Confession - Zaira

The room is dark.. warm and clammy, the light lingering breath of air from the small window washes over my body, teasing it rather than cooling it. Thoughts from earlier in the day dance though my head.

I recall how you spoke to a new boy who arrived.. and how quickly he left.. I recall how I watched you from the far side of the circle, how I admired to myself your outfit, your shoes.. how your stockings wrapped around your thighs, how it captured my mind.. my eyes.

Hands took the quilt and moved it back, leaving the bare sheets over the bed, cool in the warm air as I lay back on them, lifting my knees to my chest then I lay flat.

I remember how even though time is short, and I am mesmerized as I went to your feet, the light dress drifted over my thighs as I knelt there before you, my pulse seemed to race already, though I was not touched..

Hands moved over my breasts, skimming the edge of my bra, following a line of lace around my back.. unhooked. slipped from my shoulders the hands pull the straps along my arms quickly

I drift to how you informed me your shoes needed cleaned, how I instantly wanted to press my lips to them.. how I stopped to ask, in case that wasn't what you meant.. how I held my breath until you answered

Hands drift back up, backs of fingers move over my nipples, already firm and pinch them.. pressing clothes pins over each in turn. I take in a breath, the room is warm.

I focus on my relief as you said rather matter of factly of course clean them with my tongue, like the concept of cleaning shoes with anything else had never entered anyone's mind. It quickly was gone from my mind as forming the simplest of sentences became like walking though water, I must do this well, I must please you

Hands flick the ends of the clothes pins, pulling my attention back, I twist on the bed, pressing my heels onto the bar at the end, letting out a deep breath, I am aroused

I lean forward on the grass, visions of how my hair would fall over my shoulders return to me, of how I struggled to write .. to put the words together, to tell you how I would run my tongue along the leather, how I would cradle your foot, how I would love every minute.. how they ticked by.. so quickly

Hands pull down my belly.. slipping the pants from my hips.. down my thighs to the ground and I am pulled to sit, hands guide a thin rope around my chest, pulling it tight... I suck in a breath, holding it there.. and released it as the hands continue to wrap the rope over my shoulders, tucking it between my breasts.. it pulls on the clothes pins, .. I moan..

My thoughts drift back to how I felt when I reached your heel.. How it felt to wrap my lips around it, how your ankle .. your heel was held carefully.. how I longed to glance up along your legs, but I did not dare

Hands guide my thighs apart, holding my knees.. the tease of air over my skin, I moan. The sharpness as a small vibrator is pressed against my clit.. the hand holds it there.. saying nothing.. I try not to move

I recall once more how I rose, looking to you, flushed as my cheeks are now, delighted with the permission to clean your shoes.. how the thought of your single finger on my skin made me ache.

The buzzing, vibrating, pressed firm, unmoving.. I can do nothing but twist under and against the hand, the dull pinching on my nipples forgotten as the need grows, the longing ..

I can no longer recall things as my mind spins, though ropes and hands and shoes, though voices and looks and that burning need, that desire, that longing .. till it is released

I lay there, still.. it is warm, there is no air and the room is dark as the pain floods my nipples, I gasp and the hands remove them.

This, was a highlight in my week and the hands were mine.

This is my confession

by Zaira