John, Dear - An Erotic Story
I am the small “top”, John. The little domme.
Slim ankles, tiny waist, size 6 shoe.
He is easily twice my size and reminds me of who you might resemble in a decade or two.
I am the small “top”, John. The little domme.
Slim ankles, tiny waist, size 6 shoe.
He is easily twice my size and reminds me of who you might resemble in a decade or two.
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?