. if I really had one.“Can I buy you a drink?” Someone talked to me.Glanced over at him, I saw a face which was my favorite type.So I nodded my head yes.And then, of course, what we had was not only a drink.“I think you’re just my style.” He raised his who-knows-refilled-how-many-times cup to my eyes. On which I wrinkled my nose, and sighed to myself: He had no idea what he was talking about. This idea upset me so much that I took one more drink, And one more.At last, we both got really drunk.“We’ve got to go.” I heard him talking to me.“I agree.” That’s all I can say.He took me home. It’s a beautifully quiet house.He tried to take all of my clothes off, but hands suddenly stopped.“I’m not a girl. “ I sighed, and confessed to him, “I’m just a boy in a girl’s clothes.Too long had I hidden my secret. I didn’t know what is waiting for me when I told the truth.He’s kind of frightened, and disappointed, but dicker still stiff.So I said: “Why not let me help you?”He hesitated and touched. Knowing that she hated the way her stomach looked when she was on all fours, he made a point of petting her even there, reminding her that he loved every part of her, that every part was his, a strike landing against her belly when she tried to tense it up and hide it from him. When she had relaxed but for the effort of remaining still, he brought her head back around, water again put to her lips for her to drink. Whimpering, she pulled back from the water only to have him urge her to drink more. That grin of his still in place, he sat back again when she finished. But for his feet on her, he didn't touch her, not giving her any further distractions from the need he knew would be all consuming soon enough. The first squirm of discomfort was met with the sting of the crop, the next the same as were those to come until even the strike was not enough to still her or quiet her needful whimpering. A glance given the clock, he counted off the minutes more that he would make her.
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