I received the following...I'm looking forward to more

I received the following email from a woman I'll just call El. I am so looking forward to receiving more!


He asked her to meet him for pizza in a dimly lit little resturant with greasy windows,murals of Napolian and red leathette booths. She slid in next to him wearing a full skirt and peasant blouse as he had instructed her.

He smiled hello. She took his had and broought it to her face, inhaling the tobacco smell and grazing his fingertips with her tongue. He ordered for them, gathering her skirt in his hand under the table as the waiter took his order. Anchovies yes. Are the mushrooms fresh? No, then. The skirt above her knee. Fresh mozzarella, si. Clams. Garlic. Onions...and a half carafe of dry red. As the waiter departed his hand slid under the skirt,confirming that she had complied with his instuctionsto wear no underwear. He smiled and withdrew his hand.She fluffed her skirt back to it's proper place feeling an unfailiar circulation of air around her exposed private parts. She slipped her foot out of her sandal and entwined her leg around his. She was starving, but not very hungry.

Was it perhaps Sally's or Peppe's...she wasn't paying attention to where she was or even the food. It had been eons since she felt the heat of a pizza oven. Hers was was stoked with possiblity. They had all night...She watched him eat, such an oral man he was! Watching his lusty munching inspired her nether orifice. He savored; she salivated. He chewed; her lips swelled. She inhaled deeply the smell of warm, salty, musky fresh clams. It had grown dark while they were eating. The cool night air carried a warmer moisture. It suggested an ocean nearby ( I guess it was New Haven) He led her to his car with gentle pressure on the small of her back. He lit a cigarette. With his free hand he traced her face in the darkness. She let him feel the broad smile on her face before she opened her mouth and welcomed his finger with her tongue. She inhaled deeply, brushing his forearm with her breasts as she pulled his finger deeper into her mouth. Her knees parted invitingly. He took another drag on his smoke and giggled.. "Not yet."


He parked on the street in a dodgyy part of a town she did not know. He turned and kissed her, pressing her head and torso against the seat of his classic beamer. His massive hands cupped her head. She slackened her neck and yielded completely to his kiss, Her breathing quickened and became audible.His hand probed beneath her skirt, assessing his impact. Apparently pleased with her level of arousal, he retreated to his side of the car, lit a cigarette and exited. She whimpered quietly as he retrieved a satchel from the trunk and came around to her door and opened it for her,whistling. They walked, weaving between patrons of seedy bars overflowing on to the street. They were older and better dressed than the revelers. She was not feeling safe and was about to tell him so when he stopped in front of an unlit shop and withdrew a set of keys from his pocket. He ushered her in without turning on the lights. He relocked and bolted the door. Barry opened his satchel and withdrew a length of black cotton with which he blindfolded her. She wished that she had been more attentive as they entered this place. It smelled smoky, slightly medicinal, and musty. The floor beneath her feet was wood, a tad uneven suggesting an old building. He turning on the lights. She heard the metallic switch and a fan overhead began to circulate the stale air. He removed her peasant blouse and left her standing beneath the fan wearing only a skirt. "Barry?" "Where did you go?" "Where are we?" "Shhhhh" Sound of running water. Sound of metal on glass. Rhythmic squeaking. Faint sound of music from nearby bars. Sound of Velcro?? Barry bustling in the far corner of the room. "What are you doing?"He replied with another "shhh", more demanding this time with no reassurance in his voice.

"Take off the skirt." He demanded matter of factly from across the room. She wiggled out of it and kicked it in the direction of his voice. She heard his footsteps approach her. He circled her, the only sound the creak of his shoes on the floor. She reached out for him, but he eluded her touch. He stroked her hair. She reached for his hand, but he clutched her wrist and secured to the other with velcro straps Her hands drawn tightly behind her back, she felt the need to remind him of her bad shoulder, but when she began to speak he inserted something into her mouth, something hard that kept her jaws parted, but disabled her speech. He lead her to the rear of shop, nearer, she surmised, to where he had been working. He seated her in a smooth leather chair and the noises of his business resumed without her questions.