The naughty woman who lives in my head...

She's terrible; she lives in my head and taunts me with the naughtiest of thoughts, putting images and ideas that make me blush or go slightly giddy when I least expect them. I try to remain modest and demure, but this seems to bring her out even more, making me thrust my boobs out or wiggle provocatively in front of people I shouldn't, just to see their reaction. Sometimes she makes me powerful and demanding. Other times, she delights in making me a willing receptacle - all girly, big false eye lashes and naughty heels that make me teeter precariously and giggle with big eyes. Oh, she knows what she's doing, leading me astray. I try to fight back, but she seems to have coaxed my nipples to stand up wantonly or make me blush furiously but still open my legs. We dated a couple, and (well, let's call her Marion) took great delight in ensuring that she caressed and kissed me gently at first, but then would rather shamelessly touch me below, and confront me with the evidence of my own desire, make me repeat back to her why I was wet. It was her way of erasing any pretences of modesty. She took a huge delight ensuring that I was there to pleasure her for some time, stopping occasionally to kiss and caress me, but essentially making it clear that my job was to ensure she got the pleasure she felt entitled too. If I was a good girl, and had pleasured her sufficiently, her husband would enter me from behind with increasing vigour and hardness, sending me into my own waves of pleasure. And so it would continue on a regular basis, dressed provocatively to excite them both, butterflies in my stomach. My feeble attempts to resist, all faint protests and heaving bosom, were ignored (as we all knew they would be) as she persistently touching me as she pleased. We all knew it was a script we stuck to until I could no longer resist, and instead started to adore. x

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