Wanda was already at work when I arrived back home about mid-morning, and I didn't even bother to drop off my suitcases but instead just grabbed my fishing stuff from the garage.Once back in Lovett and getting ready for a day on the Marsh-King's pier, I was able to chat quite a bit with Curriea, who was spending the day close to home sorting out big tubs full of floating water lilies for a large delivery that she was going to make the next morning. She was dressed as usually only in her tiny red thong and seemed utterly indifferent to the effect that her considerable charms had upon the tightness of my fishing shorts. I did catch her smiling a time or two, and I let her have her petty revenge for my copping a very good feel of her breasts while rescuing her the previous week, and I also let her just possibly win a verbal debate round or two during some of the day's pleasant debates.She asked me about my wife, and if she fished at all. "No", I told her sadly. Wanda did not fish or do. The tongue slightly flicks the metal ring; the chain tightens and releases, causing the other nipple to throb. These intense waves, are they of pain or of pleasure? Both, it seems, although any roughness now would make the experience unbearable.Her lips travel to the other nipple, this time a tiny bite causing me to gasp; then I feel a tongue tracing the skin of my breasts."I shall kiss where you are marked from the crop strokes, tigger, so you shall know where they are, even though you cannot see them. The marks will fade soon, but perhaps the memories of these kisses will not?"I find my belly tightening with arousal, the pressure of the tongue making me long to be able to touch in return.Skilled hands now caress my body, first my neck, tracing where the collar ends and my skin begins. My shoulders are touched lightly, then I feel the fingers travelling down my arms. Still suspended by the chains, I realise how exposed and vulnerable my skin remains.Suddenly, there are little bites.
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