Every move she makes is graceful, fluid, and seeped with impossible sensuality. She squeezes me with every muscle inside her, and compels me to move t... her rhythm. I’m trapped in her cadence, and forced to be the subject of her elegant perversion. I can’t break out of it, and I don’t want to. She knows she’s beaten me, but she doesn’t smirk or gloat. She looks down on me with her warm, affectionate smile, and moans subtle pleasure through the pale outline of her parted lips. Her head tilts. One thing, one project, one crisis lead to another and I just couldn't get to my usual hair stylist in time. I called three days before school started and she was booked solid, right through the following week. So out of desperation, and with my eyes closed tight, I prayed that things would work out as I, with great hesitation, opened the heavy metal door of this new walk-in salon. I mean, I'm not looking for anything special, but I need to look presentable when I go back to school. The rush of. More

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