nowhere to go, nothing he can do. Just lay there and take it or be taken. In these moments, more than his trust - it is my integrity that takes center stage.


A kiss. A long, lingering kiss and a searching caress that explores the shape of his face and the feel of his head and neck. Touches and kisses that trail down neck, nape and nipples like a slow moving feather tracing new rivers of sensations.


Soft, large breasts brushing against his skin, pressing into his flesh as I lean over him and rest. Applying a delicate ribbon of restraint to his manhood and coiling around the soft sack of his scrotum. A plum. Tight skinned, full and swollen and nearly bursting with ripe sensitivity. The sharp edges of my fingernails delicately skim the surface of his fruit and a hot, wet tongue introduces heat, moisture and sensual temperature change where it lands.


Lube curls generously around a gloved finger. A translucent jelly of slickness preparing everything in its path for the delicious sensation of slippery, exploratory caresses with a small, slender finger. Slow circles before gentle probing, tracing the seam between hither and yon, delicate orbits around the tight eggs held in place with ribbon and erotic intentions. A set of fingers becoming fronds of seaweed exploring and measuring limits and sensations in all directions at once. 


Nipples gently pinched, bitten, caressed. An erect salute of manhood, embraced in the curl of a slender, soft hand and long, feminine fingers riding slowly up the flagpole before leaving in a flutter like the invisible flag that salutes her.

A pause in his breath. 

A shudder.

Arching back.

Rising hips.

Silent demands for more

of everything.


Another kiss before entry. Slowly inserting, exploring the resistance, whispering the dirtiest of naughty endearments and the most erotic invectives while a free hand explores the fruit displayed on a tableau of masculine flesh.


A moan.

A deeper release from somewhere deeper inside than flesh would suggest.

Reluctant embrace of my insistence

and his surrender.


More caresses. Kisses, Long, soft strokes and wet, teasing tasting. Whispers. Scratchy sensations. Soft sensations. Long, soft hair falling across his face. Enormous soft, natural breasts enveloping his face like a hiding place for robbers and rogues.

His mouth opens and I fill it.

His hand opens and I fill it.

His body opens and I fill it.

With everything he is willing to take.

He can have anything he wants

while he is in this position to receive instead of take.


More toys and tools and unique sources of sensations.

More, dirtier, sexier, wetter, harder, hungrier...

Keeping him on the edge while I dance merrily on the precipice

keeping us both on sharp, controlled, delicate, balanced, exquisite

tortured

want.


And we go on and on and on... I won't stop until his body tells me it can't go on anymore and I have no choice but to surrender it back to him; the original owner.