His teeth connect with a nipple and clamp around the teat at Her insistence, while my nails claw at his back in delight. He bites a little harder, swa...ping to the other nub and She makes me beg for more, revelling in the boundary between pleasure and pain being crossed. I’m caged in my own body, a helpless spectator experiencing a fantastically intense ride. While She is shades of me, I momentarily don’t seem to know myself. The limits I impose on my body when I’m in control are gone, replaced. I'll never forget the shirts she used to wear, the stripes accentuating her petite bust. The flared pants that climbed her long legs up to her gorgeous behind. Straight brown hair hanging past her shoulders. I watched her from my vantage in the back row, among the other trumpet players. Of course in time my mooning was noticed, and the guys in the brass section (and for some reason it was only guys, just as almost all the woodwinds were girls) started ribbing me. I could deal with that, as long. More

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