Story Sex Blog

Zipperhead’s is a famous store here in Philadelphia. The store is
on South Street, sell cools clothes and shoes, some handcuffs and leather
and stuff, and is a great place just to hang out and watch people in.
Well, I’m in there for a reason yesterday: Saltgirl, whom I am
meeting at a kinky sort of party this weekend, bought a bitchin outfit
she was telling me about, but couldn’t find the wide shiny belt she
needed to really complete the ensemble. No problem. I knew just the
place.
So I’m in there in the bondage-y section to your left as you walk
in and there’s this ultra-cool woman behind the counter, who has
piercings in places well, that you wouldn’t even find in a second-hand
_Gray’s_(which, incidentally, you could buy, just up the street, in
Philly’s largest used bookstore. Read the rest of this entry »

Belt-test at the dojo, you as tester. You come home around ten,
flushed, sore, and exhausted. You sag into a soft chair, your equipment
bag still dangling from your fingers. I remove it from your hand and ask,
“How was it?”

“They were all very big and very good,” you mutter under your
breath, “and seemingly tireless.”

“Hungry?”

You shake your head. “A glass of water would be great, though.”
You gingerly untie your shoelaces and remove your shoes and socks. I go
into the kitchen and return with the water. “From the tap,” I say. “Not
too cold; don’t want your stomach to cramp, dearest.” Read the rest of this entry »