Slapped & Bitten

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On Sundays I’m in my used bookshop by myself. I come home later and am more likely to be tired. I wasn’t expecting any play.

We got pretty high: my recollections are a scattered collection of fragments.

At first as I sat on the couch watching her dance my attention was absorbed by how lovely her as looked in a new pair of bellbottom pants.

Occasionally she reached over and slapped me. Sometimes gently, other times with real force.

On and off she straddled me: slapping my face or sinking her teeth into it. Happy, I hoped I might be allowed to lick her boots.

As I said we were high. At 3:30 a.m. we awoke on the couch and went to bed.

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I’m glad to be exploring the grey area between what is considered normal and what is not. It’s something I frequently dreamed about and felt was natural for me.

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Please share your feelings about Slapped & Bitten. Please stick to the topic of the entry. Forthright disagreement is fine as long as it is civil.
My thanks,
Richard


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