Lips Stories

Deprived of sight, deprived of sound, silk binds you to a leather bench, you know you're in the dungeon by the damp and musky stench With anxiety building in you fast, you love this kind of play, sensory deprivation is the order of the day You're startled by the first touch, it's ice upon your lips, you make a arch with your back as down your body the ice cube slips You now smell the strawberry even before it touches you,...