His hands are always on me. His hands are so soft, making me let out light moans. I can feel his cock, rock hard for me, pressed against my slit. I ro...k back and forth over it, slicking him with the wetness that he has created. Moments like this, when we say hundreds of things to each other, without a single word spoken, speak volumes. The way he looks at me, saying I love you with that look, me saying it back with my own. A soft moan escaping my lips, I lift myself before sliding down his. They’re stuck somewhere around my knees since my legs are tied down, and leaves me with a bedpan shoved up under me. He just thinks of everything, doesn’t he? Son. Of. A. Bitch. ### Left alone with nothing to hold onto but my warm, fuzzy thoughts, this is a strange experience. I’m rather forced to admit that, beyond merely wanting to get up like I always have, given the opportunity I would. Almost as soon as the option was taken away, in fact, it’s pretty much the only thing I can think about.. More

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