Why I love my van  

Greathands54 64M
15 posts
3/17/2006 3:07 pm
Why I love my van

The restraints bit slightly into your skin. Crouched low, between the second row seats, your cheek resting on the fine leather upholstery, you hide from view behind the not-quite-tinted-enough windows...your head turns to meet the sounds outside the dark van…you’re waiting for me to return.

I won't be long, I said.

A blindfold hides the activity around your temporary prison, but you can hear voices and footsteps…closer and closer they come… what if they stop suddenly? What if somebody peers inside?

You try to hold your breath, not make a sound, but you can't hold it in any longer. Oh god, you shout to yourself, where is he, why did he do this to me?

You challenged my creativity my dear, teased me to step away from the familiar...and this is your reward.

The van is parked in a busy lot outside a local store. It’s dark, but the sweltering heat has people about, walking the streets looking for some relief, some entertainment, some distraction from their ordinary lives. I'm standing quietly outside, guarding your prison, watching them go by…and watching you writhe in panic...

Lovely exposed bosom bathed in blue light, shining through the open glass roof over your head.
Your breath is coming in rapid bursts. Your mind is racing, sweeping in and out of a panicked state of alarm, veering from an exhibitionist's thrill to a feeling of trapped inevitability. You like to expose yourself in public, on your own terms. This however, is not what you expected…

We met here a certain time ago, the length of which is lost in the swirl of your emotions since I exposed you… blouse ripped open, lovely breasts with hard nipples, your skirt up around your waist, panties now lying where you flung them, so confidently, on the back
seat… heart-shaped ass in the air like a pussycat in heat… swaying now in panic...waiting for me to return…

One wrist is manacled to a seat stanchion at the floor, the other buried in
your sopping pussy…you’re riding a knife edge of fear… Who will open the door?
Panic seeps in, you're fighting the impulse to hide behind the seats, knowing you’ll betray that bright-eyed swagger that got you here…waiting for me to return.

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