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Shifting Limits, Seeking Balance
So when I showed my husband this week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt: …he laughed and said something like, “You put up that sign all the time…and then… you get drunk….” Somehow, at that point, the “off” becomes a bit blurry and starts to look more like “no”. Funny how that happens – a little liquid courage…or better yet, a little liquid freedom. So, that led me to consider: freedom from what, exactly? Where does my inner censor come from? Because quite honestly, even sober, sometimes a particular thing sounds good – and then at another time, it totally turns my stomach and freaks me out, making me question my own desires.…
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Under Surveillance
Misty gave her directive, “Call. Dave. Home,” and the car’s bluetooth obliged…”Calling Dave. Home.” “Yell-o…’sup, hon?” “Drivin’.” “And?” “Just stuck in traffic, bored outta my mind.” “Ahhh…lookin’ for some action, eh?” “Yep.” “I could probably swing somethin’.” “Oh, yeah?” “Yeah.” “Like what?” “Like…where are you?” “Near exit 277. But, we’re at a crawl…and I’m wearing a skirt.” “Good girl…makes things easy. Panties?” “Could lose them quick and easy.” “Do it.” He waited a moment as he heard her rustling around a bit. “Done.” “Lick your fingers. Really suck on them…leave ’em wet…” She did. “Now rub them around your clit until it swells…but don’t touch it directly. I want that…