It's late and you're leaking...

It's the hour when the devil creeps in, you're twitching at the thought of providing pleasure and I can almost smell the desperation on you. You want to feel good but more importantly you want Me to feel good. The urge is getting stronger, it's unbearable and your palms begin to sweat. You take a leap, you send a small tribute along with a message, there's a calmness in the air but I can read between the lines. There's a desire rising within you that you've felt a thousand times before but this is new, fresh and exhilarating. You eagerly await a reply, desperate to touch but you know better than to do that without permission. I see your tribute, your message but I don't reply just yet, I want you to sit with the feeling. Then comes the response, your eyes widen and your hand moves down - I've given you permission to stroke... You can barely contain yourself...

Oh, you wanted to read the rest? You'll have to get swept up and live the story to see how it really ends.