A rock is placed atop the strands of leather. Held in place by a stone not much larger than my hand, pulling myself free would mean unbearable stress and pinching of my tongue.
Then my heart leaps as Heather disrobes.
“Been swimming here since I was a teenager,” she informs kicking off her boots.
As suspected, she is sans undergarments, the brief denim skirt falling to the dust, the more delicate blouse removed and carefully folded on top. My succubus presents herself naked.
It is apparent my neutering has changed the equation, the manner in which she chooses to interact with me. She notes my reaction, my gawking. The body which I licked from head to toe in the Arkansas hotel, looks as fine as it tastes. Heather is an amazingly well formed woman. Curves where curves are most desirous,
