They were strong hands, kneading my shoulders, then going down my back, warming me up. I felt strangely groggy, as if...I did not know whose hands wer... on my back. My eyes were covered by a silky blindfold. I was fully awake now, my mind racing as those hands moved languidly down my spine.My arms were stretched above my head, bound to the headboard. Pinned down on my stomach, I could not turn my head to see who was holding me down; I struggled a bit, but a solid weight on the small of my back. Follow the lights and you’ll find the port. Nothing else makes as much sense. Be that as it may, the feel of her feet in his hands overcomes his mind, though not his eyes. Like an airport beacon, his eyes are fixed on the prize, but he’s occupied with the landing gear, so to speak. He’s never had so much feet to play with. She IS big, wonderfully big. A little scrawny, but a lot of scrawny goes a long way. His hands are consumed with the angles and textures; here the instep, there the arch, now. More

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