Your lips hover above mine, your tongue running along the cold, crimson stiffness that once pleasured you orally--and now destined never to do so agai.... Bolder now, your hand slips into my blouse to fondle my left tit. Poking and prodding and squeezing as you kiss my face. Unsatisfied, you move lower, and fumble with the button on my pants.I wear nothing beneath the pantyhose; shorn even of my strawberry bush by morticians you realize likely took liberties with me already. Your hand slips. I actually fell asleep early, before midnight, probably because I was exhausted already. Or maybe it's John's couch. I always seem to fall asleep on it whenever I'm there.My dream had left me feeling unfulfilled and antsy. It had been intense. Anyway, in the dream I'm bound to this big pillar, my arms wrapped around it and my face rested against cool stone. I hear the footsteps of someone behind me. It's my Master, or at least its my soon-to-be-Master. In my dream I realize that I'm not a. More

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