She heard some rummaging around and another door slam, before the door was opened and he grinned widely, gesturing her inside.“Were you cleaning up ...or me?” she teased.“I wasn’t expecting company, so it was a bit messy,” he replied.The room was a good size with a rumpled, double bed tucked in the corner to her left. A desk was directly in front of her and a dresser was off to her right next to another door. She figured that that must be his closet. A row of shelves housed a few books, but the. By the end of the eighth story, she was masturbating openly while reading, imagining being tied up and toyed with, like the character in the story.He was an excellent writer. He described things so well, especially the woman's fears and doubts. In the stories, his men were reassuring and firm, loving and demanding. Elaine liked every word that came from his talented pen, but she liked the men he described the best. They were at times tender and forgiving, and at others so hard and unyielding.. More

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