I want you... I want our longing not to be spoken but for us to use our body in our act of love. I want to bring you closer to me... bring you insi...de of me slowly. I want to forget about fast climax focused sex, but simply and purely to cover your body with mine. I want your hands to move over me, treasuring every detail, love on every imperfection while I learn your whole body in complete detail. I want you... I want to feel the physical proof of your arousal pressed intimately. This happened once or twice a week, and Marius was puzzled by his own reaction. He didn’t identify with the torturers, expressing rage at his situation, as one would expect. Instead he felt a warmth come over him at the idea of being tied and humiliated and tortured. Perhaps he was hoping to be killed? No. He had no wish to die, even though his days were unbearably tedious. But every time one of these scenes was presented he became more and more fascinated.“Marius, come here.” It was the. If you've read any of my other stories, then you know that I really enjoy being a super nasty slut and getting fucked and passed around by strangers. There's just something wonderful and a big big turn on to have some new strange guy put his hands all over me and lift up my skirt and finger my twat. I'm a slut and don't care, because I know that most guys are just horny cheating bastards that will fuck anything if it don't cause problems at home. And while men say they don't respect sluts, it. I had some part-time, mostly casual, and erratic jobs which in a good week permitted a few luxuries. But now I had two to consider; I never once considered pushing her out of the door.So, I left her there with instructions to take a long, warm bath, wash and dry her hair.Not much more than four hours later, I was back with a little money, fresh fruit, vegetables and staples like rolled oats for porridge, and milk. The girl was obviously half starved, so I was going to give her soup, hoping that.