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Design lust is to small a word a small little role play There was a brief pause on the line. Then his voice crackled into life. Finally the lit came through, the Dublin brogue, I felt myself go wet. This is a dream from which one can not wake up, I thought to myself. His voice went lower, he was whispering now, telling me what to do. Directions I can take, rules I can understand. It was after all supposed to be a game, a small little role play. He, in his nice suit, a few hundred miles away, sat in a lushly upholstered chair. His zipper was down; his cock in his hand. I heard him breathe in and knew he was hard. Such a simple deceit, we played by ourselves and in each others minds. If anyone asks, be them fools or Mormons, tell them that the mind is the largest sex organ on the body. His voice alone can still make me cum. What is it about being owned? The role of the submissive is filled with power, a sort of free falling, building up speed, taking me into dangerous new ground�sigh�I make such a great bitch.
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