"This is not funny. How the hell did I get myself into this?" she thinks. She whips her head around and almost passes out - from the dull ache of her arms, or the picture in front of her, she's not too sure which. Words fail her. His glorius six foot frame is naked; boy is he naked... how does he manage to stand upright?
"Oi! Focus!" she reminds herself. "Not on THAT!"
"Smile", he calls and points the digital camera at her. "Aw come on, surely you can crack one for the birdie?"
Birdie? That is an ostrich on steroids. Focus! But still, who would've thought?

He walks over to her and draws a finger from her elbow down to the strap of her top. She squirms and a flash of pain surges through her wrists."Hey that tickles! And hurts", she whines.
"Good hurt, or bad hurt?"
"What on earth could possibly be good about hurting?"
"Well, not hurt per se. More like ache." He walks around her; she can feel his breath in her neck. His hands hover millimeters from her skin - their charged and hot. He moves closer and she can feel his hard length pressed against her.

Three dates and here she was. What happened to her morals? When they shared their fantasies earlier that night - his of a StarWars/slave nymph, and hers a dangerous tied up encounter, this isn't quite what she imagined. By now his warm mouth and nimble fingers are exploring her body, and snaps her back to the moment. And there it is - the ache between her thighs.

She twists her body, and he gets the message - devils dancing in his clear green eyes. He stands before her, gently undoes her top, and she can't believe she's waited all of three dates.

He steps closer, kneels down and circles her bellybutton with his tongue. One sigh is all the encouragement he needs, to get up and pull her closer. Her arms sting - a minor distraction - as she draws him inside and succumb to the pleasure.