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I'm lying, fairly spent, dizzy, empty headed and happy after another energetic, frenzied choking fetish session. The sheets are twisted and rumpled, around and between us. Our bodies hot and coated in a light sheen while we lay partially across each other, not sure where one ends and the other begins.
By the time I got to the bathroom I was standing in just my lace g-string and the rest of the clothes made an untidy pile in the doorway. Pulling my hair free. I shook my head and then eyed myself in the mirror. I looked tired. Running my hands over the classical cinch of my waist and enjoying the dramatic flare of my hips, I peeled off the string and dipped a toe into the comforting heat with a shiver of sudden corporeal need.