Andy would be strapped into the chair, and she would play the part of his top/mistress/tormenter. Oh yes, she looked hot. I wore a short sleeved shir... and slacks, with loafers. I could do that, I wasn’t a model. I packed my photo lights and camera equipment and drove over there. It wasn’t far. Kat wore a long coat for the trip over to Andy’s house, despite the warm weather. Andy had a corner house in a canyon. The house was at the top of a stairway that leads past the detached garage located. With the strength of the almost visceral chorus of Carmina Burana he lifted her in his arms, bedded her on the satin sheets, covered her body with his. He wanted her to feel the side of his body against her skin, feel the harder planes, the rougher texture as a counterpoint to her own sweetness. Her breasts were full and heavy against his hands. His fingers and mouth playing an intricate duet over them, the calluses of his fingers catching on the satin of her skin before the heat of his mouth. More

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