Originally Posted by tasineah

I have had several long distance relationships and the waiting between visits is agonizingly pleasurable. (I tend to like restriction...giving and receiving) I pace myself intentionally for the moment you speak of. I wait it out, allowing moments along the way to the date, to creep in where I can indulge in thoughts that may or may not produce actions on my part...the closer to the date of meeting, the more I upp the stimulus...songs, hungry phone conversations...tantric meditations...

as I prime myself to fly to them (in any fashion) I take my time in preparation...again the agony...hot steaming shower, careful removal of all hair I designate that needs gone, edible tastey softening lotions applied where I know lips and tongue will slide...

as I peer into the mirror and apply my best face..the face that will look up into eyes that will bellow for release, I remember my worth as their female. Carefully I apply my lipcoat. SMACK. Oh those lips...what they will do for him...

naked I walk to my closet filled with specialties. Copper bras and matching garters ...ivory stockings with seams up the back. I slide on a simple cream colored shell. You can see the distinction of the lace through it. Perfect. On goes my skirt. Short enough so that when I slide into his car, he will see my thigh and the taut garter that he will bite and hold onto later...

its all about seduction...my seduction of myself, of my own needs, of my wants, of him (or her). There isnt a move I make on that day that isnt about that first contact, that first kiss, that first feeling of his pants growing tight...

if I am capable, and sometimes I am not..but if I am, after that incredible first kiss, sometimes I will say "lets talk" with such sincerity, that I can see his bulging head pulse against his pants. His adams apple will bob once, maybe twice as he swallows as he simply nods and says "yes, of course, lets talk", for as a missus, what I say, goes. I set the pace. I determine how and when and where and more...

and there is always more....

but even I am human, merely human (and not a dongless Jesus Christ..laughing pleasantly at the label I have pulled out of my sack....) and I too must succumb to need...

and I know, he has prepped and come to me in the form and fashion I expect...donned and gussied up just for me, to my taste and specifications...and my long pink nails will finger his belt and slide between the buttons of his shirt and I will reach up and grab a handful of his hair and twist it slight enough for tension and lean him down to my mouth and Iwill whisper...

Mine.....

and then the tribute to our sexing will begin...no more resistriction. No more restraint...it can all become undone now, in a swirl of all that build up being let loose...