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A Session with Leather


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I feel as though you are in need of a leather session.

To feel the cool carress of leather drifting across your rounded cheeks.

The certainty of its form gliding between your thighs.

The hushed trust of the leather as it saddles against your vagina waiting to buck at the rhythms of your pleasure, your hesitancy, your breathing.  

The surge of ecstacy and thrill as it twitches and snaps to life leaving a moist heat in its rippling touch.

Toes curl.  Feet clench.  Whispy & begful pleas of easy fill the air.  Is she....easy?

Or
Is she hoping the leather will have mercy and treat her...easy?

Try, as you may, you can't foil, out manuever, or predict when the leather will summon a response.

Soon, you will give in and allow yourself to be owned and treated, by the leather.

You forfeit thinking, predicting, planning, and preparing for the inevitable.

 You give up your space so as to be taken and treated as the leather intends.

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