Discommbobulated

I slowly slip off my two and a half inch heels from my aching pedicured feet. I love how my black soft suede strappy sandals gracefully hug me feet. First the right shoe, then the left. My feet ache but I take comfort in knowing that my arches can accommodate an individuals secret foot fetish naughty wants. I chuckle. My attire lays on my wooden floor and appears as exhausted as the one that wore them today. They are not too sexy, but not too boring. Just enough seductiveness that makes me feel secretly slutty throughout my work day, yet socially acceptable in the workforce. I slowly run my black matte colored fingernails across the softness of my fluffy white comforter. She said it would make me feel sexy and adventurous. I wondered if she ever felt the undertakings that I dream of? The sweet tortures, the loss of control that could send someone into pure climatic wonderfulness. I carefully unbutton my pants and slowly lower them to the floor. Trust me, I’m not intentionally providing myself an autonomous striptease. I’m drained and tired so I move slowly.  I look in the mirror and think to myself, “ not too bad.” As I sit on the edge of my firm yet comfortable bed, I pull off my soft satin colorful blouse over my head. For a moment I allow myself to revel in the relaxing sensations of my bed. As I let my body melt on the softness of my safeness, I begin to fantasize about my self inflicted forbidden desires. I imagine my sandals being replaced with soft leather cuffs attached to my lovers deviant yet sexually driven bars, a wall, headboard, or anything that pushes me to my limit. Allowing myself to be powerless. Willingly submitting. Giving up all control, yet still feeling safe. For just a moment I indulge in my personal forbidiness. Such sweetness! As I cum to my senses I open my eyes and I happily ambulate downstairs and pour a glass of Cabernet. I smile as I feel the wetness. It’s Friday.