Wicked Words: Sex...At the Sports Club by Kerri Sharp

Wicked Words: Sex...At the Sports Club by Kerri Sharp

Author:Kerri Sharp
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780753533499
Publisher: Ebury Publishing


Gift Horse Mathilde Madden

You give yourself away, you know. You ask too many questions. How much do I love you? How much can I take? How far would I go?

Well, you know, they’re all really the same question. And if you really want to know, let me tell you – it’s scary how far you will go – how much you can take when you love someone as much as I love you. Really, really scary.

And if you really want to know . . .

We’re in the bedroom of your tiny box of a flat. You’re lying on the bed wearing grey jogging bottoms and a grey T-shirt. And, even though I’m only feet away by the wardrobe, I can barely look at you because you just look so sexy.

While you’re relaxing in your supersoft lounge wear, I, on the other hand, am being granted no such comfort-based favours. I’m wearing a pair of very tight black lace knickers. In fact, the extreme tightness of this garment in particular is one of the reasons I don’t want to look at you too much and get too turned on. Lacy knickers are just not built for such things.

I’m also wearing a matching black camisole, black stockings and a black suspender belt, topped – or rather bottomed – off with a rather uncomfortable pair of black patent ankle boots. (What can I say? I like black. I think it’s elegant and, like most cross-dressers, I need all the elegance I can get.)

By the way, the not looking at you to avoid getting too turned on – so not working. Because I’m just getting off so much just on being dressed like this, despite the discomfort and how exposed I feel, that alone is making me ridiculously hard. I’m sure you’ve noticed.

Anyway, you seem rather pleased with my outfit so far. At least you’re smiling rather indulgently, which is always a good sign. I’m kind of expecting the usual next stage, which is for you to secure me to the bed using the cuffs I’m wearing on my wrists and ankles (which are, incidentally, also black), so you can take me with your strap-on, but you don’t do that today.

Instead you say, ‘Simon, I think you need something else on.’

And I’m a bit stuck there because so far in our relationship my cross-dressing has been limited to underwear. You don’t usually want me to wear much clothing. So, I don’t actually have anything else to put on – nothing that fits with what I’m wearing so far anyway.

But you’re way ahead of me, because you say, ‘Choose something of mine, from the wardrobe.’

And that’s how I come to be rifling through the very back of your wardrobe – which is startlingly big, considering the size of the rest of your flat. And that’s how I found it.

Right at the back of your wardrobe I feel a rather nice velvety texture, I spy a blackness of fabric, and – convinced I have struck gold – I pull a wonderful soft something from so far back in the depths it’s practically in Narnia.



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