Being told to crawl to him on my hands and knees,once I undressed nude upon entering the hotel room. The crawling alone on the rough hotel carpet, the harsh touch on my knees, while anticipating the crawl to him, cowering between his legs, between his feet. The way to a dominants soul and is heart takes place in many areas, his feet, that is where it all begins. Undressing his feet as if they were as delicate as his dress shirt. Untying the shoes with my teeth, being careful not to drool over the tops of his shoes. Slowly sliding them off, then taking his socks off, my hands lightly caressing the top of his feet...then it begins, the kissing, sucking of every toe, the licking up the sides of his ankles. Running my hands up his legs, all while cleaning each and every toe, sucking on it like it was a sign of my oral gratification to come. The feel of his hand on the top of my head while I steady clean his feet after a long hard day, smelling the scent of overworked. And what of my hard. “Oh Don, I love you inside me. Just do not move. Allow me all the control. Will you?”He loves hearing my words and I know this too well because my muscles and all my nerves surrounding my vagina have a tune to dance to and a symphony to flood my brains with. Words wane to gasps, which grow into roars.Suddenly, I stop breathing and look around as to sniff something, or someone. Nothing and no one. Stop being so scared, says the mind to my inner self. Let go, Doris. Let it go! And this is what I do, roaring my lungs out, breaking the air, chasing silence away.“My adorable cougar bunny,” says the little man beneath me (yes, I can feel his retreat), “now that you had it, I really need to pee. May I?”Pivoting on my right knee, I give him space. As he walks toward the nearest sycamore, I press my buttocks right in the middle of the shirt. Ouch, it stings. One or more blades of grass have gone through the fabric. I do hate the bites on my wet and swollen labia. Let me stand then.“Doris,”.
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